#this isn’t specific it happens to every single thing. Stop that! Stop calling the writers bad! You do it you’re so smart

[fisherrprince]

some of you don’t know what “bad writing” is you just take the thing you like that sometimes makes weird or silly decisions with its plot and call it bad to save face so you won’t be embarrassed when someone notices

[yakkety-yak-art]

Saw the ghost movie that I was really excited about. Was disappointing. Ultimately it was just really…okay or downright bad in the parts that weren’t concert footage. More specific comments below the cut because spoilers, I guess, but there’s really nothing that happens in this movie that matters enough to count as a spoiler.

First, if this had just been concert footage, it would have been much more enjoyable. The movie parts were not at all interesting and each cutaway made it drag on and on. I hadn’t slept well the night before the showing, so the movie itself wasn’t the reason I was dozing off at some parts…but it also wasn’t helping keep me AWAKE outside of the concert footage. No complaints about that footage (mostly, but I’ll get back to it later).

Story: whoops, Tobias Forge can’t write! Sorry, that’s a bit mean, but…I paid money to watch this, so I’ll be a little bit mean. Seriously, this thing needed at least a couple more passes with the script. Every. single. conversation. as repeating what was already brought up in the OPENING voiceover: Cardi doesn’t wanna die, doesn’t wanna stop fronting for Ghost, but everything ends eventually. Yes, we GET IT. We do not need several scenes of Cardi with his parents saying it over and over again with no additional information added to understand that. After the opening VO, we could’ve just had one scene of Cardi looking a bit forlornly at himself in the mirror, and then Sister Imperator happily telling him that “things are going to be changing in the clergy soon!” or something like that and he looks unhappy.

That’s what I thought we were getting at first, but then it just. Kept happening??? Like oh my god Tobias, I get it, Cardi doesn’t want this to end, I KNOW. The quality of the writing suggests that Tobias is one of three things: incompetent at writing anything longer than a short (maybe, but the other two are a bit more likely), had no real story to tell and this could’ve been one of the shorts so he had to pad it out to an insufferable length (definitely), or so full of himself that he thought “eh, I don’t actually have anything to say, but this way I’ll get to be on screen the whole time and the only writer credited,” (probable). It’s just so offensive considering I know there were so many resources available to make this GOOD: more time, writing assistance or hiring a real writer, etc. and yet they were not taken advantage of. If this was something just put up on YouTube I really couldn't care less about the quality, but if you're charging money for this AND are as big as Ghost is, you can't expect to slide by with mediocrity. Except he will, because apparently everyone else loved this thing. Okay. Also, the humor overall just fell super flat. There were several moments where I was like, "wait, was that a joke? was I meant to laugh there?" because they were just nothing. Also, there was a fart joke. Okay.

Acting: sorry, I’m going to be mean again. The acting in the movie parts was very. Hit or miss is what I’m gonna call it. The voice acting in the voiceovers at the beginning and the end were oddly rushed in several places? They weren’t placing words in very natural ways and it just felt like they needed to do another take for some of the lines. It’s especially noticeable in the beginning voiceover because in most of it he’s speaking at a slower pace and it’s perfect and sounds great, but then he just…speeds up sometimes? And it doesn’t feel intentional and isn’t in places that make it feel like it makes sense to speed up for dramatic effect. In Sister Imp’s voiceover at the end, she is also just speeding through it and it’s incredibly awkward, because in a lot of places it’s noticeably faster than she’s speaking in her other scenes. Like, guys, you know you can shoot more footage right??? You can put some b roll in??? You don’t have to squeeze the whole speech into the shorter shot you have if it’s going to compromise the actor’s delivery.

Tobias' acting was passable for the whole thing, though that might be partially because he's not acting with his face as much as the others, so it's less noticeable when something isn't quite working. Sister Imp did a fine job for the most part, excluding her VO and some awkwardness (and no, not intentional awkwardness) in a couple scenes with Papa Nihil. Papa was also fine; nothing to write home about but nothing terrible stood out to me. Most of the issues probably came from the special effects on him to make him ghostly, which I'm presuming involved him being on a green screen or something (I have no clue. Idk anything about making effects lmao.) I'm NOT going to really review the acting of the stagehands because that's not their main job and they already had a lot of work to do, but it wasn't so bad as to take anything away from the scenes they're in. Basically, the acting overall was okay, but not great, and it adds to how much the scenes drag on for sure.

Tiny section about the animated Mary On A Cross segment: I'm not gonna comment on the bad animation, because it's on purpose and emulating old Hanna-Barbera cartoons. My issue is that it makes zero sense and goes nowhere. Nihil chases Sister Imp around for a while looking forlorn and sad and desperate, and she runs away/beats him up while looking pissed off until they come across a graveyard and she pulls him into a kiss. Then it cuts to Nihil naked in a hotel room in the morning while she storms off angrily....okay? And? What changed her mind? Why is she still angry in the morning? Why does this matter at all? Knowing that Papa IV was the product of a one night stand is a footnote if this is all we get from it. Just weird, and didn't fit the song IMO.

Editing: super frantic and distracting in places, particularly the fast cuts in the concert footage. It's just a lot and can be disorienting. Nothing is really allowed to sit on screen for very long (which is related to another point...) but at the same time, some of the movie shots just linger for no reason. They're just awkward and clunky and repetitive. Some people disliked the crowd shots, but I thought they were fun and cute and used sparingly enough. Shout out to the dude in the nun costume!

Weird lack of concert footage: what they chose to keep and what to cut was just confusing. Most of the footage was just Tobias singing, short shots of the Ghouls rocking out, and crowd footage. Almost none of the Ghoul antics that they're known for, unless Tobias was also in shot and involved. Whenever he went backstage and a Ghoul took the spotlight (I'm sorry, I can never remember who is who, but it was usually White Guitar Ghoul if I recall correctly), it cut to a story moment which, again, were boring, repetitive, and told us nothing. It just felt disrespectful to cut out so much of the Ghouls and their performances, especially because the crowd and the fans love them a lot. They add so much to Ghost's live shows and, in my opinion, are more important to Ghost than Tobias. I don't care if that's a "controversial" Ghost opinion to have, but it really is true. I think anyone could be any of the Papas. But the Ghouls, even when they get changed out, are always so talented, so energetic, so passionate, and make Ghost what it is in a live setting. They were also missing from all but one movie scene, where one of them asks if they're doing an encore, and for a second I thought the line had been spoken by one of the stagehands. That's it.

(Okay, there's also there in the scene where Sister Imp dies, but they're just standing there.)

I can't speak for if the Ghouls themselves felt a bit sidelined or disrespected by this. I can't say for certain if they even wanted a bigger presence outside of the concert footage. But I can definitely say that, from a fan perspective, the lack of the Ghouls compared to how OFTEN Tobias is on screen, backstage, doing NOTHING when we could be watching the Ghouls was GLARINGLY obvious. It felt weird and it felt uneven. I started getting really irritated by about the third time it cut backstage when I could be watching the Ghouls! It just led to the whole thing feeling super vain and self-important considering Tobias wrote the film to be this way. Some people have defended this by saying, "well, they're the Nameless Ghouls!" but that's bullshit. They're part of Ghost canon too, so why don't we get anything from them? We can't even see a little bit about how they might be feeling regarding a Clergy mix up? Whether they care about the current Papa, or anything like that? Involving them would feel so much more interesting than just another Papa, but this one wants to KEEP singing!! Again, maybe the Ghouls didn't want to be more involved...but it felt off.

I've never seen Ghost live, so I had no frame of reference for how much was cut from the concert footage aside from the lack of Ghoul antics, which is what they're known for, but apparently several people who were at the concerts filmed for this noticed a ton of footage that was cut (again, mostly Ghouls) that they thought would have been more fun to see compared to so many backstage shots. And yet we got the sequence of him in a boxing outfit, walking through the crowd, which ended with...nothing? He just...does that? Waste of time. (AND YES, I KNOW that it is a reference. That doesn't make it good. It didn't need to be there. Replace it with something relevant.) It just exemplifies how much time is wasted in this movie.

Special effects: oh my god did anyone even look at this movie before sending it out Jesus Christ. The special effects are so bad I was genuinely shocked. When Papa IV and Papa Nihil are talking while IV is in a box (for some reason?? I actually don't know why) Nihil is weirdly sized and not lined up properly. It was odd. The greenscreen was so godawful I was honestly amazed. It's YouTuber comedy sketch levels of greenscreen quality. What the fuck? Especially compared to the amazing performance and how much work is put into their live shows, the horrid effects stood out starkly. Another comment on Nihil: his face is hard to see in some scenes. His ghostly effects make his features kind of blur together sometimes, and sometimes it doesn't, so it clearly wasn't intentional. Just another odd thing. The effect of him getting sucked into his body for his sax performance was very, very bad. I know you had the option to put more time and/or money into the effects, Tobias. Why did you not. What is your problem. Why the fuck would you put out a product of this quality for money and act like it's okay, especially considering the fact that this was marketed as a lore-heavy MOVIE and not just a concert film? If this was a smaller production I would not rag on the effects, but I know for a fact that Tobias has the resources for this to be better, and he chose to not use them. Honestly, it feels disrespectful.

That's the crux of my issues with this movie, really. It was teased as a real movie with real lore and serious effects on the canon of Ghost, and it was none of those things. The lore amounted to Sister Imp dying, which means nothing, because ghosts, and Cardi becoming Frater Imperator at the very end and then the movie ending. It's NOTHING. There's also an end credit scene apparently, which I did not stay to view, because I didn't care and I had been sitting for long enough. Basically, there are ghosts (including Sister Imp, obvi) and then another cliffhanger about meeting the new Papa, and an implication that Cardi has a twin who might be the new Papa. People are freaking out about this possibility. I have no idea why. It really doesn't seem like a big deal at this point when all the Papas have a crazy family situation. A secret twin doesn't even feel like a twist, and it's certainly not enough to count as an addition to the lore when it hasn't even been confirmed. At the risk of sounding rude, fellow Ghost fans, raise your standards. You deserve better.

And that's the crux of my issues with this whole thing. It's mediocre, it's boring, it's absolutely nothing outside of some fun concert footage, and yet it was billed as a must-see film and cost real, actual money to view. If they had been honest about it being a concert movie, I'd have been fine with that! I think they're fun, especially for those of us who can't go to live shows. But we were told it would be more than that, and it wasn't. It feels disrespectful, like Tobias knew he could just put out some slop and people would be okay with it, and it feels even worse because in a way, he was right. Tons of Ghost fans loved this movie, but the more positive reviews I see, the clearer it becomes that they just loved the chance to see the concerts, and love Ghost. Loving Ghost didn't make me love this movie. It just made me disappointed and sad. We could have gotten a great film, but we got something that was low effort because it's obvious that you can take advantage of the fans of something by throwing them crumbs and dressing it up to seem nicer than it is.

I appreciate that individual people on this production put tons of effort into this; the crew, the actors (excluding Tobias) who were clearly doing their best with what they had, and yes, I'm sure even the effects people did what they could with what they had. But all of the parts that were clearly Tobias' call were not high enough quality to be in a movie.

[dreamingkelz]

I’ll admit, I’m a little nervous writing this, but I’ve been thinking in circles a lot lately, and I thought writing my thoughts down would be helpful and maybe alleviate some anxiety? This isn’t really criticism about anything, so much as observations and analysis and just a general attempt to understand some of the weirder things I’ve experienced being in this fandom.

With that said, let’s get started.

I’ve talked in the past about how protective I feel when it comes to the eggs. I don’t like people threatening to kill them. I don’t like when the story puts them in danger. I don’t like how neglect deaths are still a risk. And after a few close calls over the past few days, egg welfare is in the front of my mind again, and I’ve found myself questioning why I feel this way. It’s strange, isn’t it? As many people have said, they’re just a bunch of pixels in a video game, aren’t they?

First and foremost, I want to preface this by saying I’m a writer, and more specifically, I’m a writer who loves angst. I’ve always drifted towards tragic narratives. I want to see the characters I’m invested in get tested. I want to see them cope with trauma and loss. I love when a story can make me cry. I’m not necessarily a fan of child death as a narrative device, but of all of the stories I’ve written, my favorite does see the main character watching four of his five children die in increasingly horrific ways over the course of fifty chapters, so it’s definitely not a dealbreaker for me. If the QSMP was an ordinary story, I think I would love the tension and the horror of the situation. As is, there have been some interesting character developments to come out of the constant threat of death, or the trauma caused by past deaths on the server.

So then why? Why does the thought of egg deaths still fill me with a nauseating sense of dread?

To start with, the QSMP is not an ordinary story. I don’t think any story told through this particular style of Minecraft roleplay is or can be. This is real-time player-driven roleplaying, and I think there are three medium-defining factors at play here. One: every player (usually) streams their perspective. Two: characters appear and disappear from the story based on the players’ streaming schedules. And three: while they are online, we will experience every single thing that happens to the players.

Combined, we end up with a narrative that simultaneously has characters that are better-developed than can be found in any other medium, while also somehow being worse. Any character is likely to have a vivid, colorful personality, deeply engaging relationships with the people around them, a rich inner life, and their own unique perspective on any events that occur on the server. But that same character might inexplicably be absent from a plot beat that they are heavily invested in, solely because the streamer isn’t available for that particular stream. Plotlines get dropped for any number of reasons. Backstories are, more often than not, cobbled together from references to past servers that the player has taken part in. All-in-all, narrative and even character takes a backseat to the players - their identities, their schedules, their playstyles, their comfort.

