#writing and re-writing like crazy

[buttertheflame]

They say that fanfiction is all stanning. But has anyone stanned the source material to the point of getting distracted from writing fanfiction?

You know what I mean, bookworms? Just to give you a window into my oscillating thoughts: If my guy Jon Snow has returned to the Wall post-ADWD with his betrothed Daenerys Targaryen, yeah I'm gonna stan what came before and make shit up like crazy. The struggle is real! I love the romance of these ‘soulmates’ but I also love everything that makes asoiaf what it is. (Within reason.)

If I stan too much, I write slow-going passages like this:

Jon’s heart felt full as he left her side, his mind brimming with thoughts of their eventful morning so far.  My love, where do we go from here? He knew where he was going, at the least. He would find Samwell in the Flint Barracks. In the three days they’d been at Castle Black, both men had yet to break from meetings to tend to personal interactions. With the increasing days among the Watch, it became more strange to think of himself and Sam as former members of the order. He’d expected the feeling even before they’d left Winterfell, yet as he walked across the courtyard and felt the gazes of a few dozen black brothers upon his back, it shook him all the same. 

Yet another feeling warred within Jon Snow. On the right step he’d sense the men. On the left step he’d sense Daenerys. Her attention and love thrilled him, as like it had only one other time. On Dragonstone. Their home.

But if I hold back on the stanning, I write meatier passages like this:

It was hard to say if anyone took offense enough to the executioner’s blade hanging above them, for as often as the Northern lords, free folk and warriors large and small came up to the dais to present themselves, did the displays of fealty reassure her of Jon's leadership. Strikingly, the free folk never kneeled, but they did offer gifts, the most sobering of which were a pair of bearskin boots given to Queen Daenerys by a group of spearwives.  

She took them graciously and wondered if the wise men would believe the gesture had given King Jon’s uncertain frown a rosy flush. That he was charmed enough to tell her a tale of the hunter who’d fashioned them was welcomed with her whole heart. As she listened to him describe the father of two who fell to the Others at the event many had come to call the Passing Through the Ice, she wondered if the scribes of history would tell of this pair, the last he ever made. And as Jon sort of sat and looked at her for a long time, she wondered if they would believe she was hopelessly lost for him, as well.

So it's coming! If anyone has read "A Long Way Home" and is waiting for the next fic in the series, I'd like to get Chapter 1 up before House of the Dragon comes out in June. (Because of the competition, you see, from their very same Team Black forebearers.) That's the goal, anyway!

[sockdooe]

I don’t know if maybe it’s just me, but is anyone else seeing a rise of people claiming that they could do a better rewrite of Voltron and then immediately say they’d make K/L cannon or Adash/ canon?

I don’t know about anyone else but I genuinely don’t think making ships canon would make the show better.

In fact I think It’d make it worse.

And considering shiro isn’t even mentioned in these and if he is it’s just to be Keith dad…. Is telling.

[kinos-fortress-2]

what does one unfinished fic from like 2022 of a very rareshipp does a to a mf

and also a trashy playlist that got me in my own feelings...

[mortysmith]

Thought about the toxic ep Almost died

[pers3phone399]

sorry babe can't talk rn i'm letting another fanfic completely overtake all of my waking thoughts

(it's "Methyl Nitrate Pineapples" and its sequel "Cherry Bomb Alchemy" by @fablecore (razbliuto on ao3) if you like One Piece OC stories and one (1) emo Surgeon of Death you should go read it too)

[myokk]

When will you release new chapters on Ao3 🥲

Hi!!

I'M ACTUALLY ALMOST DONE WITH THE NEXT CHAPTER​🥹​🙏​ I'M SORRY IT'S TAKEN SO LONG...I just checked and I haven't updated since May 1st​😫​ this chapter is really crazy...and I've been having lots of difficulty pulling everything together and writing well😔🙏

Here's a little excerpt...​💓​

Her father barely gave her time to get to her feet, legs still shaking and fingers visibly trembling before he would cast that terrible spell again: Legilimens.

Eloise found that she could last a few seconds, staring defiantly into her father’s eyes, before it would become too much and she would collapse. She vaguely wondered if everyone felt the same when their memories were invaded so, or if it were just another show of her disgusting weakness.

