#where my horror writers at?
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For once! Purely BNHA! Because I CAN NOT stop Pondering It!
Quirk: Transfer.
Vague name, right? Well it would have to be. Because NO ONE would believe a Self Insert, even in a world of Quirks. They wouldn't WANT to believe. Because? The prospect would be horrifying and terrible.
It's far easier to say it's "Quirk Related Neurosis".
Because "no, no, you silly child! Your Quirk can't POSSIBLY have grabbed a random soul from another dimension, which it now holds, as the ONLY thing powering your body! You can't have died, with all the trauma and loss that entails, only to be shoved into the body of a toddler! Silly baby, such wild imagination! Maybe your Quirk 'transfers' memories, too!"
Except NO, asshole. They are the one with the metaphorical arm here. THEY are the one who would know which way it does and does not "Bend". But trying explaining a something to someone who doesn't want to hear it. Something that makes them uneasy, that is outside of their world view.
That touchs on the random, unfeeling, chaos of the Universe and how it relates to their soft and supposedly sensible lives. What do you MEAN sometimes Bad Things happen to good people? What do you MEAN sometimes, even if I do everything "right" and take every precaution, terrible calamities can occur?
That I could Die?
That my very Soul could be ripped away from it's rightful rest, too some far off land?
That can't happen! That's not FAIR. It's not RIGHT. Crimes are Illegal! You can't be telling me that sometimes people DONT uphold their duties! Abuse their power! That things are unfair and injustice can strikes, no matter HOW safe I think I am!
That's Scary!
I'd rather believe you were wrong.
That things Make Sense and there are Rules I have to follow. That I am Safe and you are just a liar. Bad things happen for a reason. Bad people are bad BECAUSE they are evil and bad. Let's not think about this any more. Let's talk about TV shows and take-out.
What a terrifying Quirk.
To be held, at the nonexistent mercy, of the Universe's randomness and decay. Reliant on the compassion and understanding of Others, to cope with what has occurred.
Because while the Universe is uncaring, your fellow man SHOULD be. Bonding together against that great and frightful void. Making sense of it all. The compassion of stardust and all that. Children born of this universe, who in turn look back and observe it. Yet? To them you are either mad... or a liar.
Do they hide it fast enough? Do they even think too, in time?
Or is their's a childhood being told "your past is nothing more that hallucinations and stolen memories" before being fed pills, for illnesses they do not have? Do they doubt? Break down and believe. After all, everyone around them is telling them their memories are false.
Not to trust their lying mind.
Children have so few rights. Madmen even fewer.
Do they lie? Smile, nod, and agree with whatever the doctors say? Do they know their mind or does this destroy them? Perhaps... they are lucky. Good doctors and better care. Long talks and learning to cope, with no one believing. After all, hallucinations don't "go away" just because you know they aren't real.
Why would their memories?
A childhood never quite forgiving the ones who locked them away. Being treated as "insane". Being alone. Not sure if you WANT to "make friends" but trying anyway. Because humans are social animals. Because you know what an alarmingly intelligent and self disciplined child, who ALSO happens to be notably asocial, looks like to people.
A life of fear and lies.
The chronic, extreme, stress, and what it must do to their health.
Does Transfer grow with them? Most Quirks do.
What a terrifying childhood. To know, one day, it could just... quit. A straining muscle that finally gives out. The Quirk that binds you into this body just... running out of strength. Letting go.
Maybe grabbing a different soul.
After all, no one ever said YOUR soul was special. And no one believes you. So no tests have ever been done. And that hold? How strong, you must wonder, IS it?
Do they drift? In and out. Does their body suffer, from stress and a soul barely bound to it? Poorly transfered, by an Infants first manifestation? Why was it a SOUL? The first thing they Transfered? Was it based on need? Or was it always meant to be this way?
Can the Transfer other things, now? Or still just themselves? Still nothing but Souls? Is it even a transfer at all?
And what happens if it stops? Or gets copied? Influenced in anyway? Do they have a moral obligation to avoid those they know could be potentially killed by them? Who could potentially kill them by accident?
And, oh! Oh the QUANDARY of children! Quirks are GENETIC. Any mutation or variation of their Quirk? Will bring about ANOTHER. Do they have that RIGHT? Too kidnap another soul? Even if it's just to no longer be alone? Too condemn them to live when they may not wish too?