It is also worth repeating that everything that happens on the server is unfolding in real time. The narrative doesn’t cut away when the story stops, at least not for most of the players. There are a handful who might log in with a single focus for the day, stream for one or two hours, then log off again. But many more are there nearly every day for several hours at a time, and a lot of that time will be dedicated to non-story events - building, doing dungeons, making machines, or just hanging out with the other players. While any player on any stream can be prone to breaking character to talk about events from their offline lives, these long, lore-light streams are especially prone to it. And there are some players who specifically try to avoid participating in lore altogether. At the end of the day, they are streamers first, and actors in a story second.

The result of all of these factors is a server with an incredibly thin line between fiction and reality. There is a distinction between the player and the character they play, yes, but in any given stream the difference between the two can become murky.

But how does this tie to the eggs?

In the beginning, it wasn’t necessarily so bad. The eggs were just cute little blobs that followed their respective players around and needed to be taken care of. There was even a lot of confusion in the earliest days as to whether or not they were controlled by AI. If that was all they had stayed, perhaps we wouldn’t have gotten so attached? The problem came when they started talking.

Suddenly, the eggs were able to communicate things they liked and projects they wanted to work on. They were able to tell jokes, and express complicated emotions, and let the personalities they’d already started fostering shine. They started carving out niches in the community of the server - people ask Dapper for help with engineering projects and mod-related information; Richarlyson’s art is plastered over every other business and he even does concept art for builds; the eggs form relationships outside of their assigned player, with eggs and players alike. Some of them even have their own ongoing storylines. Parents are careful to make sure that every egg is taken care of every week, and everybody freaks out if they see an egg go down in chat.

Yes, the eggs are cute. They’re small and meant to evoke human children. The players are explicitly told to protect them, to raise them, and keep them healthy and happy. Of course everybody would become attached. But isn’t it strange to get this attached?

If cute child characters were all they were, I would think so. But that isn’t the case. In practice, the eggs are effectively players themselves.

Players that only exist in the context of the server.

Players that the server is actively trying to kill.

And I think that is the problem. The eggs are characters in a story, but the story has such a murky line between fiction and reality, that they wind up feeling real. After all, they follow the same rules as the other “characters” when it comes to portraying a character. This isn’t like a Cucurucho or a Walter Bob who come online once in a while to hang out, but clearly have an off-screen role to play in the story as well. The eggs may not stream their perspectives, but they spend nearly one hundred percent of their time interacting with players, and if they’re not with a player, they’re assumed to be sleeping. Furthermore, depending on whose perspective you watch, you’re going to spend a minimum of three days a week watching egg content, and when they log on, they tend to stay for hours. If you were watching in the beginning, they were online every day. That is a LOT of time to “get to know” these characters who so convincingly mimic the players.

Effectively (and unintentionally), the QSMP has tricked the audience into forming parasocial relationships with a handful of fictional characters.

I have never cried over the death of a fictional character, or even had a particularly strong reaction. When a character is in danger, usually my reaction is excitement over the narrative possibilities the situation could create. I love tragedy in fiction. I love horror. I love drama. And on the server itself, this is how I’ve consistently felt about inter-player conflicts. My engagement is at its highest when there is some kind of narrative tension between the player characters (and the fandom reactions to this kind of thing deserve their own essay).

But when Dapper lost his first life, I was so viscerally upset that I nearly dropped the series to protect my mental health. I have pointedly refused to watch any stream where an egg dies if I know it’s coming, and I tend to avoid streams dealing with the aftermath of their deaths as well.

Because no matter how much logic you throw at the situation, it still feels real. If a player character perma-dies, or is banned, or just chooses to leave, they may no longer have a presence in the server, but it’s still clear to the audience that only the character is dead. The player exists outside of the server, and for the parasocially invested, it’s usually still easy to keep up with them if one wants to. The eggs broadly do not have that luxury. Once they’re dead in the story, they cease to exist altogether, and in an environment where the fiction/reality line is already so blurred, that is going to have a strong impact on the audience. No amount of hearing “they’re pixels in a video game” is going to mitigate that.

I think the best case scenario is that they grant the eggs the same immortality as the players, whether it be through hatching or some other means, and allow them to come and go as suits them. The eggs have fulfilled their initial purpose, and the server would really benefit from removing this hurdle that disincentivizes chaos and recklessness and incentivizes harassment from a highly-stressed audience. Multiple players have already said they have no intention of returning because they don’t want to deal with the fallout that will come from potentially hurting an egg. But all of these eggs have carved out a real place in the server, and it would be a shame to lose that.

The eggs are important to the QSMP and a major draw for a lot of people. And I don’t think that needs to change. But I do think that there are ways to use the eggs for narrative drama without having to force your audience into subconsciously believing that their favorite streamer has died. The QSMP, and servers like it, provide a unique storytelling medium with its own advantages and challenges. And as with any medium, it’s important to be aware of what these challenges are in order to tell the best story possible.

[aoceanofstars]

Tips to keep yourself writing

1.  Set a specific amount you will write every day.  I call this the Terry Pratchett method.  Set a goal you know you can do.  This isn’t to stretch you, this is to get you into a routine.  Pick something you can do every single day without burning yourself out.  Sir Terry wrote 400 words every day.  Pick something that’s easy for you.  You can always go over that amount but you want an amount you know you can reliably hit over and over again.  The trick isn’t the amount, its the Every. Day. part.  Every day, at some point in the day, sit yourself down and write your amount.  Every.  Day. 

2.  Don’t beat yourself up if you have to skip a day.  Life happens.  Sometimes - life happens a lot.  I skipped an entire week around Fizz dying.  Beating yourself up for missing a day, or days, will actually make you feel less like getting back into writing.  You’re human, let yourself be human.  That said, you’re writing the set amount so that it will become a habit for you.  Get back in the saddle once you can.  Don’t skip for reasons that you know don’t merit skipping.  Don’t give yourself ‘skip days’.  Write.  Write every day.  Force yourself to push out your small amount of words even if it means you spend more time wandering around and playing on the internet than writing.  Don’t stop until you’ve written your allotment for the day.  Every.  Day.

3. Pavlov Dog yourself.  I like to play soundtracks in the background while I write.  I have no variety and usually play the exact same soundtrack over and over.  It’s gotten to the point that, if I can’t seem to focus on writing, I can put on the soundtrack and suddenly its easier to get writing.  Find something routine that you can do that will help trigger you into Writing Mode.  A specific cup of tea, a scented candle, a background noise, a time of day, a ‘I’m preparing to write’ routine, whatever.  Find something that helps you set the mood and do it repetitively, even on days you think you don’t need to.  Because there will come days when you DO need to and that’s when you’ll be glad you’ve already clicker trained your brain to respond.

4.  Stop writing before you run out of ideas for where your story is going.  If you’re only writing shorts this doesn’t apply as much but if you’re going Long Haul with a story, stop writing before you get to the end of your idea.  For myself this works like - write a scene, know where the next scene is going or at least starting, stop writing before I hit the next scene.  This way I am not going to get hit with writer’s block the next time I sit down to write.  I already know where I’m starting from.  Its tempting to rush ahead and just write down everything you can think of in one sitting but you don’t want to lose your groove.  You’re writing every day.  Leave yourself something to write tomorrow.  If you’re worried you’re going to forget, make yourself some quick notes but the whole point of stopping before you hit An End is to let you keep your momentum when you pick up writing the next day.    You’re in this for the long haul, there’s no need to rush.

Obvious disclaimer that these are things that work for me.  They won’t necessarily work for everyone.  But if you’re having a hard time writing (and I did for over a decade) give these a try and see if they help. 

ps. feel free to add your own additions.  The more people have to chose from, the more likely they’ll find something that grooves with them.

[absolute-flaming-trash]

Ahhh, Ri!! Congrats on the milestone! Your writing is always *chef's kiss*. #1 yandere writer in my book 💚

May I request Gojo with prompts 2 and 9?

Yes you absolutely may! I changed up the wording a lil with one of the prompts to make it fit better, but it isn't that much different!

Holy christ I'm sorry this took so long

Warnings: Budding yandere behaviour, Threats, Stalking if you squint

Word Count: 699

“Come on, let’s go out together!”

Your face scrunched up as a result of the headache that had begun to pound in your temples, unbothered that your customer service persona had all but been thrown in the trash for the time being.

“You sure are persistent, aren’t you?”

The man, Gojo as you had begrudgingly come to learn, beamed before bowing to you in a gesture that one would assume was extremely polite, but to you it seemed almost mocking while he held his hand up towards you.

“As persistent as I need to be.”

You walked past him with your labeling gun in hand, scrolling through the numbers until you created the price tag that suited the new floral bouquets you had set out for the day. He was behind you when you began to place the stickers on the plastic sheeting around the flowers, but you could feel the wave of dejection that radiated from him all the same.

It was gone within moments.

“What's to say you and I go out for dinner tonight?”  He came back into your field of view to lean up against the display stand. He lifted up a corner of his blindfold, revealing a singular absolutely stunning blue eye to you.

If this was his next move in trying to gain your attention, he was failing miserably.

“I could pick you up from the shop and save myself some time in buying you roses.”

You looked back towards him, completely unamused at his attempt at humour. “Hilarious. Even if I did accept, I’m not available tonight.”

The regret in your specific sentence structure was felt the moment you saw Gojo’s face light up. You rolled your eyes when he did a little spin in victory, unsure of how much more of the childish antics you were sure you could put up with within the first 20 minutes of opening. 

 “So you’re willing to accept, wonderful!” His celebratory movements came to an abrupt stop and he looked towards you curiously. “What are you doing tonight?”

You let out an overexaggerated gasp and brought your free hand to your mouth. “Oh my god, did I not tell you every single detail of my personal life?”

“No.”

“Then it must be none of your business.”

You brushed past him, inputting a new price on your device while he let out a low chuckle that slowly grew in volume as he snapped his blindfold back into place.

“Well aren’t you adorable?”

“Look, can I help you with something like the first time you’re here, or are you going to keep harassing me until I’m forced to call the cops on you?”

The lines on his forehead crinkled, indicating the raising of his eyebrows at your very unsubtle threat.

“You could do that, however you wouldn’t like what would happen after.”

You scoffed, pricing some of the flower tags a little more aggressively than necessary. “I seriously doubt that.”

The price gun was plucked from your hands with an ease like taking candy from a baby. Any remaining composure you had left immediately left your system as Gojo held the device up in the air just out of your reach.

“What the hell, give that back-”

“I’d like things to go smoothly between us, I really would.” He mused, his previous air of lightheartedness completely replaced with one of stoic seriousness. “I’d hate for any intervention that isn’t necessary. They could be taken care of easily enough, but I don’t know how well that would go over for you.”

Your attempts to regain the gadget stopped the moment those words left his lips, unsure of exactly how to process his statement.

“Are… are you blackmailing me into going out with you by threatening to harm me and others?”

His laughter was such a sharp contrast to the atmosphere that had been built that you flinched backwards when he booped the tip of your nose with his intex finger.

“No silly, I never said I would hurt you.” He grinned again, but this time you felt trepidation rather than annoyance when he held his hand towards you.

“So I ask again, when should I come see you?”

[sohotthateveryonedied]

Okay I got a question for you, resident Batfam Expert! I’ve been reading a lot of fanfic recently (because I love pain) and I was wondering how many of the pet names the family calls each other are canon? Because they have A LOT and they’re all pretty consistent throughout the writings. Some of the ones I’ve noted regularly are Baby Bird, Little Wing, Jay, Jaylad, Jace, Timmers, Timbo, Dickie, Dickiebird, and then Bruce calling his kids ‘sweetheart’. (Adorable) Anyway, thanks! Don’t feel a need to rush in answering :) I’m in no hurry

Sorry it took me so long to get to all of these, I’ve spent the last few weeks scrounging up every single resource I could get my hands on so that I could make a comprehensive list of which nicknames are canon and which are fanon and it took a SUPER long time. The bottom line is I ended up accidentally making a whole-ass Google Slides for every single batkid nickname, and while the whole project isn’t anywhere near finished yet, I managed to complete the slides needed to answer all of these questions. So...yeah! Here’s what I found:

Dickie/Dickie-Bird:

Jason seems to be the main nickname-user of the family, so aside from the aforementioned comics, there isn’t very much content of Dick being called “Dickie” or “Dickie-Bird”. (I also want to bring up “Big Bird,” which I see Jason calling Dick sometimes in fanfics. That one’s not canon anywhere, unfortunately.) Dick used to be called “Dickie” sometimes as a term of endearment during his circus days, but after that it’s not likely you’ll see any of his family members calling him something other than Dick. 

Little Wing:

Sadly, “Little Wing” hasn’t been used in any canon content after this comic, which is a major bummer since the fandom has turned it into one of Jason’s most popular nicknames (from Dick at least).

Jay/Jace/Jaylad/Jaybird:

(I didn’t list the comic sources for the more widely used nicknames since they’re so common in comics that you could find them pretty much anywhere.) 

I’d say that Bruce called Jason “Jay” far more during his Robin days than he does now, though that could be attributed to their more distant relationship nowadays. (Or maybe I just didn’t happen to read the specific modern comics in which he called Jason “Jay” or “Jace/Jase”.)

Yeahhh, sorry about this one. “Jaylad” is kind of the Schrödinger's cat of nicknames. The fandom ended up misconstruing the term over time. and losing the comma between “Jay” and “lad” so it became “Jaylad” and everyone just stuck with it.