She could tell that her father was holding back today. He wasn’t ripping into her memories and tearing them up like he had been the day before; this time, he was focusing specifically on the same group of memories that had to do with the day she was removed from their family and banished. Maybe it was curiosity for how she perceived the day, but whatever it was, Eloise hated reliving the worst day of her life over and over again. The day she had lost everything. The day it had been confirmed to her that she didn’t belong, would never belong. (Of course, before it had happened, she had long-sensed it coming: more and more frequently, she had spent entire weeks in her room, alone, without being able to leave.)

The emotions burning and tearing her apart were going to leave only a charred husk of herself in their parlor if they kept this up for much longer. It had been so long since she had thought about that day, and she would have preferred to never remember it again. If she thought her memories had faded since they happened, she had quickly learned that the assumption was erroneous.

“You need to clear your mind of all emotions, fool girl,” her father spat. Eloise took advantage of the fact he was talking to collapse into an armchair to her right. The bright light of the late morning was filtering through the windows and even though it was the end of October, it felt warm. She sat with her head cradled in her hands, not caring that she was being frightfully disrespectful by not looking up at him with her usual composure. Sweat trickled down her neck, her breathing was uneven. “How could a daughter of mine let herself get so carried away by hysteria? You’re a Babbit. So show me. Get up.”

Eloise got to her feet and shuffled over to stand in front of her father again. She tried to clear out her mind. Compartmentalize and fold everything that made her her into a small, tiny, insignificant thing that could be shoved into a corner. Picture a smooth pond, a drop of dew from a leaf suspended above, slowly rolling off the leaf and falling into the center of the pond, the ripples slowly circling out perfectly and look…there…was another perfect drop, about to fall into the middle of the pond and -

Loud, shaking footsteps came closer and disturbed the peaceful stillness of the pond and all of a sudden she was being tossed around by huge waves, salt and bile filling her mouth and she couldn’t breath, and then she was eleven years old and gasping for breath and bleeding on the very floor she was currently lying on, five years later.

Eloise was at her father’s mercy once again. She couldn’t move. Imprisoned inside her mind.

Her parents were both looming over her, an unimaginable disgust she had never seen before marring both of their beautiful faces. Theirs had always been a cold beauty - faces carved from marble, cut-glass features and generally impassive. She couldn’t make out the words they were hissing at her, but the hatred was something tangible that she could feel and it would stick with her forever. It was an oppressive and dark and overwhelming feeling. Her mother raised her wand, no doubt to cast another -

But her father grabbed her mother’s hand and whispered something in her ear. She nodded and slowly lowered her wand, and then they were both gone. Eloise doesn’t know how long she had laid there, bleeding and gasping, before Leo burst through the door, face wild. He had only finished his first year of Hogwarts - was only twelve-about-to-turn-thirteen, and yet it was on his shoulders to try and nurse his sister back to life. Loli appeared and silently assisted, holding her healing hands over the cuts as Leo cleared away the blood.

Eloise had remained silent the whole time, swallowing up any tears that threatened to spill out and staring up at her brother with solemn eyes. They both knew it was the last time they would ever see each other, and she had already ruined it enough with the blood. She opened her mouth to speak, to say something, try to reassure him that it - that she - would be okay, but no words came out.

“I expect you to continue practicing your Occlumency,” her father said as he extracted himself from her mind and looked down at her with disgust.

[xreanimatedcorpse]

I know outwardly during the trial Herbert would act as if it didn’t affect him (save for glaring at Dan, probably) but what if he had a trial in his head? A nightmare of sorts? Realising that, if he doesn’t escape, his scientific progress will be confined within a cell? Doubting his ability to continue? Questioning if he truly is ‘mad’? Mischaracterising Dan to be someone who was itching to betray him? I mean, he’s got to have some moments where he doubts if he’s doing anything right. They might be few and far between, and he always gets over them (for better or for worse) but he still has them.

MY RAMBLING MAKES NO SENSE I HAVE IT LIKE ALLLL IN MY HEAD HOW DO I WRITE IT DOWN

also my dad. I love him

i really REALLY don’t like these but I’m forcing myself to post everything I doodle

[averageclawcodeenjoyer]

Thinking thoughts again guys.

Thinking about Ganke (42)

More SPECIFICALLY thinking about Ganke as Doc Oct. Or at least, a variant.

I MEAN COME ON!!! TRYING TO GET ACROSS DIMENSIONS?? STUDYING THAT SHIT? That may be more of a 1610 Miles thing but I like to think that both Ganke"s are REALLY interested in it too. Or at least 42 is.