Their whole bloodline would be Self Inserts. No guarantee they'd be from the same universe! But they would be Reincarnations just like you. Born into a Story. One you KNOW, by nature, can never be peaceful.
Because a peaceful world is not an interesting Shonen Story.
Just as Batman can never truely win, just as the day never truely stayed saved, so too will this world forever decend back into chaos. So a new Protagonist can rise to meet it. What RIGHT would you have, to knowingly bring an innocent person into such danger, trapped in the body of a child?
I ponder the Self Insert Quirk.
How horrifying and numbing it must be. How crippling, the terror that, this? Is merely the beginning of a Tale that will destroy them. To be inserted into story's they long ago forgot, again and again, with no way to stop it. Forever.
Damned to be set dressing in another's grand campaign, even as they slowly go insane.
What a horrifying Quirk.
The Self Insert Quirk: Transfer.
@hdgnj @hypewinter @nerdpoe @the-witchhunter @lolottes @babbling-babull
#bnha#bnha prompt#free Quirk to a good home#bnha oc#bnha si/oc#bnha self insert#bnha self insert Quirk#seriously i wanna see someone explore this#where my horror writers at?#my existential dread?#my optimism in the face of overwhelming dispair?
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(alan wake-gravity falls crossover) man i love that character. you know, the deeply paranoid author who made a pact with a dark entity that ultimately ended with him stranded in another dimension separated from his loved ones for years at a time? takes place in the pacific northwest? has twin imagery associated with him and a reoccurring specific piece of symbology related to the unfortunate situation they're in? doesn't ever explain the reasoning behind his actions and instead just kinda goes "bro trust me"? yeah he also wears an outer layer of clothing with elbow pads on it, that one.
#my art#stanford pines#alan wake (the man)#ford pines#gravity falls#alan wake#remedyverse#SAtT au#i am. normal about the crossovers i make up.#what do you mean the esoteric weird horror game about stories and the disney cartoon about family dont have a shared audience. sounds fake.#anyways the comic on the right is in honor of a joke i had to scrap in my fic wip due to a perspective switch.#rip that joke i thought you were pretty funny. i like the idea of alan critiquing his own manuscript pages upon the events happening.#oh i should probably do a warning since theres that crunchy image of the aw2 alan death screen huh. uh#blood#aw2 alan death screen my beloved. literally made me go ''oh god'' out loud in shock and horror when i first saw it#anyways did you know theres an au to this objectively already an au crossover. i call it ''bill cipher gets sent to the shadow realm''#bill doesn't show up a lot in this au he gets one scene where he taunts ford abt alan being a danger#with the implication that the dark place/presence genuinely freaks him out. but in this self indulgence of a self indulgence#alan essentially manages to trick bill into swapping places with him and bill ends up trapped in the writers room/the dark place.#lmao get yötön yö'd idiot. YOU are aleksi kesä now.#also i like the idea of zane and bill meeting as well as door and bill meeting. i think they might scare bill a little bit.#just like how zane scares me <3 what a cool character what the fuck is his deal#also you may be wondering why alans in his aw2 look and not aw or awan look despite the fact that lines up closer#to when gravity falls happens-ish. well the answer to that is 1: the crossover uses a lot of the elements from aw2#and 2: i like alans long hair and suit and beard. i like the pathetic sopping look when his hair is in his face
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YELLOWJACKETS ⇢ 1x01 | PILOT
#pit girl you will ALWAYS be famous to me#ever since i saw that interview with the creators where they were like 'oh we wanted to make sure it wasn't too specific or w/e since we#didnt know which actors would still be around later'....... like. that's my villain origin story#here i am analyzing the calf circumference of pit girl trying to figure out who it is! meaning the writers are like: oh shes just some extr#yellowjackets#yellowjacketsedit#yellowjacketsgifs#yellowjacketscentral#96yellowjackets#pit girl#1x01#yellowjackets 1x01#long post#mygifs#mygifsets#myedits#tw blood#tw body horror#tw gore