The main person who seems to use this one is Roy Harper, as I haven’t yet found a comic in which one of Jason’s family members calls him “Jaybird”. You can open pretty much any comic with both Jason and Roy in it and expect Roy to say it at least once.

Timmy/Timbers/Timbo:

I haven’t seen anyone calling Tim “Timmers” in canon, but otherwise, most of the other common nicknames derived from Timothy are canon.

Pretender/Replacement:

I always found it wild how Jason never once called Tim “Replacement” in a comic, and yet we all managed to latch onto it anyway and make it his go-to nickname for Tim? That takes some dedication, man. Otherwise, Jason called Tim “Pretender” a few times during Batman: Hush, and that was about it. 

Baby Bird/Baby Bat:

I know a lot of people hate the nickname “Babybird” (for whatever reason), but honestly, I’m really hoping that DC makes it a thing because dammit, we deserve this breadcrumb at least. As of right now, the only batkid who has ever been called “Babybird” was Damian, and it was by his mom. (In fanon, it’s typically Tim who is called “Babybird” while Dick is “Dickie-Bird” and Jason is “Little Wing”. Who decided this, I have no idea but I’m not complaining.) I also included “Baby Bat” since I see that one pretty often too, and that one is sadly not canon either. The DC writers really don’t want us getting our hands on any family fluff whatsoever, huh.

As for Bruce, I don’t think he’s ever called his kids a term of endearment more emotional than “son” or “pal” because he has the emotional capacity of a dried-up raisin. All of those nicknames like “sweetheart,” “honey,” “pumpkin,” and any other names a parent might call their child are banned from Batman’s dictionary as far as the writers are concerned. Will that make me stop having Bruce call his kids “sweetheart” in my fics every chance I get? Absolutely not.

[btscarnivalnet]

Headliner Of The Month

Hello, Carnival Goers and Performers alike, please give a round of applause for our Headliner of the Month:

Our Wonderful Performer: Sunny @sunshinerainbowsbts

You are our Headliner of the Month!

During this month, we want to showcase your incredible talent and skill and share it with the Carnival! For this month, we want you to pick three fics of yours that you’d like us to showcase, and we also wanted to ask you some questions so we can understand how you write, why and what you want to get across with your fics.

Questions For You:

Three Fics:

Paradise

Covert Affairs

I Wanna Hold Your Hand

When did you start writing fics, and why?

I started writing years ago, when I joined a server dedicated to a wild scifi show called Lexx. Prior to joining, I’d never even heard of fanfiction, but there was a group of authors there posting the most incredible stories, and soon I was hooked. Eventually I reached a point where I wanted to see my favorite characters in specific scenarios that those stories weren’t covering, and it dawned on me that if I wanted to see them, then I needed to write them.

That server is long gone now, and I did not have the foresight to save any of my fics, so they’re all digital dust now. Let that be a lesson to everyone - always backup your stories!

I fell away from writing fanfic for a while, but I kept reading for various fandoms like Harry Potter and the MCU. After a while, I started writing for the MCU when I felt the need to see my own ideas come to life. Then 2020 came and I found BTS and the amazing fanfic community on tumblr. And it happened once again - it wasn’t enough to read the fantastic worlds that Army authors were creating. I had to build my own.

What was your first fic?

Baby

What is your latest fic?

The Hook Up

Why did you choose to write about the fics you have chosen?

Paradise

Paradise is the first series I created. The idea sprang from watching Jungkook’s iconic “My Time” performance and thinking about his duality and wondering - what if your shy neighbor was a sexy stripper by night? It's a very simple idea, for sure, but one that has resulted in about 86,000 words written over eleven chapters published so far! Originally, I thought it would be a short five-part series, but I just fell in love with the characters and decided to slow things down and take my time telling their story. I chose this one because it’s my favorite story to write. Yes, it’s a very self-indulgent story, but isn’t that the whole point of fanfiction in the first place?

I remember being so incredibly nervous to post the teaser. It got some attention, but ironically that just made me even more anxious when the first chapter went up! You never know what kind of response you’re going to get with your stories. I have been so, so lucky that this fic has resonated with a group of readers who keep coming back chapter after chapter. We all know what it’s like to write something we love and feel heartbroken when it doesn’t find its audience.

The story feels like it’s starting to wind down now. I don’t want to stop writing it but I also don’t want to drag it out or have it overstay its welcome. But no matter how long it goes on, I’ll never stop being thankful for every single interaction it’s brought me.

Covert Affairs

This Jungkook Spy!AU was written for a request. It’s an example of when you get the perfect prompt and the words just start flowing - I wrote the whole thing very quickly. I tend to write very visually - I see the action in my head and do my best to transcribe onto the page. That worked really well for this story, which unfolded just like a movie in my imagination.

The reason I picked this story is because of its ending. My blog is kind of unofficially a “happy endings only” blog - the vast majority of my stories are meant to leave the reader in high spirits. The ending of Covert Affairs is very different from my other fics. I reached out to a few writer moots before I posted it, because I was afraid to use the final scene I’d written. But they told me to trust my instincts, and I’m so glad that I did, because I can’t imagine it ending any other way. And it has led me to question what a “happy ending” is, anyway. Does it always mean the hero wins, or that the reader gets the guy? Does it have to be “happily ever after” or can it just be finding peace in the moment?

I Wanna Hold Your Hand

This was one of the first fics I wrote working from a prompt as opposed to coming up with my own idea wholesale. As soon as I read the words “It’s hand-holding season,” I knew two things. One, it had to be a Yoongi fic, and two, it had to be soft. Super soft. Like, curling up on a bed made of marshmallows soft.

I’m largely a smut writer. I like smut. I enjoy reading it and I absolutely love writing it. But not every story necessarily needs a sex scene. I chose this story because I felt like it’s a good example of the type of fluff I like to write. Just a series of quiet moments of two idiots falling in love. I live for those moments. Also, I love how silly it is. I try to imbue a lot of humor into my writing.

What was the most memorable line for you in each of the fics?

Paradise

From chapter one, when reader sees Jungkook on stage for the first time:

Like the statue of a god come to life, marble made flesh and blood, Jeon Jungkook danced before you, more beautiful than any man you’d ever seen.

From chapter six, some banter between Jin and reader. I fucking love writing banter:

“What did I say about being patient?” he inquires, cocking an eyebrow.

“Patience is a virtue,” you remark.

“Yes, it is.” He rubs his thumbs over your wrists and the sensation sends a bolt of electricity to your core.

“I never claimed to be virtuous.”

From chapter nine, an example of me just cracking myself up. Happens frequently in my writing:

Besides, he’s so pretty, lost in his dreams next to you. Why not just lie here and gaze upon his beauty a little longer?

Gaze upon his beauty? Okay, Lord Byron, let’s dial it back a little. And maybe stop staring at him like a creeper.

Covert Affairs

This is one of the first lines I wrote when I saw the prompt and began picturing the little cat-and-mouse game between Spy!Reader and Spy!Jungkook:

His smile is all you can see as he disappears into the shadows, pulling you in. “Why would I let someone else have the pleasure of catching you?”

I Wanna Hold Your Hand

I cheated and chose a paragraph, because it’s hard for me to pick just one of these lines without the context of the others, and I think it shows the way the hand-holding between Yoongi and reader has come to mean so much more:

Snowflakes swirl around you on the trek home, but the air feels heavy with something else. Something unspoken. Everything around you is covered in a fluffy white blanket that shimmers slightly under the streetlights, and you could easily get lost on these streets just as easily as you get lost in your thoughts. But that familiar sensation at your side, Yoongi’s fingers clutching yours, reassures you. It’s a comforting weight, anchoring you in the moment.

What was your writing process like for each fic?

Chaotic as usual. I don’t typically outline my stories - the rare exceptions are my current series Paradise and Versus. For everything else, I normally just have a basic idea - what kicks the story off and how it will be resolved, and then the rest comes as I write it. My ideas come from everywhere - a line of dialogue or a lyric, a conversation with a friend, dreams I’ve had. Occasionally, if an idea seems like it’s going to be more than a quick one-shot, I will do a stream-of-consciousness type of outlining - basically I write a paragraph or two detailing what plot points the story will include.

Also, I have to have noise when I write, either listening to music or just having the tv on in the background. I can’t work in silence. Like I said, chaotic.

I didn’t start outlining Paradise until I was five chapters in. The story kept expanding, so I needed to corral all my thoughts and figure out the timing of the various events. And I write it one chapter at a time. I truly, truly envy authors who have the patience to write multiple chapters or a whole fic before they start posting! I have zero chill when it comes to posting. I want to write and get it out there immediately.

Covert Affairs and I Wanna Hold Your Hand were both written without an outline, over a series of sprints. I’m a big fan of sprinting - it’s helpful to turn off the critical/editing portions of your brain and just let the words roll off your fingertips. Sometimes I end up with a fairly useless mess, but more often than not, I’ll find the crux of a story that way. A lot of times my characters will surprise me with their antics during a sprint.

What do you hope readers will take away from the fics?

I hope they find whatever they are looking for in my stories. Whether it be something they want, like a spicy smut scene, or something they need, like a good laugh. Fanfiction has by and large been a source of comfort for me. It’s often a place I turn to when I need to escape from all the stress in my life. I’d love for my stories to do the same for others. I hope to write fics that will reverberate with people for a long time after reading. Nothing would make me happier than that.

Why do you keep writing? What drives you?

I keep writing because I love it. I have so many worlds within me, all clamoring to be born. What drives me is the desire to share those ideas with others. To say here, I made this for you. I hope you enjoy it. Thank you for reading.

Any writing goals you’ve recently hit? Any goals that you are planning to hit?

I haven’t really had many goals in the past but I’ve had some milestones that I’ve celebrated. I’ve been writing for BTS for over a year now - that was a great marker to hit. My current goal is to wrap up my three series - the two I mentioned above and my Bad Cop!Yoongi series - in a (hopefully) satisfactory manner before I attempt any other series. Future goals include exploring new genres/tropes/kinks in my writing, and then possibly branching out into Stray Kids fanfic - but that’s a ways down the line yet, since I still have so many BTS WIPs in the works!

[bigskydreaming]

I forget if I already posted this last week because its been plaguing me for at least that long but I don’t think I did so here we go:

Does anybody remember a short-lived ABC show from like, fifteen years ago called October Road? It was about a pretentious writer played by one of the minor character actors from One Tree Hill (Bryan Greenberg) who returned to his little town and ex-girlfriend (played by That 70s Show’s Laura Prepon) after writing a pretentious novel that trashed everyone he grew up with, and like, that was it, that was the show, stunning that it managed to get two seasons but I digress....

Anyway, the thing that’s been bugging me for fifteen years, every time this random show pops into my head....

Is it had this thing it did. Where every single character had a habit of regularly saying “what goes on” instead of the more expected “what’s up” or “what’s going on.”

Like, this was a THING with the show. The characters - multiple times an episode, like this shit was DELIBERATE, it was CALCULATED, there was INTENT here (just...a completely inexplicable one) - would say things like “what goes on, Hannah” instead of just...“hey, what’s up.”

AND I HAVE NO IDEA WHY.

It was the most random thing ever. For a decade and a half I have regularly had this show pop into my head and drive me into a teeth gnashing frenzy as I try and determine what was that even about? Like, the show treated it almost as a regional thing specific to this part of the country except this town was like....just a random little town in upstate New York and am I missing something and this is a phrasing that people in various regions of the US do actually use habitually, because I stg I have been a lot of places in the US and I have never in my life encountered a region where people regularly say “hey, what goes on”....

Or was it like, some random writer quirk, in which case its extra weird, because like, there was so much clear deliberation in making multiple characters use this particular phrasing multiple times an episode, in like LITERALLY every episode....and its like if this isn’t a thing that the writers are doing because they’re setting it in a particular region or this is just the phrasing they grew up saying, but rather was an affectation that they picked and tried to make a regular, innocuous thing then its like STOP TRYING TO MAKE FETCH HAPPEN, but just.

Idk man. It was the most random thing ever, and I saw recently that it was added to hulu I guess, because internet ads for hulu have had it as one of the sample thumbnails of shows offered on that platform so this quirk of it returned to mine mind with a veritable vengeance, after its been ages since I last thought of this random-ass show....

But the second I was reminded of it, its like no time had passed at all and its fifteen years ago and I’m sitting there watching this show being like WHO TALKS LIKE THAT, WHY IS THIS A THING, I GENUINELY WANT TO KNOW.