I feel like with the way their world is too, 42 Ganke is more likely to get a position at Alchemax. At the very LEAST for their science and tech and ease of access to stuff for his own projects.

But like. Come on. Look at him.

I just wanted to show that picture...

Assuming we know nothing(or little) about this Ganke's parents, is it too daring to think that, perhamps, his mother is Doc Oct? Or father, if we're being different. Just A PARENT in general?

And maybe I just like projecting onto them, but also maybe like... do you see what I'm getting at. Her ass probably hates kids. And isn't easily impressed. So imagine having a kid you probably don't even want (for science? Maybe.... more angst potential..) and he grows up absolutely DESPERATE to please you and get told that you're proud of him and that he's enough. And then he gets to an age where he no longer has to rely on you (or other people, her ass did nothing to raise him), and he starts thinking for himself, and since you're all bad and evil and stuff you realize something.

This whole entire time, the past thirteen long, dreadful years of your life, you haven't been using your full potential.

You have a pawn right at your fingertips.

A young mind full of turmoil and the overwhelming need to please you.

Someone who can be easily molded.

Manipulated.

Shaped.

Formed.

You have a tool.

Just sitting on the couch right in front of you. An entire person of just wasted potential. One who was sat on his ass for his entire life and done nothing (in her opinion)

And if you're all evil and bad, what are you gonna do with that information?

You're going to use it.

"Hey son I know I haven't really talked to you since your birthday three years ago but how would you like an opportunity to get close to the very grand and very loving mother that I suddenly am?"

He's going to say yes. That's like giving a mouse a cookie.

The chance to be with his mom some more? To finally get the chance to prove to her that he is worth loving? The answer might as well be a flashing neon green sign. Capital letters. Y-E-S. Because why wouldn't he

So she starts training him, in small ways at first, going easy on him since he's still just a boy, really, but gradually working him up with harder and harder tasks and missions until he's finally earned himself a pair of his own robotic octopus arms (that he had to engineer and build himself)

And FINALLY for ONCE in his fucking LIFE he is making his mom PROUD OF HIM. He finally gets the love, the praise, the appreciation he's craved ever since he was a toddler.

Ooh, and he's doing such a good job hacking into top secret shit and files and such a good job stealing and doing his mother's dirty work and-- what's this?

There's this new kid on the block.

Apparently, the old Prowler's retired. His alliance fell through. And the new Prowler? His loyalty has completely flipped. Motives, too.

Instead of aiding them in raids and taking out enemies, he's now actively ATTACKING them and foiling their missions.

Instead of being a villain like the rest of them, he's suddenly trying to get RID of the villains?

The fuck is this guy's problem.

Who does he think he IS suddenly poking his nose into shit he DOESNT belong in?? SCREWING UP GANKE'S CHANCE WITH HIS MOM!!! The chance he's been waiting SIXTEEN YEARS FOR! Oh, he's pissed.

He overhears hears his mom talking at a meeting about a plan to try and lure and trap this kid to get him off their asses (he's a master at sneaking and eavesdropping at this point.. even just to hear his mother's voice and think up ways he can make her like him) and he decided that this is his moment. His calling. His purpose.

That very night, he decides to make the Prowler (junior, as they're calling him) his very own personal mortal enemy.

But little does he know

The guy he's constantly trying to kill every night?

His roommate.

Yeah, The Prowler Junior(™️) is his high school roommate and (soon to be) certified best friend.

Blah blah blah they fight all the time oh but now they're chill and- I just blinked why are you guys kissing and holy hell your mother found out and tells you that you don't deserve your last name and will never live up to your potential (which, she claims she knew this, which is why she gave him his father's last name and not her own. Lee.) and you're fighting with Miles again and yet oh God now you've been disowned and have to go to him for help Oh No That's Bad What.

:3

Do you see the appeal. I need to draw him. And make more of this AU. What should I call it? I'll be thinking.. also open to suggestions I'm Bad at naming stuff......

OKAY BYE

[crimeronan]

"Hunter doesn't even know half of it," the Inner Empress says, hugging her arms tighter around herself. She's rocking, a little, as though to keep herself calm. "He doesn't even know."

Raine keeps their voice very quiet, very gentle. "That Belos hurt you?"

