#I like. proofread. sometimes

[tanjir0se]

Disclaimer these are just a small sampling of some possible writer traits I’ve noticed either in myself or in fics I read. Also consider a rb for sample size !

[unlucky-xiao-hailuo]

Child of a Sea God

Rafayels child never cried. It made you nervous at first. While other mothers in baby groups complained about their children keeping them up, you found you had slept better than you ever had before.

It was like she knew she needn't yell. That all she need do was gurgle softly to gain her father's undivided attention. Even in dead sleep, he would check the crib next to the bed. One hand on her belly to feel the rise and fall of her chest. An innate understanding between the two that seemed to need no verbal communication.

A strange little creature you had made together. So conscious of the ebb and flow of things around her. Her curious eyes locking on whatever moved nearby.

You wondered if Rafayel had been this still before he had learned to dance his way through situations. Before he learned to hide what he was.

She moved grace. Determined to stand tall on wobbly legs. All pride, like her Father. Stubborn and moody in her attentions until she would suddenly still, head turned toward the horizon as if hearing some distant call. The interest passing as soon as it had appeared.

Readying the house for an approaching typhoon. The small creature toddled after you onto the patio. Keen eyes, watching as you battened down and put away lawn furniture. As you turn to tell her to go back inside before he rain hits, you freeze. Watching her eyes widen as she stares down the distant wall of rain.

Her expression extatic despite the pearls dropping down onto the patio. Each plink silenced by the electricity of the approaching storm. Open mouthed as she took gulps of salt air. Tiny arms tensed and fingers twitching as if a captain at the helm of each cresting wave. Almost gleeful in the force of every gust. Not quite of land, not quite of sea. Your daughter was the approaching storm itself. Joyous in its cacophony.

[ask-the-pioneer]

"Yes, I am now heading towards Five Pebbles, the local iterator. I find it funny how I was born and spent my first cycles in the shadow of his superstructure, while being completely oblivious to the existence of this demi-god. And now that I came back here... it feels even more uncanny."

"Though, I really... I really wish Hunter did not abandon me like that. I thought we were meant to go on that mission together? I'm not blind, I know something is wrong with him. We used to go on expeditions in the past, but now that he has a very important payload to deliver and could use some help, he suddenly doesn't need it? I don't understand... I'm more than capable in combat, we make a good team, I thought he was happy with my company?"

"We separated earlier at Farm Arrays. Hunter kept insisting he has to do it alone, despite my pleading. Instead, I was told to head straight to Five Pebbles. I thought we had to visit there anyway? Iterators often use slugcats as messengers, I've learned..."

"Sigh... I feel a little lost all on my own. I miss Hunter already. I hope that, despite everything, he's okay and we will return to NSH soon. But first, I need to pay the local iterator a visit. I'm hoping for some guidance in regards to... ahem... rot, yeah. I heard they've been affected by the disease, too. Maybe they've got an idea on how to manage it? It doesn't hurt to try. Maybe I'll hang around this area for a while to collect as many pearls as possible, then have Five Pebbles read them to me? One of those has to have some kind of instruction on how to treat rot, it has to... I refuse to believe that the disease which plagued iterators for countless cycles is untreatable."

"Uh... the Red One?"

[wickjump]

ok seriously though whoever the hell that anon is like seriously stop. i did not think? i had to say this?? but maybe don’t bring up my sexual trauma in my inbox and use that to psychoanalyze me??? because of the genre i write???? i promise you the skeleton does not care. i promise you this so hard. nobody is being traumatized or offended by this. especially not the character. i promise you cross is not offended or hurt or upset and neither is jakei. i am writing horror because it is a genre i enjoy. you have no need to pry into my personal life to ‘figure me out’ and convince me to stop writing in a very popular genre because it is weird to you or makes you uncomfortable. what makes me uncomfortable is when you try to insert yourself and act holier than thou. you are not better than me because you view the very popular genre i like as morally wrong you’re just a dick

[fisheito]

They turned my boy into Gary...

tbh it was kind of liberating because if the devs themselves can fall to the ol' gary keytrap, then i, too, can sometimes let my mortal follicles flow downward, and allow myself to lettersmash about gary and/or kary in my accidental overenthusiasm

[rowanintheriver]

hey remember like. the ONLY desi demigod mentioned in the rrverse? that guy mentioned in ToA? and all we know about him is that his name is pranjal, he's indian, & he's a son of asclepius?

well. what if i said i have a mini-fic, just 5 chapters long, about him. because i never got enough representation as a child and i'm making this everyone's problem now

[nyxi-pixie]

Took a nat 20 in psychological damage and need to share my pain through the absolutely moronic takes I have just seen:

"For bsd to have a happy ending, Dazai needs to die! It's also what makes the most sense for his character, it'd be his happy ending too since he wants to die anyway!"