[izzyliker]

i swear like 85% of the meta i see on here would actually have disastrous implications for the overall text and the writer of the meta clearly never stopped to consider that meta of a single character or a single scene doesn’t exist in isolation but fundamentally affects how the entire work reads. like you can’t say “that scene where the navy releases ed to izzy is supposed to read as izzy buying ed” without it fundamentally adding like. profound racial trauma to ed’s story arc in a way that is completely tonally discordant with the rest of the portrayals of racist violence (in that in every single other case of racial violence the violence is immediately responded to and the perpetrators punished), without it meaning that white writers wrote an episode where that kind of intensely traumatic and dehumanizing act happens, without it meaning that ed has been for the entire show and precanon for however long izzy has been working for him been constantly exposed to racism way beyond the scope of “clueless white person that isn’t working on it” (unless you think “literally treats moc like a commodity” is just a normal non-malicious passively racist thing to do) and how that affects his character and his relationship with izzy and how him choosing to keep izzy around affects how he’s characterized, without it meaning that the statements about not wanting to turn racial or homophobic violence and trauma into a significant overarching part of the story despite being present in the world are either a lie or a massive oversight where the writers and actors including the actors of color who have praised the writers for listening to their opinions and ideas somehow didn’t realize the implications… like there’s analyzing media at face value and drawing connections to real life or the implications one can find where reading scenes at face value is helpful in finding larger social patterns, and then there’s making meta that assumes that things were intentional and meant to be read that way. like what does it add to the actual text of the story to interpret izzy as a malignant racist other than disproportionate (to the amount of violence faced by every other character) amounts of trauma to ed specifically, trauma that no other character has to live with every single day, that apparently is normal enough that he doesn’t even react to it at all? a character that ed chooses repeatedly to keep around despite this violence that he’s apparently completely desensitized to? a portrayal of racism that DOESNT get called out ever despite every other instance being immediately identified and presented with zero ambiguity or leeway to the perpetrators? like to me that would make the show worse, not “nuanced” or “subtle” when the show is never otherwise subtle or nuanced about racial or homophobic violence. it would single out ed as someone whose closest relationship pre stede is one of if not outright violence then racist micro aggressions, and where ed is uncharacteristically helpless to stop it despite him repeatedly showing that he’s ready and willing to kill and otherwise get rid of people who disrespect him let alone are racist or classist towards him.

[batfam-horror-au]

This post is dedicated to @wesavegotham! They inspired me to go further in depth on this topic, and it’s helped me get out of my writers block! Or I suppose you could say post block. Either way, feel free to send me more questions, I’ll always be happy to answer!

Anyway, Tim Drake was absolutely abused. But I didn’t necessarily say it was his parents.

He was on some levels neglected by them, of course. I think it might’ve been later in life that it happened, but Tim was still a child whose parents were gone way too often. I won’t say I know the timeline for Tim’s childhood, nor do I know how bad the Drake’s neglect was. He did have Ms. Mac, but again I don’t know that much about her cannon behavior to tell you anything. I also think he was in a boarding school for awhile, but I don’t know when that happened. But I do think there was a level of emotional neglect that led him to seek out Bruce as a mentor and parental figure.

And on the topic of Bruce, he was definitely abusive towards Tim.

1. He let a minor be a vigilante. Of course this is popular in superhero culture. If we are looking at it from a purely fictional standpoint than it would, kinda, be fine. But since we are talking specifics here, Bruce brought a kid into his shit. The fourth kid, actually. Barbra got shot, Dick flew the coop as soon as possible, and Jason died. Which, if I am recalling correctly, was mostly because he was Robin. A child died because of that suit, and Bruce brings another into the fold?

2. Tim might’ve chosen Robin, but it sure as hell wasn’t something he could’ve consented to. He was a minor when he made that decision. I’ve seen many variations of what age he was when he took up the Robin mantle. 11-14 years old is the usually ages, and let’s be real, if you got the chance to help your hero wouldn’t you take it? Especially as a kid who has little concept of how bad the world is.

3. I have to say this again, Tim was a minor!!! If he had the choice, he probably wouldn’t go to school for the rest of his life!!! But Batman, the adult in the situation, let a minor be Robin again. He has an emotional reliance on Robin (both as a concept and as a person) that is genuinely frightening. This codependency is unhealthy. He might’ve said no time and time again, but that doesn’t matter because he was the adult in the situation. He had the ability to stop Tim, or at least try his hardest to keep him from going out. There’s a million things he could have done to stop him (namely being him not taking minors into dangerous situations in the first place (actions have consequences)) but he didn’t.

4. Batman has actually hit Tim on multiple occasions. And hard too. I’m not talking about just training either, though I have heard that Bruce has definitely hit hard enough during these so called spars to bruise. Not that Bruce would ever know about easing into training. But no, I’m talking about when he punched Tim in the face. In the Batman comic book titled “The Fall and the Fallen: Part 2” Batman slugs Tim across the face. Hard enough to send his head reeling back, and we all know Batman punches hard. We also know this isn’t a first time thing either. He has hit his kids over and over in the comics, who’s to say this will be the last time he’ll hit Tim? And I’m not saying he got the worst of it- Jason got his throat sliced open and Damian was practically handed over to Dick for him to raise. But Tim definitely didn’t get win the lottery with that man.

5. Take a good look at what these vigilantes do practically every single night. They run out and beat up bad guys right? Bad guys who have no qualms about killing this little slip of a boy in bright ass colors with a gun. And Batman dressed him in that, and I do not care what you say to try to make it okay, it is very much a not okay thing to do. It’s like he wants them to get shot.

6. He is dependent on a child. He literally goes crazy if he does not have a literal child telling him what’s right and wrong. Tim felt the need to save these people because he knew Batman’s secret. He chose that life to save Batman and be his moral compass. Maybe he did want to be Robin, sure, but the only reason why he even told him he knew was because Batman was beating the shit out of purse snatchers and nearly killing them. Tim, a child, felt like he had to make Batman need a Robin. If Bruce had half the emotional regulation of a bloody child all of that could have been avoided.

There’s definitely more I can say on this subject but I’ll leave it for later. I feel like this is good enough for now. I have a few other posts in the line but, but this one was at the forefront of my mind! And don’t worry folks, this is only the beginning.

=)

[chainofclovers]

Ted Lasso 2x8 thoughts

I am so lucky that the creators of Ted Lasso decided to make this entire show specifically for me. #blessed

If last week felt like a bit of breathing room (albeit tense, poignant, character-progressing breathing room) with distinct narrative lines, this week’s episode was a chaotic yet tightly-written swirl of pain and hope and sadness! No neat subject headers for this one, y’all. Just my brain and heart in the inadequate form of a bulleted list. It is the medium available to me at this time.

I am going to remember the moment when Ted calls Sharon and tells her his father killed himself for the rest of my life.

(I could say a bunch of stuff about his face and what he says and how he tries to hide his tears from Beard right after and how insanely much I adore this character and ahhhhhhhh but I’m just going to leave that scene there in our collective memories.)

Jamie. JAMIE. Higgins has given some great advice about love on this show, but his musings about his up-and-down relationship with his own father were not helpful in the context of Jamie’s dad, who is an abusive piece of shit. I really adore that all of the main AFC Richmond staff members are realistically a bit hit-or-miss with their advice and life philosophies (some are mostly miss this season, of course).

And I am completely in awe of the moment when Jamie punches his father. The way he just stands there after Beard kicks his dad out of the locker room. The way you can hear a pin drop. And Roy—Roy who is learning in so many areas of his life about his influence on people, learning that the things he needs aren’t necessarily the same as the things other people need—is the one to cross the room and hug him. Hold him, really, with the tenderness Ted used when he hugged Rebecca outside the gala in 1x4. God.

I’ve thought a lot about how s1 was about giving people a soft place to land. There’s always an angel there when you need one. There’s always an opportunity to be kind. If you look for someone, you find them. If you look for the good in someone, you find the good. And as everyone works through their individual journeys in s2, that can’t always be the case anymore. But there are still so many moments of angels on this show, and it’s not about chance and serendipity and fate [not that it was about that in s1] but about the effort it takes to become someone who can be there for someone else. Or who can be there for yourself. I’m so proud of Jamie for physically fighting back against his father. I’m so proud of Roy for being the one who recognized what Jamie needed.

I have every feeling in the world about how Ted is almost totally frozen both times (s1 and s2) he witnesses Jamie’s father abusing him. In s1, he was still there for Jamie after, and I have every reason to believe he’ll be there for Jamie after this incident as well, but that frozen stance HURTS. He’s in so deep with his pain about his own father that it’s like he physically cannot snap out of it to act in the moment. It seems entirely outside of his control, and it breaks my heart, because Ted wants so badly to be a good father, a good coach, a good friend, a good partner, a good patient. He’s there for people in all kinds of ways, even in his current less-than-capable state. He takes care of Sharon post-concussion and even gets her a new bike! During the disastrous match at Wembley his coaching is ineffectual and everything is chaos but he’s the last one standing on the pitch! But this really awful thing keeps happening to Jamie and Ted is just…frozen in the face of it. Like one of those nightmares where you’re running in place.

The frozen-in-place nightmare also kind of applies to the way the total separation between Ted and Rebecca feels, too. I have never for a moment doubted the writers’ intentions in setting these characters up as soulmates on parallel journeys, and I’m actually really digging (on a story level) how disconnected they are right now. It is IMPRESSIVE that their absence in each other’s lives feels like such a glaring loss, one we cannot forget even as there are so many other things happening onscreen. It is 100% not just shipper goggles making me process information about Ted while thinking about Rebecca and information about Rebecca while thinking about Ted. I know there are a lot of really angry and frustrated people in the fandom right now (both T/R shippers and T/R antis and non-shipping fans who don’t get why s2 is different from s1) and while I understand being frustrated by choices characters make, and frustrated by the feelings the show makes us feel that we just want to feel more of or less of, I continue to agree with pretty much every narrative choice happening right now.

Agreeing with the narrative like this?! This is such a unique experience for me as a viewer—to feel like I’m on a ride that is at once absolutely wild and incredibly sensible and well-crafted, and to feel simultaneously completely invested and anticipatory and speculative but also totally willing to trust where it goes. I long for Ted and Beard to really talk. I long for Ted and Rebecca to stop missing each other. I long for Roy to have a serious conversation with Ted about what’s happening with him. I long for Keeley to find a vocation, something that drives her beyond her projects. I long for so many things! But I wouldn’t long for them if this show was less good. If the show was less good, I wouldn’t have a wish list a mile long because I wouldn’t be so attuned to the details and potential lurking in every scene. THIS IS SUCH A GOOD SHOW, I CANNOT HANDLE IT, I LOVE IT SO MUCH.

(To that end, a great deal of the Ted Lasso tag and so many Twitter reactions reactions to the show feel super stressful right now and I am kind of just trying not to look?! I love this fandom so much because of the amazing conversations that happen and because of brilliant fic and because there are some awesome people I never would have encountered were it not for this show. That little bubble is wonderful and I’d stay in this fandom no matter what in order to keep experiencing those things. But fans’ catastrophic reactions to every little thing that happens, every little choice a character makes that isn’t the “perfect” choice? The takeaway that the writers—on this show of all shows—wake up in the morning ready for another day of torturing shippers rather than another day of writing a beautiful story they genuinely want to write? I do not enjoy those parts at all. I would like to opt out of those parts. I’m having such a magical experience watching this show and talking about this show and listening about this show and writing about this show with a variety of people who feel all kinds of ways. I truly wish I could somehow transfer the energy of this experience onto all the people who are hating it right now. I don’t mind at all that people are having vastly different reactions to this show and are sharing their honest feelings, including the really angry ones (I can appreciate something and disagree with it!), and I get that sometimes the language of fannish reactions is intentionally, ironically hyperbolic. But there feels like this very serious trend of people legitimately thinking writers on this show are targeting shippers and have lost respect for their characters, and I just feel like an alien from another planet when I see that stuff. I guess I just feel like people make art because they want their art to be visible to other people and to themselves, but that doesn’t typically involve specifically catering to or torturing a subset of that audience?)

I am more fascinated by Sharon Fieldstone than ever before. I have been running through every single action with her and Ted so many times. The confirmation that she’s living in club-provided housing (that could not look more different from Ted’s club-provided flat). Ted clearly noticing the many bottles. Sharon’s face while she tries to casually recycle them. (Sharon could legitimately have a more problematic relationship with alcohol than Ted does, and I find that extremely interesting and am very curious to find out what happens there.) Sharon leaving him voice notes while she’s concussed, probably because she’d been thinking about him shortly before the accident. The way Ted calls her and does all the funny voices and it’s not frustrating like all the times he uses his silliness and allusions to deflect during their prior conversations because this time, those behaviors are just a part of him showing care for another person. The way they stretch each other, and Ted is still wrong about the things he’s been wrong about, but they both grow all the same.

While it is pretty much impossible for me to imagine that this show would include an actual romantic relationship between Ted and Sharon (it would be beyond unethical even if they could write it well, and Sharon in particular is so professional and committed to her work, and it would erase so much of the powerful message about the importance of seeking therapy from a professional who is not your friend or partner, and I would totally hate it), watching this episode was the first moment I had this queasy little feeling that it’s possible that Ted could end up developing really complicated feelings about Sharon since, at this point, he’s been honest with her about things he’s hardly spoken about before and you can really form an attachment to people you feel safe with in a new way. (I mean, I’m sure Michelle knows what happened with Ted’s father, but I’m not even certain if Beard does.) He’s so broken right now, and Sharon is such a great person and so different from anyone else in his life (even though Rebecca is also different, and Beard is also different, and Roy is also different, and so on), that I could see things getting really fuzzy for him. I continue to have faith in the way the storylines on this show are handled. I’m just. Putting this here.

(In saying that, though, I also wanna make it really clear that I don’t just automatically assume anytime a new female character is introduced that they’re going to end up becoming a romantic complication. Like, Phoebe is allowed to have a teacher who is an attractive woman and AFC Richmond is allowed to have a sports psychologist who is an attractive woman and Keeley is allowed to talk to Jamie Tartt without it threatening what she has with Roy and all these people can exist as human beings without the introduction of romantic drama.)

Isaac gives every player one haircut per season, OH MY GOD. The JOY during the haircut scene. YES.

KEELEY AND REBECCA. Their text thread. The affirming video call right before Rebecca goes into the restaurant. The way Keeley sits all snuggled up against Rebecca in her office.