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A quick bluebelle painting :))
#when I had this hairstyle I gave up doing the braids after like 2 week#ngl it’s really difficult#anywayyyyyy bluebelle ilyyyyy 💙💙💙💙#DO NOT look at her left hand pls and thank youuuuuu#I FINALLY FIGURED OUT WHERE I WANT TO GO WITH HER STORY YIPEE‼️‼️‼️‼️#do I have it written down or finalized yet?????? absolutely not#but I have the skeleton#I have to construct the flesh and the sinew#sigh the horror writer in me will literally never leave <333#live laugh love you sapphic cannibalism story I wrote you will forever be famous#so I figured something cool out about being half deaf#when I use my headphones#I only have to use one so when that one runs out of battery#I can just put the other one in!!!#but ✨backwards✨✨#guys I love the lady of shallot she’s so bluebelle coded#IM FINALLY WORKING ON AN ACTUAL PROJECT AGAIN#it’s another oc painting….but more of them at once…..#I’ve never embarked on such an adventure before#I’m having so much fun#I need to shut up oh my god 😭😭😭#shamelessly oc posting#you can do whatever you want forever!! (except when it’s me lmaoooo)#okay okay okay Bluebelle you will be FOREVER famous 💙💙#cats the musical#cats musical#cats oc#jellicle oc#sorah’s silly scribbles
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#it's been TEN YEARS!!!!!!! NO ONE CARES!!!!!!!!#thomas.txt#im about to lose my whimsy. sorry. hold on#people think they're such geniuses for picking up on the ham-handed signals the game throws at them and#then absolutely fail to absorb the worldbuilding that informs why a percentage of the characters feel strongly abt those material condition#-s bc they're too busy jerking themselves off over how leftist it is to believe in wizard rights. like it matters#this reminds me of that fic writer back in 2014-16 era who wrote some modern au where her white lavellan got pulled over by a cop#for being an elf. or an elf mage. idk or care#& it blew up bc this dipshit thought that western fantasy analogs could be legitimately applied to the horrors of white supremacist reality#i promise you people who actually work in these systems or have been affected by them think you're fucking stupid!#anyway. but i stay silly! xD
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Where Do Monsters Go in the Daylight?
I'm not afraid of the dark, yet I sleep with a lamp on, and a TV playing bad sitcoms from the nineties. It's what hides in the shadows The things that watch me as I try to sleep I can see them walking around my room biting at my feet every so often just to keep me on my toes
I see red eyes in the space between my bed frame and the floor Sometimes there's yellow jagged teeth as well But as long as I stay safe on my mattress It will leave me alone
Where do all the monsters go in the daylight
I keep my closet door locked because behind it are shadows that dance late at night, a tree tapping on my window wakes me to see piles of clothes during the day now human like shapes, swaying in the dark And I always let a sharp yelp before laughing at my own irrational fears but as I lay my head back upon my pillow I swear I can hear breathing in my ear and the clothes shift and move Somewhere outside, a coyote howls
and chills run up my spine
#writers and poets#poems on tumblr#original poem#poem#poetry#spilled thoughts#spilled feelings#spilled writing#writing#my writing#spilled poetry#spilled emotions#spilled words#writers on tumblr#poets and writers#creative writing#writerscommunity#writer#crmsnmth#Where Do Monsters Go in the Dalylight?#fear#monsters under the bed#close the closet door#spooky stuff#horror#existentialism
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*gently places these panels in your hands* here have these curated baby joker images that i collected from streets of gotham: house of hush
#he is so itty bitty...#my baby my baby...#little guy i want to hold him so so gently in my arms and pet his little head#absolutely sadistic of the writers/artists to give us the cutest smallest little tiny sweethearts ever and then put him through The Horrors#he's just a baby :(#(btw if u didn't know. dini confirmed this was joker age seven. fucking. seven. god. hhh)#didn't include panels where he was visibly hurt/upset bc they make me Sad#only the images that spark joy#joker#pre-joker#idk (???)