"No, no, that doesn't matter, I don't care about any of that. He doesn't know about the others."

Raine's brows draw together. "The others?"

"The other guards. The Golden Guards before him. He doesn't know."

Darius stiffens so fast that the mindscape itself reacts. He's not making it easy to convince the inner self that they aren't here to hurt her. Raine suspects that he doesn't actually realize how intimidating he's being.

"What do you mean by that," he says flatly.

The trees shake. Dust dislodges. Luz shrinks away.

Raine touches her arm, still so gently.

"Whispers," Darius says, edging toward a snarl, "ask her what the fuck she means by that."

This inner self doesn't seem any better at expressing herself than her outward facade. Raine swallows. "It's okay, Luz," they say. "Hey, can you show us?"

[sentimentalslut]

Sometimes I want to yell at you to update your fics but I remember you’re a whole ass lawyer and have a life.

also writers block dont forget the writers block

[whenthegoldrays]

So the more I tinker with Hardwick House, the more I feel that the story I want to tell doesn’t really lend itself to the novel format? I’m trying to tell a more episodic story, little moments all coming together to form a big picture, so I feel that it’d work best as a tv show or a webtoon or perhaps a series of graphic novels or novellas.

(A webtoon or graphic novel series actually sounds amazing, but that involves, you know, artistic skills which I don’t have 😅)

[scoliosisgoblin]

Don't tell my fat ass to stop eating!! Cook more!!!!!!

I am trying 😔

[wolpatinga]

[lucksea]

the inoue experience is such a fun one bc after like one show by him you can recognize his writing everywhere. me and my friend made a drinking game of guessing when a ryuki ep was written by inoue and we never got it wrong

his style of writing is honestly interesting. i didnt make it through kiva because i got so genuinely tired of more and more things happening without anything being elaborated on but im liking agito. vulpine LOVED fourze and marzen really like ryuki which as youve said had him on sometimes so i think he is truly a hit or miss writer. either you really like his choices or you do not comprehend them at all

once im done with agito im going to try and watch all of the showa era shows bc im also halfway through amazon and i really like the vibe of the older suits' simplicity and i want to know skyrider and black rx personally . but i look forward to eventually watching All of the shows. so i will be seeing inoue much more in the future

[yuriyuruandyuraart]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY @jann-the-bean!!!!!

you know i had to draw this lil precious baby again because my GOSH-!!! too adorable<333 (i believe she is capable of murder with how full of rage she is tho- gremlin behavior<;3333)

there's only so many ways i can say how much i adore your art and writings before i become a broken record because SERIOUSLY!!!! you are my biggest inspiration when it comes to writing and i swear if i hear you saying ANYTHING otherwise i'm breaking into your house no matter how far away you are cause i'm not tolerating such lies!!!! you are an AMAZING bean and i would hug you to death if i could >:'Dc <333

mocha belongs to jann

mobster au is both by @help-im-a-gay-fish and jann

[bestatsavingface]

Valentine

"What are those?"

Leon's voice bounces off the bare walls of their current squatting place, a mostly-furnished row home in the heart of Philadelphia. He's shrugging off his jacket, a shiver running down him as some of the snow that's piled on his shoulders slips down his back. He squirms and shakes it all off before beelining straight to the flash of red that caught his eye when he first walked in, almost tripping as he kicks his boots off and narrowly avoids stepping in a quickly growing puddle from the snow still stuck to them.

"Do I actually have to answer that?" Chris calls out to him from the kitchen, a playful lilt in his voice Leon knows means he's teasing. A gigantic bouquet of blood-red roses is on the coffee table. They're gorgeous, just in bloom, and to Leon's surprise as he touches a soft petal, he can tell that they're real.

"Where the fuck," Leon interrupts himself with a laugh that he couldn't hold back, "Did you find living roses in the middle of an apocalypse?" He picks up the vase, pressing his face into the delicate flowers and breathing them in. It smells heavenly.

Chris comes out to greet him now, and Leon laughs again as he immediately realizes Chris has found quite the jackpot today apparently. He's in new clothes, his usual tee and cargo pants swapped out for a half-done up button down and a pair of jeans that hug Chris' thighs so nicely that Leon has to fight himself to look away from them and back up at his companion's face.