I was pretty thoroughly spoiled for the Sam and Rebecca plot through 2x8, and I was bracing for something far more problematic and tortured than what happens in this episode. The words I would use to describe their scenes: awkward, cute, cringy, and understandable. There are a million reasons why this relationship isn’t sustainable, but I felt completely understanding of both their choices here. This show has a lot of thesis statements, but I keep going back to the idea from 2x1 that there are people who enter your life to help you get to the next point, and I think it’s entirely possible that Sam and Rebecca will mutually be that for each other.

I find comparisons between Rupert and Rebecca super upsetting. There are absolutely meaningful things to say about the irony of ending up in a situation with an uncomfortable resemblance to certain taboo elements of an ex’s situation. But that ex is abusive and manipulative and cruel and Rebecca has exhibited NONE of those behaviors, and it makes me really sad to think that people feel that the writers on this show have betrayed Rebecca in giving her this storyline.

As always, I reserve the right to keep blathering about this show. I’ve had a headache for a couple of days, but my head is also so full of 2x8 thoughts that I couldn’t keep them in even if the circumstances for writing this were not ideal. I kind of hate that I’ve included frustrated fandom thoughts within the analysis of what I felt was an absolutely gorgeous, complicated, heartbreaking, near-perfect episode of television, but if ya can’t be a little dramatic on your own tumblr while you’re feeling raw and under the weather, where can ya?

[spideymarvelws]

 had so much fun writing the first scene dude... i feel like as a fanfic writer its a sin i haven’t written anything like it yet lmfaoo (to be fair i probably have but I just dont rem💀) anyways i hope you enjoy!

REPOST BECAUSE OF TAGS!!!

Main Masterlist / Add Yourself To My Taglist / Prompt List

Prompt : 9. “Then what are you waiting for?”

Warnings : just some cute floof, some cursing here and there

Word Count : 2.2k

Hesitation

Technoblade x GN!Reader

It was always peaceful in the tundra right before the sun set. Not only did the orange and red colours that reflected off the shiny snow send a wave of tranquility through the lands. It was a specific time where all the animals would go back into their homes before the mobs spawned at night fall, leaving the lands in complete silence.

Phil loved working at this time, getting small tasks done around the house that he wasn’t able to do throughout the day. Whether it was washing the dishes or dusting out the book shelves. Maybe even lounged around near the fireplace, planning out what he had to do the next day. It was always quiet, void of distractions to keep him from doing them.

But of course, with peace always came chaos.

“YOU CHEATED!”

“NO I DIDN’T!”

“YES YOU DID!”

The door cracked open, slamming against the wall behind it making the blonde jump from the sudden noise. He was ready to pick up his sword by his side until he recognised the voices of his house mates, shouting like little children.

Phil sighed, continuing to wash the dishes in front of him. While the bickering tended to amuse him at times, right then he just wanted to stay in the silence. He was quick to grab a pear of earplugs from his chest, pushing them snugly into his ear, blocking out the noise you both brought into the house while humming a small tune.

“There’s no way that your horse is faster that Carl! That’s just not possible!” Techno shook his head, his entire body still except for his left foot tapping consistently on the floor, “It’s just not possible.”

“Okay-” you pointed your finger in his face, “First off, her name is Raven and secondly, you just can’t admit that she’s better than Carl.” you crossed your arms on your chest, looking up at the piglin with teasing eyes.

Tech threw his head back with a groan, turning around gruffly and taking off his cape along with the skull mask covering his face.

“I won’t admit it because it isn't true!” he turned back to face you, mimicking your stance and tilting his head slightly to the side.

You raised your eyebrows at his response, nodding slowly, “Alright, alright,” you slowly took of your cloak, bunching it up and throwing it at him, his reflexes catching it before the fabric hit his chest, “Maybe it’s just the ridder and not the horse.”

Techno gasped, “You take that back.” he threw your cloak to the side.

You hummed, looking up and faking a thinking face, “Nah... I don’t think I will, I said what I said.” you stepped closer to the hybrid, sizing up his figure, “And what are you going to do about it?”

Techno squinted his eyes, a small smirk making its way to his face before he grabbed you by the waist, throwing you over his shoulder and walking away from the entrance into the living room.

“Hey!” You pounded at his back, wiggling in his tight grip, “Put me down you loaf!”

He laughed at your words but obliged, throwing you on the couch near the fireplace. Before you could sit up, he crawled over your form, knee besides one side of your waist with his other foot planted on the floor, keeping him steady hovering over you.

“Techno-” you chuckled nervously, trying your best not to stray away from his intense gaze, fighting the heat starting to rise to your face. Your hands pushed at his chest, weakening when he brought his face closer to yours, making you feel smaller than you already were.

He didn’t say anything, instead his fingers dug into your stomach, wiggling them across the fabric of your shirt. Your laugher filled the air, high pitched and bouncing off the walls of the cottage. You tried your best to control them, not wanting to give in to the blood god’s actions so quickly. But your hands on your stomach did nothing to stop his.

“Oh. My. God! Techno! Stop you fucking- oh god!”

“Take it back Y/n!” he laughed along with you, continuing his assault on your stomach, “Take it back or I swear to god you’re going to loose a canon life from being too ticklish.”

“NEVER!” you shouted between laugher, screaming when his hands began to move faster, knocking the breath out of your lungs. In the heat of the moment, he took your wrists into his fist, pinning them above your head, keeping your hands from interfering with his plans.

“Say. It.” even with one hand we was doing enough to keep you squirming underneath him, desperate for an escape.

“Okay! Okay! You- You’re a good rider Techno! You’re a good rider!” you finally admitted, your body falling limp against the cushions when he finally raised his fingers from your stomach.

Techno laughed at your state, leaning back with a cocky smirk on his face, “Glad to know we could come to an agreement,”

“I hate you,” you mumbled, your head rolling to the side on your shoulder as you caught your breath. You closed eyes in relief that the past few minutes were over, nearly falling asleep with the amount of energy you spent laughing.

Techno chuckled, taking your chin into his fingers, turning your head to look back at him, “Is that so?”

You nodded, fluttering your eyes open to look up at the pink haired man. Your breath hitched when you noticed how close his face was to yours. His entire presence felt suddenly close, his chest puffed out with long breaths, his legs practically tangled with yours, his face hovering over you, radiating heat you didn’t notice while he was tickling you. You watched as his face lit up red, his piglin ears straightening out of the side of his head, probably taking in the proximity as well.

Techno wasn’t one to get flustered often, but when he did it was always with the people he cared about. He trusted them enough to let that blood god persona he put on fade away leaving behind his shy, nerdy side you always adored. The side of techno who would read by the fireplace with Steve sat snuggly in his lap, the Techno who would spend hours trying to fix his glasses that broke constantly in his strong grip only having to craft a new one. The Techno who would grumble about compliments from you and Phil but the subtle spread of pink across his face told everyone otherwise. The Techno you grew to love the more and more he let you it.

He began to get a lot more playful with you as you friendship grew. When you moved in with him out in the snow it only increased drastically. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for the both of you to end up in this position or something similar to it (like the time he pinned you down during training), but he would always stop before things got too intimate and while it hurt, you’ve grown to accept it. You were glad to be his friend, his companion. You would take his friendship over not knowing him at all any time of the day.

You waited for him to pull back. To stand up and dust off his clothes, offering you his hand to pull you up with him and continue that night like normal. But he stayed, his dark, dull eyes staying down at you with a shine you’ve never seen up close before.

Techno didn’t know what to do either. He didn’t know what was prompted him to stay in this position, the sudden confidence that pushed him to keep his hand on your face, his lips so close to yours.  Maybe it was the voices in his head, annoyed with the constant stares and thoughts of adoration when you rode Raven around in the snow, your cape flowing beautifully behind you, face showing nothing but pure joy. They were relentless, calling him out on every emotion he was feeling because of you.

He wanted to move for your sake, he was the one on top of you in the first place, pinning you down. You were probably being polite not shoving him off of you, even if you’ve never done it before, he just always pulled away before you could. But he couldn’t, his muscles stiff and unable to move.

A small part of his brain told him you wanted this too, but he ignored it for his own sanity.

“Techno-” you whispered but before you could continue, the hybrid immediately took the single word as a protest, finally letting go of your hands but keeping his body close.

“Shit I’m sorry that- that was probably a bit much.”

You giggled softly, “No- uh, it was fine tech, no worries,”

He looked down at your bright smile glowing in his face.

“You’re really beautiful Y/n,” he whispered, letting the rough pads of his fingers trail down the side of your face, blushing when you nudged them with your cheek, accepting the comfort.

“You think so?” you whispered back, looking up at him with doe eyes.

“I-” he started, his breath hot against the tip of your nose as he glanced down to your lips, quickly looking back into your eyes. Why weren’t you moving? Why weren’t you cringing, laughing at the thought of ever kissing him?

“You- Do you want this.” you whispered, letting his thumb pull down at your bottom lip, watching as the plush skin softly bounced back.

He nodded, shivering when you tangled your fingers into his pick curls, pulling his face down and nudging your nose against his. He closed his eyes, a small, cute snort coming from the back of his throat at the affection.

“Then what are you waiting for?”

“FUCK!”

You jumped at the sudden curse, Techno falling off of you and on to the floor besides the couch. Before you could process what just happened, the curse sounded again followed by a crash, both of your senses on high alert when you realised it was Phil’s voice coming from the kitchen. You rushed to grab your weapons from nearby, quickly pulling yourself together on the fact that your friend was in trouble.

You both ran as fast as you could, Techno in front of you with his sword drawn while you were behind loading your cross bow with an arrow. He barged into the kitchen, holding his blade in the air, ready to attack but all he was met with was a pair of wings slapping him in the face.

You dove under the large feathers, bumping the winged man to alert him of your presence.

“Oh... hey guys!” He smiled, taking out something from his ears and resting them on the kitchen counter. He sent a pointed look to the weapons in your hands, crossing his arms over his chest in confusion, “Why the weapons?”

“Are you alright?” Techno said, rubbing his nose from the hit.

“We heard you scream, thought you were in trouble.”

Phil chuckled nervously, “Sorry, my bad,” he turned around to face the both of you, “I just dropped a plate.”

You and Techno let out an audible sigh, dropping your weapons to the floor with a clank. You didn’t know how many times your heart could deal with the sudden bursts of adrenaline. Walking up to Techno, you took his hand away from his face, inspecting the soft red mark across his face from the whip of feathers. No matter how small the attack, you always made sure to check up on him, even when he didn’t need it.

But with your delicate touch came memories of the events that just happened

“Were- were you here the entire time?” Techno said hesitantly, looking up at his father with worried eyes. You took in his words, immediately pulling away from the hybrid, ignoring his small noise of protest.

“Yes, but i put in some ear plugs,” he pointed to them on the counter.

“Oh!” you piped in, “That’s- That’s good.”

“Was there something I missed?” he crossed his arms over his chest, looking at the both of you curiously.

“Nothing!” You both shouted at the same time, chuckling nervously.

“Okay?” Phil dragged out, pointing back to the sink, “Well, I’ll just-”

“Yeah! You- uh, get to that phil,” you began walking backwards, bounced into the edge of the counter. You played off the pain with a quick thumbs up and walking quickly out of the kitchen, mumbling curses under your breath.

“Are they alright mate?” Phil asked his son who seemed to be lost in his own world, staring at the spot you were once in, “Techno?”

“I- what?” He shook his head, “Uh, yeah- they’re,” he let out a small sigh, letting  his hand pass over his face, “Yeah, they’re fine.”

“Are you alright?”

Techno didn’t respond for a while, stuck in his own thought. Phil turned to his son, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, “Tech?”

“I think-” He let out a shaky breath, “I think I love them.”

...

IM SORRY FOR ENDING IT SO SUDDENLY

it was just getting to long and i didn’t want to loose motivation writing more😭

Permanent Taglist (Dream SMP) : @ossinsworld @lunarinnit @starstruckllamapuppy @shio-yuki @lovelychasbug @alice-blue-skies @chaosofsmarty @imamybubbles

Technoblade Taglist : @hyumiid @whenpugzfly @sammyxn @jackalopedoodles @notmesimpingfortechno @immadatmostthings

Crossed out mean couldn't tag :(

[infinitegalahad]

GENERATION KILL: COMFORTING THERE PARTNER

"This is just me formally submitting a request for that gk boys offering their own forms of comfort fic/ headcanon/ thoughts wtevr. Lol just as a reminder. 😀"@theboardwalkbody

Gif Credit: @ymagor

A/N: You're wish is my command, homes❣️ Here's a little change of pace! @theboardwalkbody inspired this post (and asked it!), so thanks for the Inspo friend! 🤩 I'm doing this for BoB and TP because I'm going through a slight writer's block and instead of thinking about long descriptions, I just wanna so head canons that get a little out of hand. I hope this isn't too ooc😔 Reader has *inserted mental illness* btw, it's up for interpretation! ALSO GN! READER! Enjoy!

Taglist: @theboardwalkbody @contrabandhothead

Masterlist

NATE FICK-

Nate's a calculated person. He can see the patterns in people, things, etc. Like how his father's eyebrows wrinkle when he's excited, or when his mother likes to prep a meal from vegetables to the main course. So when you're happy, sad, whatever-he knows it, and you don't even have to tell him.

He'll come home and see you. He knows that you've heard him calling you're name, but you don't move. He looks all over the house and finds you inside of your tub, just sitting there with no response. The water is running, and your clothes and hair are soaked.