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was reading a gofushi fic the other day and it was so uncanny like the undercurrent of grooming was there very clearly but the narrative refused to acknowledge it? and even if it did it was guised as something romantic or silly. remember that time i raised you and now your romantic affliction is a reflection of my own tastes? silly of us colleagues on equal footing. and then the scene would just move on as if i hadn't just read a 2 sentence horror story. as if the grooming was a mundane part of the backstory/meet-cute as relevant as idk hair color. which is kind of slay actually. schrodinger's grooming up in here
#don't ask me for the sauce i was reading in incognito because i thought it wouldn't be a good fic#however it surprisingly was well written#but now i can't remember the title and i used a bunch of extremely specific yet random filters to find what i wanted#then read a modern au from the same author where gojo was still a teacher & megumi very seriously asked him whether he fucked his students#not because he thought it was an ethical issue he was just jealous/insecure i think? again minute slay#anyway to which gojo replied no never! but my tastes do run a bit younger :) moving on#like!!! is anyone seeing this?? much like reading the actual manga#this is a configuration i like to believe d/estiel writers have to work with#like how do you romanticize the horrors while ignoring them while also depicting characters accurate to canon shaped by said horrors
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one good thing about reading a lot of bad books is it inspires you that maybe even you could be successful telling stories since people like these shit ass books and there's no way what you make can be worse
#signed- a bitch whos read several very bad extreme horror books and has ideas for their own extreme horror story but no confidence in their#ability to tell it#or even what medium i wanna tell it in. i feel like writing is the most obvious route but im not much of a writer#and i have some fun like. art themes in there. and so it could be fun to have in some kind of comic form to be able to play with that#either way i feel like im way too ambitious with this story to actually do anything with it#i want it to be really good but i dont think my skills in writing or art or story telling are where id need them to be to tell it how i want#plus i still need to iron out a lot of it. i have a general outline mostly. cant decide the ending. i have a few options im toying with#ghost.txt
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you thought i could only write poetry?? we’ll think not i wrote the intro of a story i’ll never carry on.
and yeah i shocked myself writing this in first person. it was a big bridge i had to cross to complete this. first person and original characters and all, be proud.
tw for blood, (pretty much) gory stuff and a low-key creepy ass guy
———————
To say that I met Nicholas Brisbane over my husband‘s dead body is not entirely accurate. Edward, it should be noted, was still twitching up on the floor. Ergo, not a dead body. That was until my hands found themselves lunging for his neck. His skin was cold to the touch, like metal, making my fingers burn from the contrast when Edward was alive… and now.
My eyes were locked to his; the once lively emeralds were glazed over and his soul was being clawed, desperately, downwards. The twitching had already ceased yet my fingers remained locked onto their prey. Slowly, my gaze climbed from the floor to the man a few feet ahead of me. My grip tightened. I try to let go. Thoughts were crushing against the boundaries of my mind, begging. Just let go. It felt as if the flesh was being moulded to the shape of my hand. A perfect fit. The man’s shoes were… ordinary. They were nothing whimsical or extravagant, but my mind could not supply any word but ordinary. The same went for his trousers. Pieces of material that was sewn together and bestowed unto him. Simply an ordinary sight.
Digging deeper my hands were clutching the bone of my dead husband's neck. The edges poked my skin but I did nothing but squeeze. His joints groaned under the strength I didn’t know I possessed, closely mirroring the echoes of pain pried from his mouth moments prior. The man did not move. He stood, ordinarily, as I strangled life from a corpse. The man with his ordinary suit that clung to his ordinary frame. He was just ordinary. Why could I not describe this man? I knew many words but only one matched his description.
My head rose. It was now not just my eyes looking but my whole face. The man… was this a man? Just above the shoulders, there was a head. There was a face but… I could not see it. I knew there was a face and features, but my eyes could not make sense of the signals. The sight was too much yet too little to comprehend.
I strained my eyes in an attempt to uncover the confusion clouding my mind. I heard a wet snap from below me. A soft thump followed. Wet… my fingers were wet. Just as reluctantly as they had left, my eyes returned to the body.
Crimson painted my hands and the broken ivory in the neck of my husband. The liquid from both severed parts leaked like a tap. It kept flowing… flowing till blood stained the skin of my hands and the body was wrung dry.
My hands shook, twitched, trembling but still trying to latch on to the heavy air. Before my head lifted to see a face — that was not a face — branding its stare into my pupils.
#writers on tumblr#original story#short story#horror#idk where this came from#that’s a lie this was hw#but idk where my creativity and a kloth to write long shit came from#i wrote the word ordinary so many times idk if it’s a real word
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the horrors are incomprehensible. to YOU. they come to ME in my dreams.