"Looking good, Redfield," Leon murmurs as he sets the roses down and pulls the other man in for a quick kiss. Chris complies happily, a warm hand settling on Leon's lower back as Chris pulls him in for another kiss right after before pulling back and grinning at him.

"I got you something too, go get changed before you get frostbite." As if on cue another shiver rolls down Leon and he takes the stairs two at a time, hurrying up to their makeshift bedroom to see what awaits him. Leon's pulled off almost all his layers by the time he stumbles into their room, flicking on the light and smiling as it blinks on without issue. The lights were what drew Chris and Leon to the row home to begin with, one of very few buildings with brightness filling them still. The gas-powered generator they found connected to it was a godsend in plenty of ways, but Leon thinks the access to light is still his favorite. The closest to normalcy they'd found in these last few months, and one of the only reasons they hadn't continued their journey yet. That plus traveling the east coast in winter sounded like a death sentence.

On their bed is a few pieces of clothing, Chris got him choices. Leon's hands immediately grab the comfiest looking item, which turns out to be a thick knit sweater, deep blue and incredibly soft. He pulls it on, glad to see it fits well, the ends of the sleeves just reaching slightly past his wrists. There are a few pairs of pants as well, and he ends up putting on a pair of gray jeans which he may or may not spend a few minutes admiring himself in right after.

"Chris!" Leon calls as he heads back downstairs, suddenly remembering the bag that he'd abandoned by his boots at the door. "I forgot to tell you, I found something good today too." He grabs his bag and shakes what little snow is still stuck to it before plopping down on the couch, opening it, and rummaging through his haul for the day.

"There's a CVS not too far from here that wasn't ransacked, the pharmacy had been locked up. I got a ton of medicine, and some Gatorade, aaand," Leon waits til Chris settles down next to him and pulls out a handful of something, brandishing it at Chris who takes a moment to recognize what it is before snatching it and whooping in delight.

"I never thought I'd see a Reese's pumpkin again," Chris mock sobs as he clutches the handful of chocolate-peanut butter pumpkins to his chest, letting out an even louder cry of delight when Leon shows him that the lower half of his bag is completely full of them. "I think I might love you, Leon. I think this was the reason I suffered through Georgia with you, to get here, to this point. It's finally worth it."

Leon rolls his eyes, making a half-hearted grab to take the pumpkins back as Chris leans away and clutches them tighter. "Don't make me crush the rest of these, Redfield, I'll sacrifice this bag in a heartbeat." Chris laughs and leans in, dropping the Reese's packs back into the bag in favor of cradling Leon's head in his hands as he leans in for a gentle kiss. Leon relaxes into it, their playfighting forgotten instantly as he kisses back and grasps at Chris' biceps in an unconscious habit.

"I got you something too," Chris tells him between a couple more kisses, Leon's lips curling into a smile as Chris finally pulls away again and moves to grab something he'd hidden under the coffee table.

"Roses, a new sweater, I'd say I got plenty already, Chris," Leon says with a happy sigh, leaning back into the couch as he admires the man in front of him.

"Shut up," Chris mutters, making Leon chuckle. He straightens up again, the present hidden behind his back as he looks at Leon with a weirdly serious look. "So, I decided to check out that big building with the glass roof we saw when we first came to town. Turns out it's some kind of fancy mall. It's where I got the clothes, and they had these roses too, they're preserved or something so they stay like that for ages apparently."

"Anyways, an electronic display at one of the stores seemed to run on some kind of everlasting battery because it was showing the right time so I think it had the right date for today too. I know we'd lost track somewhere around Maryland. It's February 14th."

"February, damn we were way off then." Last Leon guessed he'd thought they'd only just reached January. That meant winter would be over sooner than they expected, at least. Chris gives him an expectant look, which makes Leon furrow his brows as he tries to figure out what he'd missed in what Chris said. It doesn't hit him until Chris sighs and pushes a box into his hands, lips quirked into an exasperated smile as Leon blurts out, "Valentine's Day!"

"Quick as ever, bud," Chris teases, the affection that floods his voice downplaying any pretend animosity he tries to give. "Sorry, it's not heart-shaped." It's then Leon realizes he's been handed a large box of chocolates, the elegant script scrawled across it some French name he doesn't want to even attempt to pronounce. "So, what's your answer?"

"What's the question?" Leon looks at Chris curiously, trying not to smile as he watches Chris' face redden with embarrassment.

"Will you be my Valentine?"