AWFUL THING TO FORCE IN FRONT OF MY EYEBALLS.

this is believed because dazai has such an overwhelming talent at pissing off the audience that theyre beginning to think the only reality that can comfort them is one in which he fucks off forever by dying and theyre then confusing the story ending in a way which preserves their sanity as a viewer (deadzai) with a story ending that works well. unforch dazai would be a bother even from beyond the grave so even this would not save them!

[nemotakeit]

i think that if we dig all the way down to the roots of tøp's musical theme, it all comes down to that constant internal conflict between desperately wanting to be seen and desperately wanting to stay hidden. we can see how they've been making gradual progress in "managing the tension" but it's still there on Clancy. dare i say it's the central theme of the lore as well.. the reason the character & the era Clancy feels so rebellious is because he's actively fighting to Be Seen. the oscillation continues, but a subversive variable has emerged.

[stellamancer]

I'M DONE!!!!! idk how it got over 2k because it's absolute unserious ridiculousness. like I don't even. LMAOO...

[un-merle]

The good thing about being a translator by day and a hobbyist artist by night is I get to be angry about genAI 100% of the time.

[fastcardotmp3]

in honor of the fact that i just finished the s5 installment of (all my friends) may i offer you a sneek peak at the next chapter of part 4 (:

Buck makes it through security before he’s on his knees and puking in an airport bathroom. 

He didn’t take the time to pack what was supposed to be his checked bag, the one with all of the memorabilia he’d set aside to bring home with him, but at the very least there’s a toothbrush in his duffle carry-on, for which he’s tacitly grateful. 

He’s half surprised he didn’t get pulled aside at TSA, looking as he looks when he catches sight of his gaunt and harrowed expression in the mirror, but then he’s caught wondering if Daniel looked this feeble in his final days and has to hurry up and get away from all reflective surfaces before more bile makes its way up. 

There’s over an hour until his flight is meant to board, a ticket which cost him a pretty penny for its last-minute nature, and Buck finds an outlet to sit next to so he can charge his phone in the meantime. 

The Harrisburg airport is small, only two terminals that it takes about seven minutes to walk from one end of to the other. There’s an Auntie Anne’s he can smell from here and a closed Starbucks despite it being the middle of the afternoon. 

It’s not terribly crowded by any means. 

Buck sits on the floor beside an outlet. 

His phone rings. 

And a second time. 

He picks up on the third. 

“Chim told you?”

“Nothing specific,” Eddie says simply, and Buck is pretty sure he’s working today, which answers the question of echo on his end of the line, probably tucked away somewhere empty for privacy. “Just that you might need me.” 

“I’m at the airport,” his voice is hoarse. It hurts at the back of his throat. He should get a bottle of water. They probably sell them at the Auntie Anne’s. It probably costs seventeen dollars.

“Coming home early?” Eddie has this way of being blunt and careful at the same time. “Miss us that bad, huh?”

Something abrupt crawls up his throat and has him choking on a burst of laughter, all watery and wrong. He pinches at the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes and hears his own grief in his voice when he agrees, “yeah.” 

Breathing room. Eddie doesn’t respond immediately and Buck is grateful for it, but hears the rattle in his own inhale in the space provided and knows he’s not putting on any sort of show for anyone, let alone Eddie. 

The gate is mostly empty, a few passengers scattered about waiting for their flights, and Buck feels like he’s on display as he covers his eyes with his hands like an ostrich with its head in the sand. 

Eddie lets the quiet between them stretch and then fold back in on itself for longer than Buck thought he’d be capable of, and it’s exactly what Buck needs right now in spite of not having known that for himself. 

Not being pressured to speak, to explain what’s happened, what he is, while still being allowed to not sit alone in it? 

Eddie sits with him, even from so far away, just the same as how they sit with each other on that old couch in the Diaz living room on late nights where quiet wakefulness is the only option. 

“My flight is boarding soon,” he eventually has to say, breath coming easier if not easy and heartbeat a little more steady in his chest. 

“Let me pick you up? When do you land?”

Buck shakes his head, “gotta get my car outta LAX parking.”

“Rookie move, bud.”

“Yeah.”

“Come over?”

“It’ll be late, I think. You’ll still be on shift tomorrow anyway.” 

Eddie hums, contemplative, and then: “I’ll stop pushing. Not forever, though. Okay?”

Buck swallows. 

“Well. You’re predictable like that, I guess.”