#i. watched a lot of video essays on horror today#to research and throw into the omelet of my book#book: it will never be enough#and i went to bed and slept for. only an hour and a half#and was woken up alert#bc i had dreams with deep rooted dread and unrelenting adrenaline#and a house that is too old and shifts aroujd me#and the darkness reaches where it shouldnt#and there's something in the basement#but we were also in the city. running from violent and fast “zombies”#and it was just like huh. ok my book is haunting me now#forgot that was part of writing a horror novel#anyways too awake to sleep now.#but i have stuff to do in the morning#author#writers on tumblr#horror#house of leaves
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my terror of accidentally offending someone by praising them for something they dislike is ruining my fucking life
#i know where it comes from too lol. these people in my program with their backhanded compliments#like you don’t even believe what you’re saying lol. you don’t think i’m trying to write horror lmao.#but i’m gonna have 2 sit there and be like ‘wow it was soooo kind of you to introduce me as a horror writer ❤️’#the horror is my butch characters lesbianism in general and any kind of psychology that doesn’t demonize one party#so i guess im projecting my burning anger outwards and getting scared that ill hurt someone the way im being hurt
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Once upon a time I had a nightlight in the neighbor's lawn
I live on the second floor of an otherwise average suburban home, a rented room from a childhood friend. It's quite spacious, more like a loft than a room; and curiously it has the only round window in the house. A port-hole looking thing with six frames crossing it, colliding in the center and forming a wooden circle in the middle of the glass. It also happens to be the only window in my room facing the street.
You'd be hard-pressed to really see anything out of the window. Between the frames and the height of the wall it sits at, it really only shows the tree line and sky. That said, you can stand right in front of it and get a rather pleasant view of everything bellow. I've rather taken to giving the view a few moments of my time here and there. Usually when it rains, or when the sun is setting, or late at night.
And from my window, perfectly in frame, is a lamppost across the street. Tall, black metal, dome of glass with no framing; bright white light that really doesn't travel so far. Feels more like a light house warning everyone "hey there's grass here" rather than doing anything to properly light up the yard. It's pleasant though. Only one of its kind I've seen in the neighborhood, and the only source of light outside of a house at night.
A couple months ago I was up late at night, as per usual, and decided to brave the downstairs for a cold glass of water. Now to access my kitchen I have to cut through the dinning room; and the dinning room has large windows looking out the front of the house. I didn't notice it till I was on my way back up. It was dark outside. Strange, the lamp must be dead or something; that's a shame.
I went back upstairs, spent time on my computer, paid it no mind. But then I heard rain on my roof. "Oh, lovely, night rain is beautiful." So I go to the window to look out and enjoy the scene. And I see it: the short white light and the tall black lampost. Huh, must be on a strange timer. But obviously this all doesn't really stand up to reasoning. It's like 2 am right now, and I got my water well after midnight. I've seen the lamp on much earlier in the day.
So I go downstairs again. The front door is glass, and it's pitch black outside. Maybe a bad angle; but no! I come into the dinning room and there it is: complete darkness outside and the pitter patter of rain. I remember a sort of panic setting in. Something was wrong and I had no clue how to fix it. If there even was something to be fixed. I checked multiple times throughout the night and got the same result. Through my window I could see the lamp, but from nowhere else.
I didn't sleep that night till the sun came back. But it was still there when I woke up, and gone again when I was downstairs. There was a day or two that I thought that this was it. This was going to become my quarter inch. I was going to obsess over this till it lead me down dark paths and into the bowls of hell.
But the attic door never lead somewhere new, the only night time noises in the house were the cats, and the only scary things in the walls were the electrical wiring. I've come to the conclusion that humans, or at minimum myself, are rather capable of coping and turning anything mundane. Not to say the lamp went to the background, more so that I grew used to it. I imagined where it was when I passed it on the road, often saying hello or goodbye. I came to treasure the view from my room, something literally no one else had.
I've spent more time looking out my window the past few months, basking in the light of my own little anomaly. Which is why I was watching when someone else finally noticed the lamp. He, or maybe they or it would be more precise, walked right up to it one evening. It came out of the darkness and into the lamps' light as if apparating into existence. Long coat, rimmed hat, vaguely human looking but a human wouldn't be tall enough to reach the lightbulb without a ladder. Much less reach through glass to touch it.
It's touch took the lamp's light, and the lamp hasn't been back since. Now, I don't think it saw me watching, but I don't know. The darkness outside seems worse. Morning brings with it the sun's light which takes away my fear. I find myself incapable of sleeping till then. Once upon a time I had a nightlight in the neighbor's lawn, but now I can't shake the feeling that whatever took it is still out there.