So in an attempt to not disrupt your peace, Nate climbs in and sits next to you. You look over and he's stares at you. Just as your about to speak, he beats you to it.

"I'll get you a towel and some clothes."

And then, he just leaves. You hear the door quietly shut, and you blink for a few seconds. What the hell just happened? It snapped you out of your depressive trance. Now instead of feeling sad-you just were confused.

So you hear the door lightly open again and then close. After a few more minutes of soaking, you get out and see a towel and a set of clothes that are most certainly not yours. It's Nate's Dartmouth Lacrosse sweater and a pair of underwear-he knows you too well.

So you exit the bathroom and you see Nate, putting two cups down of you're favorite tea

And he's got that face. You know the face were he's like ☹️

"Hey, c'mere."

The two of you climb into bed with eachtoher. He throws one of those ugg blankets over you. You rest his head in his chest and he pats your head. There's a silence, until Nate says, "Do you wanna walk about it."

Normally, you'd say no and he'd read you a book you're reading or hold you as you cry, but this time, it's different.

"Yeah, I do. You won't judge, right?"

Nate tilts you chin up, and he's got a tired smile on his face.

"Why would I?"

BRAD COLBERT-

Brad may appear horrible with emotions and reading the room...in which he isn’t

Okay, scratch that. He tries to understand them, it’s just hard for him to give advice and use words to comfort you. He feels like he’s walking on glass, But sometimes, you just need him psychically more then anything.

When you storm out of a room when Chaffin makes a comment on your weight, Brad takes a few minutes to think what he should do.

Normally, he’d just leave you be, but he’s gotta do something. Getting up, he follows you down the hallway. You’re not far, and he’s calling you’re name.

You stop in the hallway, wiping the tears coming down toye face. Brad turns you around with his hands on your shoulder. He’s got a blank face on as he looks at you, seeing your red face and the tears.

While you sob and stutter, he fixes the collar of your shirt, tucks your hair behind your ear, which is normal. He likes to neaten you up to make you feel better.

But he starts to use his thumb, wiping the tears coming down your face. You shocked as he cups your face, making you look into those icy cold eyes. He looks like the Iceman, cold and emotionless, but what he says very Brad.

“You’re beautiful.”

Then he pulls you into a tight grasp. He’s a whole foot taller then you, and you like the way he snakes his hands around his waist and slightly lifts off you your feet. His sheer presence is intimating, but for you; comforting. 

RAY PERSON-

THIS MAN. although a hick with a big mouth, he does know when to shut up and can read you’re emotions like the back of his hand.

He can just see the sadness swelling in your eyes and the way you pick at the foot at your plate and avoid all of needs for cuddles in bed. Heck, it’s making Ray sad.

So he does what he does best-not shutting up, well-about things he likes about you.

“Man! Look at my hot girlfriend/wife! There reading books by the liberal media, total smartie here! Oh! And they have a degree from-“

Ray will also beg for to your attention and follows you around like a puppy. Like you’ll be sitting on the couch and he’ll come rest his head on your lap. You ignore him, but he starts to twist and quote random movies so you finally give in.

Is Ray annoying? Yes. But did he make you smile? Also yes.

Also Ray is a cook, and knows all of your favorite meals. Of course, he sets the table, lights a few Mantown candles (yes there real google them), and comes to serve your meal with two plates.

“The most beautiful man/woman I have ever seen, the love of my life, the apple of my eye, the Avril to my Bizzy D-you’re hot pockets.”

It makes you laugh, which makes Ray happy. He feeds off of that attention. You sit in Ray’s lap, eating hot pockets, and watching The Best Damn Tour. You lean on Ray’s shoulder, and he leans right back.

POKE ESPERA-

Alexa play Whatta Man’ by Salt-N-Peppa BECAUSE! WHAT! A! MAN!

Poke is one tough mofo. He embodies the meme of “Good morning to my beautiful wife/husband and child everybody else get fucked”.

But like every baddie; baddie’s gotta have soft spots for there bitches. He has two; you and his daughter. And oh god he’s love the two of more then anything in the world.

Poke knows you and his daughter well enough. His daughter first notices that your not as enthusiastic and bubbly, and then she tells Poke. But Poke already knows because he’s observant and very in touch with his emotions.

So when he’s a work; he thinks and does a lot of self reflection. He wonders why you’re upset. Did he cause it? What can he do to make it better? He asks all the guys for advice, and even his own daughter.

An idea strikes! Poke’s got a lot of anger, so his therapist told him to express his emotions by journalling. But Poke learns that it helps him get everything out of system, so he’s a secret writer. Heck, he even likes poetry; and would kill anyone if they’d find out.

While off at work, small letters start to appear across you’re house. Some are long, some are short, but there sweet and make you’re day.

“I held the stars in my arms wen I held you”

“I can’t wait to kiss you.”

“Your eyes stole all of my words away”

And the covers of the notes are done by Poke’s daughter, covered in glitter and Lisa Frank stickers.

You confront Poke about this “mysterious pen pal” and Poke is like “I mean, your lips do sound tempting”

You know it’s Poke, and he knows it, but there’s something about the mystery that is very romantic.

WALT HASSER-

Here comes our favourie country pumpkin

Now let me say. This man LOVES you more then anything the world

Doesn’t wanna show you off (but he does)

So when you’re the slightest bit sad, Walt is even sadder then you are

Walt is someone that lives to receive attention, and also he’s someone that likes to give it. Especially to the love of his life!

Walt gives you things you actually need, and nothing that is materialistic. Growing up, his parents had a healthy relationship, and the apple clearly doesn’t fall far from the tree.

Waits on you hand and foot. A back massage? Done. A fuzzy blanket? Right on it! A specific burger from a joint that is thirty minutes away at three in the morning? Walt’s driving like a manic just for you. You have the man’s undivided attention.

“Walt?”

He stops whatever he’s doing and runs over, getting on his knees, “Yeah, what’s up baby?”

“Can you sing the song? Y’know, our song?”

Walt nods his head, now an eager puppy, and gets his gutair to play the song he wrote especially for you. And this is making me realize how painfully single I am oh my

RUDY REYES-

Rudy has an iv of respect woman/men juice. He always understands the assignment-and desires extra credit.

So whenever you’re down in the dumps, Rudy will drop everything and drag you into the car to go walk on his favorite trail. It’s ten miles long, but Rudy is a fitness freak.

First, you hate doing it. But the more you talk these long walks, the more you begin to enjoy it.

Sometimes there silence. Rudy won’t speak force you to talk. Talking is stressful, and Rudy will wait until you’re ready. The two of you holds hands, and Rudy has such a calming presence. It’s really hard to get angry at him.

You finally speak and tell Rudy you’re problems, and he listens and doesn’t interrupt. He’s got a hand on you’re lower back, or on your thigh. He’s basically you’re emotional support teddy bear and will always be a lending ear, or a total cuddle monster.

Rudy has the best advice as well. It’s always some yoga shit, but damn, those breathing  exercises do actually help.

EVAN “Q-TIP” STAFFORD-

Oh Q-Tip. My feral goblin son😭

I love him, but sometimes-things can fly over his head.

But when you start to ignore him and hide away from him, he begins to notice. And he HATES IT.

Like Christianson will ask him if he’s okay and he’ll literally quote a 2pac song and be like,

“I would drop all my girls for you, Walk barefoot 'round the world for you, Fly around like the birds for you, Thats why I wrote these words for you..”

Lilley is like “Brah we gotta help a homie out”

So the three stooges create Lovegate. The mission? to make Q-Tip’s partner happier.

Q-Tip is very artistically inclined. So with Christenson’s editing skills and Lilley’s camera, Q-Tip writes you a song and does a whole music video.

The man rents out a movie theatre venue just to show you. Of course, you’re blown away. It’s horrible and you can taste the autotone, BUT IT’S THE EFFORT THAT COUNTS. and q-tip has that smile on. you know what i’m talking about!

Doc Bryan walks in on the two of you making out and is pissed since all he wanted to do was see the re-screening of Bridemaids but NO, Q-Tip just had to rent out a theatre to show his partner a music video about them and then make out.

He see’s Lilley, who’s recording and asks to interview what Doc’s opinion on the music video, and this is what he’s says.

“I think my ears bled, but thank fuck those two aren’t acting like emo’s.”

DOC BRYAN-

The gif has a purpose. Trust me. SPEAKING OF THE MAN OF THE HOUR

Bryan, like Poke, is a very observant guy. He’s an angry motherfucker, and even a little insensitive, but ever since dating you; he��s tried to change.

He hates the world. People are shitty, and it makes him feel shitty that you’re sad because when you feel shitty, he’s in a shitter mood then he’s usually in

Knowing that his words might sound a little harsh, Byran knows how to distract you. Without words. After all, he didn’t work out for nothing.

Long hugs are you’re thing. The two of you will run into eachother, find a private place, and he’ll just wrap his arms around you. His big arms are protective, and he’s warm, and you just sink into him.

Sometimes, you’ll fall asleep. Byran sometimes will fall asleep with you, other times he’ll gently lay you down and put a blanket with a gentle forehead kiss.

When you cry in his arms, he’ll wipe the tears away. He can feel them against his arm, and he doesn’t know what to do. Crying girls/guys are not his speciality.

But when you squeeze his arm back, to let you know what your there and that you love him, Byran will freeze. He has no idea what to next with words. He’ll put his hand over yours, and turns out; it works well.

After this is all over, he’ll check up on you and ask you simply if you’re okay. You respond with a smile. Byran isn’t one for smiles, but for you, he shows a subtle smile back. Just to let you know.

[honestsycrets]

Love in a Cup | Floki x Reader

❛ pairing | Floki the Boatbuilder x Autistic!Reader, Floki x Helga. light!Ragnar x Reader

❛ type | one... shot?

❛ summary | Aslaug gives you a cup to give Floki: but your morals keep you from delivering. Tricky things, they are.

❛  warnings | Non-Autistic writer, first time writing autism, first gen vikings, love potions, light physical abuse, one-sided love, sister wives, jealousy, ragnar’s feely hands, trickery, mention of witchcraft, witch!aslaug (but good witch!), semi-mean reader, doesn’t follow Hirst’s specific timeline.

❛  sy’s notes | gif to ofmanderley (really in love with their work). not that happy with this piece but i’m exhausted with it.

Floki was her world. 

When she breathed, when she slept, it was as if she was symbiotic with his presence. Whatever Floki threw at her: insulting a suitor or murdering someone close. That was why, for the longest time, you repressed all thoughts of him when you were with Siggy, Helga, and Aslaug. You were the only one of the four and the youngest who had not married. It did not bother you. It gave you time to play with Ragnar’s youngest boys as a maiden who lived in the Great Hall. 

You whirled to the strumming of the oud. Sigurd mimicked the swirl of your hips and twirl of your wrists. Every once in a while, you tumbled over the little boy. As hard as you worked at dancing, the balance between strength and balance didn’t always add up. 

In the corner of your eye, Floki stood watching. His unapologetic smile, lips wrapped around the rim of his cup, gave you encouragement. He was watching-- with Ragnar by his side whose thumbs were hooked tightly in the belt looped around his waist. 

It was only when the music abated that you heard your name traveling like a howl on the oud’s notes. You tumbled out of a spin and dipped down to pick up the little boy. He was the one place where you felt free. That space where the music met the song. His bouncy golden hair was slick with moisture. 

“Yes?” 

Aslaug crossed the dark planks with a drink between her fingertips. You noticed her fingers twiddling along the surface. She looped her hand through your arm and began to walk with you despite the warriors’ complaints.

“Floki was watching,” she whispered. You couldn’t help sneak a slight glance at the man, whose blackened fingertips waved at you in succession, wild like the unpredictable ocean beating the sandy floor. She speaks again. “Why don’t you give him this?”

You handed over Sigurd to a slave and took the cup from her fingers, turning your back toward Floki. Your fingers grazed around the lip of the cup, drawing repeated circles. “What is it?” 

“A drink.” 

A drink, you soothed yourself by repeating it again and again. “But what else?” 

“Do you trust me?” 

Of course, you did. Perhaps Aslaug made some bad decisions, selfish ones, but you never doubted her love for you. You wrapped your hand around the bone cup and gazed into the surface of the mead. It glimmered with a golden sheen. It was no ordinary cup. 

“I-- I think so. But why?”

You turned over your shoulder where Floki was. His fingers rolled in Bjorn’s face and told him some raunchy joke. He laughed wickedly as Bjorn’s cheeks pinked. Ragnar must have run off with Athelstan outside for some privacy. Aslaug prompted your name again. Her palm settled on your golden shoulder. 

“Married men are always the hardest to catch,” Aslaug slid past you. “But not impossible.”

You glanced down to the golden cup and dipped your fingers in the gilded liquid. It coated your fingers like molten gold. It affirmed that whatever she gave you, it wasn’t mead. Or at least, not mead alone. It’s tainted in some way. When you turned up your head again, Floki’s lips were by Helga’s ear. He held her with warm consideration, rubbing her distended but empty belly. Light dances along the surface of her eyes. Everything pumps with a distinct, obnoxious loudness. You shake your other hand free of anxiety and turn toward the door.

It’s time to go.

You pushed through crowds of drunken couples, men with grabby hands, and women who laughed with the purest joy. You breached the doorway. Cool air bit your cheeks. Although winter was on its way out, you felt its touch nipping your cheeks.

You reclined against the wooden longhouse with a cup of mead charmed with love’s fleeting kiss. It wasn’t as if you were unfamiliar with spells. You made simple ones as a healer: mending Torstein’s arm was nothing short of the touch of Eir. Besides: if Aslaug made it, you decided, it had to be a love potion. 