#writeblr#writers on tumblr#unreality?#So I'm staying up for the longest night and all that#And I went to do my nightly look out the window#and my sleep deprived mind thought “huh. I've never really seen that lamp from any other angle”#And this short just kinda decided it was now time to be written#I don't know what Yuletide curse I'm laying on myself for writing a horror adjacent piece where I'm technically the POV#But hey the sun will be back soon and then I can sleep
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review for the first half of t kingfisher's the twisted ones, precisely as I texted it at 1:30 am last night: "do not even remember the last time I got this scared by a work of fiction. I’m going to see can I sleep with the lights on. book’s great."
review for the second half: "uhhhh sure was a book I guess"
#the captain's library#I Did in fact sleep with the lights on. the last time I got scared enough to do that was after reading devil in the white city in 2017.#and that was because that's Pretending Very Hard to be Nonfiction and thus had a power to scare me in a way that fiction usually does not#(erik larson is an overdramatising nitwit and a good horror writer but a bad Historian and he can; as the poets say; Get Fucked)#anyway. arthur machen enjoyers should really read the twisted ones and then talk to me about it#again. the parts where it draws on machen and the mysteries and the weird-fiction of it all are really well done#but I started losing my enthralment when things got Really antlery. too many antlers in horror these days.#...also I liked the fact that tomas and foxy have a very mystery shack vibe around them. that was fun.
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"Lures my friends with the promise of clone murder, I know what corner of the Eighth Doctor Who fandom we met in"??? Nate what the fuck happens in Eight's time? Am I missing something??????
HJMFJKL WELL
Off the top of my head there is not an example of vast swaths of clone murder specifically in any of the Eighth Doctor's books or audios, although I could be forgetting something. But there is an awful lot of extremely fucked-up sci-fi and fantasy horror throughout Eight's era, because when you go and take a show like Doctor Who off the air, people start exploring a lot of concepts that would be a little too messed-up for family television but got a pass because of the shift to different mediums (this is also why a lot of the Eighth Doctor Adventures novels read like straight-up whump fic; Eight absolutely has the worst time of any Doctor and it's due to being the Hiatus Doctor).
When I was active in the Doctor Who fandom it was amongst the niche of Eight fans that were really into how dark some of the off-air expanded universe media got, so I figured "Hey, this other piece of media has some pretty messed-up speculative fiction elements" made for a decent selling point!
#baring my soul & taste in fiction a little here but you people already know me as a whump writer with a gothic horror lean in my stories#i spent my formative high school years reading novels where the eighth doctor ends up like. finger painting with his own blood#and/or almost torn apart completely by vampires#and turned out FINE AND NORMAL clearly
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the good news is that I finished a book and it got me out of my reading slump where I would start things, not finish, switch to something else, not finish
the bad news is that "yes daddy" by jonathan parks-ramage is one of the worst written books I've read in a whiiiile. bland expositiony prose, flat characters, a bunch of weird plot detours. Written like a 200-page Wikipedia summary instead of an actual book
the worst news is that it has such intensely favorable gushing reviews on goodreads, and the people who hated it mostly hated it for a different reason, and so I'm left alone like oKAY BUT THE PROSE WAS SHIT, HOW DO YOU NOT SEE THIS
#the writing is LAUGHABLY BAD you guys. how did people like this booooook#but most of the bad reviews are like 'I hated this book because it had too many rape scenes and lots of bad things happen'#BUT MY PROBLEM IS it's so badly written that it's like reading the wikipedia of a horror movie where it flatly tells you the grisly bits#very 'and then four grown men lived in a garden shed as waiters/sex slaves. one of them tripped and hit his head. he's dead now.'#just no emotional impact whatsoever bc this guy cannot write and the characters are all made of cardboard#it bills itself as a gothic/thriller but it has NO grasp of any of the conventions of that genre#there's a weird interlude where the protag becomes evangelical?? and starts going on about The Evils of Gay Sex??#he gets inspiration to commit arson by READING GOOP? AND THIS IS PLAYED AS SERIOUS AFTER HIS FRIEND'S SUICIDE??#how did ANYONE take this book seriously let alone enjoy it#it's SO awful. this guy CANNOT write his way out of a paperbag#it's even worse too bc the main character is supposed to be a professional writer with an MFA and the book is the character's memoir#which I consider tantamount to a plot hole BECAUSE THE WRITING IS SO SO BAD#the sketchy rich old guy and his butler/ex call him Rebecca and he doesn't get the reference?? he has an MFA in playwriting and yet!#it's been a while since I got to write a REALLY scathing 1-star goodreads review so that's cathartic at least
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