Freyja, you thought, what next? You should spill it on the ground, let it dry and return to the love of the earth. But then what would happen if someone else came upon it as it dried? Would they use it for their own devices? Steal the heart of someone just like Helga: sweet, unsuspecting, and perfect? No. You would go the beach and dump it into the depths of Kattegat’s deep lake. 

“Look at you, moping all alone.” 

Light filtered out from the double doors of Ragnar’s mead hall. Floki bounced out and came to a stop in front of you. His hand rested on the head of his axe. You become suddenly aware of how this might look. A lone woman standing outside, lamenting your sorrows to Hati as the moon shone dolefully above. Floki comes closer.

“Ah--” you pursed your lips. “There are men standing guard.”

“They are still men,” Floki chirped. “They’ll do what suits them.” 

“Hm,” you nodded through his assertion. “And Helga?” 

“What about her?” There’s a pause before Floki reached for your cup. He loosened your fingers around the horn cup and brought it to his nose. He knew what it is, too. His tone darkens, playfulness undercut by a sharpness in his eye. “A tonic. A love tonic. What poor fool were you trying to trick with this?” 

“Floki,” you struggled to meet his eyes. Not that you could on regular days, but flicking your hands free of the animals crawling underneath your skin, you hoped that he would listen for once in his short life. “Go away.” 

“No. Why would I? I’ve been waiting to see something like this,” words pushed past his lips. “You are always so stiflingly good. No one is truly that good at heart. Who was it for?” 

You said nothing. Not with guards watching weird and weirder speaking alone: not forgetting that Floki was indeed a married man and you were a single woman living under Ragnar’s protection. Or, under Aslaug’s. 

“No?” Floki tilted his wrist and swirled the liquid around. He brought the cup to his lips and threw his head back to drink the potion. Your hand lurched to catch his gloved hand, squawking in desperation. 

“Athelstan!” you lie. “It was for Athelstan!”  

He ignored you and downed the drink in no more than three large gulps. Shame flooded your stomach when he pulled the cup away. You whirled away from him. 

“You liar.” Floki chucked the cup to the side. It clattered and rolled. In a last-ditch effort to protect what was, you snapped your hands to your eyes. If he couldn’t look you in the eye, you tell yourself, Aslaug’s potion wouldn’t take. Besides; why would you want to look into his silvery-blue eyes? They would be like Níðhöggr’s eyes-- when he tore you alive for tearing Floki from Helga.

“I wasn’t lying,” you murmured into your hands. Your cheeks were hot, but the tears soaking your fingertips remained as a constant reminder of the truth. “It’s the truth. Now go away, don’t look at me! You’re Helga’s!”

“What are you talking about?” Floki seized your forearms. 

“Go away!” 

As willowy and thin as he is, you expected him to be weaker than he was. He forced your fingertips from your eyes. You looked anywhere but his eyes: the make-up down his slender cheeks, his warm brown beard, or straight past him. For a moment, you try. But you’re locked with the reality of Floki’s impassioned stare. He met your gaze boredly.

“It… didn’t work?” 

“Not on me.” Floki hummed. “I thought you knew that.” 

“I told you. It wasn’t for you,” you bit out. “I didn’t even make it.” 

“What a lie.” 

“I hate you.” 

“An even worse lie.” Floki stands there otherwise unaffected, giggling at your deemed stupidity. He stood like the idiot, not you-- he laughed at your discomfort. 

“If you didn’t ruin it, maybe I would have given it to him!” 

“Go ahead, make him another.” he twiddled his fingers in your face, voice rising. “He won’t want you. All he wants to kiss his cross.” 

With that inflammatory answer, you lashed out. You did the only thing you could think to do: Thwacking him on the side of his gaunt jaw. His jaw gave a click as you pushed out from under him, biting back the tears welling up in your eyes. 

“I hate you, Floki.” 

He isn’t the type to chase and luckily, you’re not the type to apologize. You whirled the door open, bumping into Helga whose sweet smile felt like a hundred fallen suns. It’s too warm for what, inevitably, Floki will tell her. Tomorrow she will hate you. 

She called your name. You brushed past her for your warm bed in the Great Hall. Its woolen sheets felt prickly under your back. As the night progressed and the loud voices became soft whispers, you heard Helga’s soft voice like the scurry of the housecat that sat between your numb legs. Everything had gone numb. 

“Can I see her?” she asked. 

You closed your eyes. If you were a better communicator, maybe you would have told Aslaug to tell her no. But lo, you did not, and Aslaug agreed in turn. You forced your eyes shut and awaited a lashing out. If you were asleep-- maybe she’d go away. Save your beating for tomorrow. She kneels before you. You feel her warmth, her willowy hands grasping yours, willing you to open your eyes. You press them together harder, if possible. 

“If he loved you, it would be okay,” she cooed awful acceptance. Over and over. A wretched chant from the perfect woman. “You could come home.” 

As time passed and the drunks are collected, she took her drunk from the Great Hall too. You were left staring at the cat between your legs and the dread in your belly. 

She’s too good for you.

Helga doesn’t hate you the next day. 

Not that you expected her to. Her soft eyes were all the familiar, soft, and loving that any man or woman could need. Instead she told you, with pitiful sweetness, that you were welcome to marry Floki. Imagine your discomfort when you recounted the fight-- and the source of the welt across Floki’s pale skin.

Aslaug bid her time like a patient goddess, mindfully telling you that it wasn’t all for not. Whatever that meant. At the end of the next day, you sat nursing your aching heart with an ale that you usually took to ease pounding headaches when the light came in too strong. If only you could tear your heart out and pin it up in the stars. Then you would be happy. 

Alcohol made your fingertips tingle. Or maybe it was the soft fur of Aslaug’s marital house cat that made your fingers tingle. One or the other. At some point, you felt Ragnar slip in beside you. Whether it was the weighty scent of his sweat or his large palm that cupped the bottom of your back, inching like a worm to squeeze your ass, you weren’t sure. You squeezed the cat in your lap like a hunk of bread. 

“Don’t look now,” Ragnar hummed, flowing into your belly with warm affection. The man was like an older brother. One you didn’t question: just listened to. “But Floki is watching.” 

“But why?” 

Unlike Aslaug, Ragnar’s words were always followed by certainty. So despite his hand caressing your ass and the kitten kneading into your thighs, you turned your head into the side of his neck. Athelstan swung his leg over the other side of you like a second shadow. His patient smile another reassurance. Still, your hand shook in anticipation over the cat. 

“I think he’s jealous.” Athelstan chimed in. 

Heavy footfalls alerted you to the fact that Floki was quickly advancing. Unlike his patience with Ragnar, he shoved Athelstan unceremoniously to the side of a quickly overcrowding bench. Your sweet kitten bounced laps to the wooden floorboards. 

“What are you doing, Ragnar?” he asked Ragnar. With a sassy flick of his fingers, Ragnar’s hand fell away from your ass. He reached for a hunk of your meat, sliding it into his mouth with a less than a ceremonious smile. 

“You were watching.” 

Floki bristled. You turned toward him. Perhaps he could fool others with that tightly-knit jaw or the wildness of his eyes, but not you. You knew Floki too well for that. Your handset on his scrawny thigh. 

“Of course I was watching. You brought that priest--!” he hissed, glaring Athelstan off of the bench. Somethings the priest might have held his ground and accepted Floki’s typical beratement. Not this one. “To force her into warming his dick.” 

Ragnar swallowed his hunk of meat, wiping his fingers against one another. Just when you think he is about to say something, Floki goes on. “If you want to poison your mind with a Christian, fine,” Floki pressed. “But don’t sully hers too.” 

“Floki,” you dared. “Isn’t that a choice I should make?” 

Like a snake, his dark eyes flickered back on you. Something wasn’t right there, you decided. You pushed him from a state of indignation to one of range. He snatched your shoulders in his large willowy hands. Ragnar flicked the remaining bit of meat and leapt out from the table to Athelstan. 

“What does that mean?” he quipped, voice raising into a shout. “Were you planning on fucking him? Were you?”

You could have quipped back something mean. Perhaps, better luck next time? It lingers on your tongue a moment but seized by the panic that rides in Floki’s voice, you simply slumped forward with the stress. Your cheek connected with the exposed hairs poking from his tunic. 

“You are so stupid. I hate you.” 

His hand hovered in the air. Then, twirling down, he drew his hand through your hair with a suppressed sigh blossoming from his chest. He reached for your cup of alcohol. “What kind of answer is that?” 

“It’s a no, Floki. A no.”

He giggled. The warmth of his bouncing chest warms you somehow. Although you know that he’s going to put you through hell, you glanced up at him. His scrawny finger drew a line under your chin before he’d squeeze it for emphasis. He parts his lips to speak. You beat him there. 

“Yes, Floki-- it was for you.” 

I knew it! He bellowed out amidst full blown cackles. You sigh through them because of course-- he would have to show off in these little victories. The knowledge that the cup was for him or your affections-- as he perceived them-- were all his. 

He reached out to lift you from the table, spinning his jaunty feet over the floor. He’s more than your boatbuilder. More than a Viking. More than a man. He’s your Floki. You know he wouldn’t let you fall to the floor with even drunken, flowy step to the door because after all, Floki was the one who taught you what it meant to dance.

“Let’s go home. I want to see you dance.”  

@tephi101 @alicedopey @supernaturalvikingwhore @tootie-fruity @titty-teetee @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla @ethereallysimple @deathbyarabbit​ @deathbyarabbit @readsalot73 @natalie-rdr @lol-haha-joke @lisinfleur​ @hissouthernprincess @marvelousse​ @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol @vikingsmania @wish-i-was-a-mermaid @lif3snotouttogetyou @gruffle1​ @cris101071 @gold-dragon-slayer @babypink224221 @wonderwoman292 @naaladareia​ @beyond-the-ashes @generic-fangirl @chinduda @laketaj24, @peaceisadirtyword, @ly–canthrope @cris101071 @daughterofthenight117 @unassumingviking @ladyofsoa, @inforapound @winchesterwife27 @feyrearcheron44@readsalot73 @squirrelacorngliterfarts @gold-dragon-slayer @medievalfangirl @sallydelys  @bluearchersstuff @affectionrabbitt @whatamood13 @notyouraveragegirl17 @igetcarriedawaywithyou @unacceptabletatertots @ivarandersen @stra-vage @tgrrose @cookies186 @learninglemni-blog @theleeshanotlouise @soiproclaim​ @msmorganforever @destynelseclipsa​ @soleil-dor​ @strangunddurm​ @superwolfchild-fan @willbilliamson  @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie

[mel-the-fangirl]

The Escort

Walter Marshall x Reader

Words: 2,064

Warnings: none

Happy super late Valentine’s, Cavillry! As usual, this is a very very late upload but in my defense, it does say in my bio that I am a procrastinator soooo... Anyway, I’m really excited about this miniseries because I love the movie (The Wedding Date, 2005) and I really wanted to write Walter, I hope I do him justice!

Feedback (good and bad!) means the world to me as rookie writer, so I hope you’ll like, reblog and leave me some replies!

---------------------------------------

You could not believe you were doing this. You just couldn't. But there you were doing it, even though your mind screeched at you to stop and save a little dignity for yourself.

The fact that you even considered doing this was already a serious loss of dignity points, so what the hell. People did this all the time, didn’t they? There wouldn’t be a whole network of people clumped into this app if it wasn’t a normal occurrence.

It just wasn’t a normal occurrence for you.

Once you filled your head with rationalisations to make yourself feel better, you took a deep breath and began browsing through what the great city of New York had to offer.

Z, 6’, loving hands, fit, athletic, good manners, for water sports, caramel complexion.

For water sports? What in the hell did that mean? And that single initial in place of an actual name? Serial killer vibes. No, thank you.

Lenny, 6’2”, pretty fit Italian, excellent dinner companion, all occasions catered.

Alright. Okay. Now we’re talking. Tall, European, excellent dinner companion equals to good conversationalist, accommodating. Lenny goes on the list of possibilities.

Terry, 6’, my soft voice will arouse you, my strong hands will pleasure you,  let me show you how a woman should be treated, hourly/overnight rates.

Oh no no no. Major creep vibes from Terry. That ad alone had you reaching for another long swig of wine.

Joey, 5’8”, are you into champagne?, bodybuilder, will treat you like a queen.

“If you like piña coladas…” you sang in not even remotely the right key, topping off your drink

Josh, 5’9”, I can make you feel sexy and wanted. Fit, sensual, strong.

“Well!” you exclaimed drunkenly, almost spilling wine on your couch, “Tough beans, Josh! I don’t need a man to make me feel sexy and wanted!” you faltered a bit, your drunk mind still seeing the holes in your logic

“I just… Need a man to help me not look like a tragic spinster in front of my family and my ex...”

With that thought fresh in your mind, you reached for some more wine.

The ads went on and on as you scrolled through your phone, it was all a little overwhelming, how were you going to make sure you weren't hiring some psychopathic serial killing pervert to pose as your date to your sister's wedding?

The groan you let out bounced off the walls of your apartment. The reality of your situation was sinking in little by little. 

Yes. You were hiring a male escort for your sister's wedding. It was your baby sister's wedding, by the way. You were a hundred percent aware that what you were doing was completely and utterly pathetic but you’ve already weighed the pros and cons in your head countless times.

Showing up alone: pitying looks, whispering behind your back, having to face ex by yourself, staggering levels of embarrassment.

Showing up with handsome -hired- date: mother can finally get off your back, date is more handsome than ex, ex will want to shrivel up and die, no one will know date is male escort except you and him.

Now, let’s break down some of the guests just for the sake of being thorough. 

There’s your slightly overbearing mother (slightly meaning every call you have with her opens with the question: “how's your love life, dear?” or “I have the most amazing man to set you up with!”), all of her judgy eagle-eyed friends (mostly rich widows whose sons your mom shamelessly shoves your way), your extended family (some terrifyingly old school great aunts and uncles who will definitely ask if you’re married and smile sympathetically when you say you’re not), and last but certainly not the least, Jeffrey, your ex-fiancé (best man, but apparently not the best man for you, his words not yours).

"Lordy fuck." you exhaled hard, chugging your wine straight from the bottle

How on earth did you get here? Sitting alone in your apartment, working your way through your second bottle of wine (or third? Who was keeping count?), clicking on ads that spoke of "hot single males in your area" waiting to meet you.

Would it be fair to pin it all on the end of your engagement?

Picturing that moment, you decided that it was only fair. Those were five years of your life you would never get back, you were prepared to sign on for more but, yeah.

You were blindsided, that's the only way to describe it. All the while, you thought that you and Jeffrey were on the same page, at the same place in life. You were the golden couple, the couple that all the other couples wished they could be, when you two walked past, girlfriends would give their boyfriends a slap on the shoulder that meant, "Why can't we be more like them?"

It was so out of nowhere, one minute you were discussing wedding cake options over dinner, then suddenly you're putting the ring in his palm, completely in shock. 

After that, you threw yourself into your work despite the fact that you were already a budding workaholic to begin with. That's how you ended up earning six figures a year. 

Six figure salary, check. Doing pretty well in life all things considered, check.

But even with all that, there weren't any conversations over casseroles and cobblers about your many achievements. Nope, your mother and her friends would much rather discuss their worries that you would essentially, die alone.

Your little sister, Amy, getting married before you didn't exactly help to put a lid on all the chatter. And with Jeffrey being the best man? And you being maid of honour? 

It was a disaster waiting to happen.

Maybe you could make up an excuse believable enough to get you off the hook so you wouldn’t have to go?

Were you really thinking about bailing on your little sister’s wedding? If she wasn’t taking cues from your mother, it would be the only one she ever had.

Not one of your finest moments as a sibling.

With the complications of your situation fully realised, you took to reading the ads with a little more effort. Luckily, you didn’t have to look for long.

Nick, 6’, male, tall, good looking, strong build. You will not be disappointed.

The ad was considerably less flashy than the others but you supposed that’s what drew you to it in the first place. It was understated, simple, and his ad wasn’t entirely made up of overcompensating flexing pics.

Mostly because he didn’t need them.

Call off the search, send the boys home. You had a winner here!

Staring up at you from your phone screen was the most handsome man you have ever seen in your life. Literally.

A mane of thick, artfully disheveled curly hair, eyes that were a light shade of blue that had a sort of dark intensity and intelligence that you could spend days trying to understand, and a smile. Oh, that smile was absolutely suckerpunching. It was odd though, something in your head was telling you that this man did not smile often.

You couldn’t tell if the warmth blooming in your chest and creeping towards your cheeks was from all the wine or from examining this prime specimen. Jeez Louise!

“Phew!” you fanned yourself upon stumbling on a photo of him crossing his arms in a tank top. Good God, you hoped he had a license for those guns!

You had to set your phone down for a minute to think things through although it seemed absolutely nuts that you had to think twice at all. It’s just that after the initial excitement and hormones wore off, it was becoming more and more evident that this man was too good to be true.

Just look at him! Were there actually men that looked like that? And why didn’t they live closer to you? A quick sweep of his profile placed him in Minneapolis.

What were the crime rates like there? And did they have a high rate of murders relating to escort services?

Before you could even google anything related to that, you stopped yourself. If you kept at this rate, you would never get anything done! Finally, after a methodical deliberation (aka ogling the pictures on his ad), you saved Nick’s contact number to your phone.

Aaand that’s as far as you’d go for the night. You could call him tomorrow when you weren’t a floundering drunk. It was like your mother always said, “Always be sober for a business transaction, but anything else calls for a cocktail.”

-------------------------

The following morning, you sat at your little breakfast nook, eggs still piping hot and untouched, and a hangover in full effect. You’ve been staring at the phone number for so long, you could say it in your sleep.

Come on, Y/N, the wedding is five freaking days away.

What if this guy was fully booked? You didn’t want to spend five days surrounded by family with Mr. my-soft-voice-will-arouse-you, did you?

You slammed your finger down on the call icon and stuck the phone to your ear. Your heart beat faster and faster with every ring and your palms became so slick with sweat that you almost dropped your phone a couple of times. 

Maybe you should have taken your mother up on the multiple occasions that she wanted to set you up with someone. Alright, on second thought, you didn’t really want to be with someone who only looked good on paper but was actually an insufferable mama’s boy.

“Hello?” a male voice answered, catching you off-guard

Oh, God. Okay, you’re really doing this.

“Yes, hi! Hi. Uh, I’m looking for Nick!” you chirped, in a startled high pitched squeak you didn’t dare recognise as your own

The silence on the other end was starting to make you sweat behind the knees. It suddenly dawned on you that you didn’t mention any specifics.

“Uh, sorry! I got this number from the, uh, the ad. I’m looking for Nick?”

“Yes! Yes, that’s right, but Nick isn’t in right now. This is his manager.”

Was that a good sign? That a male escort had a manager? Did all male escorts have managers? You clearly didn’t know enough about this stuff.

“It’s a pleasure, Mister..?”

There was another beat of silence before the person on the other line answered, you tried your hardest not to overthink about what that could have meant.

“Foley! I’m Foley, Nick’s manager.” Mr. Foley’s voice returned to your ear, sounding much too bright for your liking. 

Christ, what were you, a cop? To be honest, you were exhausted. Despite all the alcohol in your system last night, you barely got any sleep. You spent the rest of the night reading through some reviews of Nick’s service as an escort.

He had a glittering five star rating.

One woman hired him to pose as her husband at a high school reunion and by the end of the night, she ended up proposing to him. He respectfully declined and even bought her dinner afterwards.

That review alone was enough to convince you that you would be in good hands. So, it was time to buckle down, swallow the nerves, and handle your business like the adult you were.

“Mr. Foley,” you shook your hair out and put on your professional voice. “I’d like to book your client for five days, give or take. I need a plus one for a wedding. Is he available to leave on the-”

“Please hold. I’ll check his schedule.”

“Oh. But I didn’t mention when I-”

“He’s available. Would you prefer to pick him up at JFK or will he meet you at your place of residence?”

“Oh. Uh, I guess I could pick him up. Do I pay for his ticket or..?” you were feeling a teensy bit of whiplash at how fast this was all going

There was some rustling on the other line and the muffled sounds of bickering. You tried not to let that concern you.

“We’ll handle that, Ms. Y/L/N. We have your number, we’ll be in touch for further details. Good bye.”

The line went dead and you were left staring at your phone in confusion. Did you tell him your name?

[maxwell-grant]

i have been watching old (and sometimes new) gmod animations and i grew up watching enough ytps to know the general idea behind them, and i recently gained a sort of fascination for them. there's something special about them that i couldn't quite put into words, but i think you got it down perfectly in your post about grand guignol. basically, thanks a bunch for that.

Well thank you! And, yeah, I pretty much grew up watching GMOD and YTP constantly and even today I still come back to those a lot when I'm restless and taking a break from work, and I think there's genuinely a lot that can be learned or discussed from them as uniquely 21st Century art forms.

I've been rewatching a lot of Raxxo's content lately and I think it was his content in particular that kind of convinced me that the "GMOD/SFM - Grand Guignol" analogy wasn't nearly as much of deranged word salad as I assumed it was, because in all honestly, if you had to try and condense his videos into a genre or definition or something of the sort, what the hell else can you possibly call this that in any way comes close to describing what you experience?

Like, all of his videos are described as "GMOD animated in SFM", because SFM is usually associated with more straightforward dramatic content while GMOD has been cartoon madness from the start (and it's fascinating to watch just how tame even the early Rubberfruit videos are compared to the kind of stuff Eltorro64 or Dr Lalve are putting out), and Raxxo is the latter in the style of the former.

And his videos are not just a non-stop barrage of brain-breaking, because they have weirdly dramatic pauses, and moments of straightforward action, or simple sentence mixing, and there's continuity between his videos, and incredibly smooth and natural gestures following by the characters stretching and deforming like jello monsters on the next second as their screams warble to drown the soundtrack and then everything's back to normal, and then they start doing things that kinda even make some sense as a narrative, but you cannot even begin explaining properly why, and I've watched these so many times that I even kinda start to see what makes sense and what doesn't, even though literally no one other than Raxxo is ever going to guess why he made the choices he did, and god these jokes must have taken hours if not days to render, why does the scretching Soldier head saying "Sputnik!" shows up in everything he does, and oh did I mention he also makes up the soundtracks he uses himself and they don't match in the slightest most people's perception of his content?

And for the finale of the Soldier Dispenser saga he created maybe the most batshit collaborative animation effort on Youtube, which is about an hour's worth of 200 animators all creating their own little batshit mini-stories in reference to his own and, seriously, who the hell could have possibly predicted something like this existing back when computer game Team Fortress 2 was announced in 2007? Or when Youtube was created?

Who could have possibly predicted something like this existing at any point in human history? Where else could anyone possibly experience this much audiovisual chaos anywhere? I can't even bring myself to watch the video in full again, but that this exists at all, and that it's far from the only one of it's kind, and that Team Fortress 2 fan content has spiraled so hard past anything the creators could have possibly predicted that it has self-sustaining meme ecosystems (Remember when smexuals were a thing? Or the Freaks?), that it's still fucking going 15 years past the game's debut, is, it's kind of a lot, is what I'm saying.

Like, I'm speaking as someone who studies a lot of pop culture and combs through it's most obscure and weirdest recesses to find stuff to write about, I'm still just as baffled by how far these things have gotten as I was when experiencing it for the first time. And you can find a lot of stories like these digging through Youtube Poop and the specific styles of certain creators or certain developing memes for franchises that grow and grow and permutate.

Think about what has to have happened to make a video like iteachvader's What'll It Be? happen.

Long John Baldry, blues musician extraordinaire, voiced cartoon villain Dr Robotnik in a Sonic cartoon. Said Sonic cartoon and performance was lucky enough to survive through Youtube clips. People noticed one of said clips of his performance has him saying a word that sounds like penis in a funny way, so they start making jokes about it, and parodies, and then literally hundreds of parodies popularizing the concept as a source of comedy, some of which take the form of music. Said music is done by cutting, remixing and splicing audio from said performance over music beats, which can be a PAINSTAKINGLY LONG PROCESS as someone who's tried doing that several times now, all this to make something with "Poop" in it's name (which I guess isn't that different from pulp writers spending weeks and months breaking their fingers to put out a novel's worth of content every month, for newspapers and magazines that were literally going to be used as toilet paper later)

These parodies catch on a bit and die out for a bit, until iteachvader comes along, and he proceeds to build a career not just by making funny parodies of said cartoon, but also knocking out genuinely really, really good musical parodies, editing voice clips of said performance to make it sound like the villain's singing (and additionally, he also creates his own tunes, and he's shown that literally every sound he uses is taken from the show, which is just, absolutely mind-boggling effort). He's also created over the years a running joke of Tails being Dr Robotnik's son that people liked enough to ask for more, and then we come to the video above, which is a song about Dr Robotnik spoiling his son Tails asking him what he'll want, which is not at all in line with how the two characters are canonically. And said remixes would eventually get remixed even further, even with crossovers with other characters or musicians, and so forth.

And that is the story of how dozens of creators working separately, and with little intent other than goofing around, single-handedly revived a dead man's music career, as the voice of the fan reinterpretation of a animated adaptation of a videogame villain, popular to the billions if not dozens of billions of views over a decade in the making, on a broadcasting platform said man didn't even live to see being created.

I think sometimes we like to think of ourselves as advanced and jaded enough that nothing surprises us anymore, and if we went back in time and showed an iphone to our great-grandparents they'd start screaming in sheer confusion. And, maybe they would, yeah, but imagine if you were Long John Baldry at any point in his life, even after he finished recording his lines as Robotnik, and someone showed up to you and explained that all of this was going to happen to you, to your voice, to your performance. Imagine if you were one of Valve's lead developers working on Team Fortress 2 during the nine years it spent in development, and someone showed you Raxxo's work and Soldier's Dispenser Quest and just, everything that had happened to characters you hadn't even fully created yet.

I imagine Long John Baldry would have taken it well enough eventually, by all accounts he was a fun person who loved to try new things, and he was an openly gay British vocalist in the 1960s when it was literally illegal to be gay in Britain, so I imagine nothing could possibly rattle his cage that deep in the long run.

But can you honestly tell me you wouldn't freak out at least a little trying to understand just what exactly the future was showing you? Can you honestly tell me your cynicism and world-weariness would be worth anything in the face of all this knowledge about what the world was going to do with your creations and work?

Can you honestly tell me, just now, that you have any idea what the hell is your legacy or reputation as an artist, or even what your art is known for, going to look like in a decade or two from now? And that things aren't going to get weirder than they are now?

I find that fact both frightening and strangely assuring at points, and exciting above all.