[blaithnne]

The adhd urge to post every chapter immediately after writing it vs the autism urge to wait until the entire fanfic is finished and has pictures to go along with it before even mentioning it exists

[m0nost4tic]

not super sure how to open this, buuut i was scavenging my brain for characterization on langris vaude - planning a long-term project for after my surgery and finishing that magluck fic i started - and i figured now's a better time than ever to textpost my long, complicated thoughts on langris vaude and finral roulacase's relationship from langris' pov (in specifically episode 80 bc i cut this short)

so. here's my unmedicated adhd rambling at two in the morning!!!1!

to be completely and entirely honest, the very first time i encountered langris' character, i didn't particularly care for him. i can't actually remember exactly why that was - maybe just his overall attitude rubbing me the wrong way, or an incorrect presumption that he was written similarly to other unnecessarily cold noble characters.

yeah. yeah i was VERY much wrong about that. and he ended up shooting up to easily one of my favorites the moment i gained even a fraction of media literacy

i think one of my biggest changing moments for him was, miraculously, the same exact scene i'm certain a lot of other people hate(d) him for—the infamous swiss cheese-ing of finral.

primarily due to these two lines;

the first time i watched this scene, i missed it. didn't think much of it at all.

second time, i asked—who is he talking to?

the first half obviously comes from his inner dialogue and his reflection on his childhood; how his viewpoint and perspective of finral (and, in ways, the world around him) was formed.

and, given the scene's context, it can be assumed the "disappear" was directed toward finral. it was spoken the moment he raised his hand after all ... right?

unfortunately, i present: the ellipses. the unfinished sentence. the static distortion used to transition the scene.

i personally believe the line was directed at both of them, precisely because of langris' understanding of their youth.

the best terms i can think of to describe their childhood dynamic are the roles of the golden child and scapegoat child.

simply put, a "golden child" is often hailed within the household; they're excessively showered with praise and affection, and parents can even live vicariously through the child.

the flip-side of the golden child is the scapegoat—the one frequently blamed for the family's shortcomings, often talked down upon and scolded, and whose mistakes are amplified as if under a magnifying glass.

these are both forms of abuse that often go hand-in-hand. after all, a golden child won't exactly know they're the light of the house if there isn't someone else to fall, will they?

younger langris had learned, through finral, that being anything less than perfect or doing good enough by his parents meant shame. it meant disappearing in the eyes of his family. he started to look down at finral, same as them, because that's just what he was taught. finral was less than, tossed aside; his failures were what defined him.

and langris cannot let his own failures and incompetence define him. he even says it himself--he believes the reason his parents were nice to him was precisely due to how he was viewed as the competent one;

langris also further questions why finral's nice to him. why it's him, of all people. it made sense when his parents were kind — again, he was the better kid, the one who didn't consistently fall too short — but why was finral, the laughing stock of the family, nice? he hadn't any reason to be.

and why did it appear to upset langris in that scene? with the distressed frames and distortion of these memories happen after that realization?

in some way, i think finral being nice was an attack to what langris knew. threatened to redefine this understanding of "being good enough = good treatment," and may have even partly taken it as pity or similar.

finral's self-esteem isn't the greatest in the world, and my view? i don't think langris' is all that big either.

i mean, sure, he's on his high horse a portion of the time, but often narcissistic behaviors are rooted in a need for control and understanding. their heightened self-perception is fragile, and even the smallest of blows can tear that down. ... similar to what we see in this exact episode, if we disregard the whole "elven influence" portion (which i could write a whole other essay on tbh but that's not the point of this one i fear)

there's also the whole.. section on langris interpreting most people as disliking him, especially looking downcast and feeling off when he was a kid and realizing that even lady finnesse didn't particularly care for him much. and yet finral - FINRAL - was nice to him. and that likely damaged his ego more than anything, just fueled to that same bitterness he harbored years later.

hell, i'd even dare say finral's leaving could have easily been viewed as some kind of abandonment. finral confirms he and langris never fought as kids, not really, and if finral really was one of very few people who were kind to him in spite his tendency to look down on others - then how alone did langris feel after finral left?

and how suffocating did his family expectations become afterward, now that there wasn't a "set example of what NOT to be" anymore?

aannnyywho, bit of an awkward place to leave this, but it's now four in the morning and i've been on/off adding to this while speaking to family. prooobably best i put this down for now and tend to duties such as SLEEPING. if i think of more later, i'll add

toodles!

[skyward-floored]

Me: yeah when I get home from this I’ll work on that fic and post that one thing and it’ll be great—

Me the moment I get home: *face plant*

[microwavetoaster-selfships]

In relation to the doodle I just postedd........ don't mind me I'm just going to be gushing down here in the blow the under the cut.....

(Im FINE I forgot to add the little blushy lines to the drawing I just dont know what to do with my face my facial expressions range from it looks like you're watching a Thomas Sanders skit to I'm internally emoting and i have to announce it outloud just in case.)

I just. Waugh. Somehow drawing two the same height is more of a pain for me than different heights. Digital laso tool I owe you so much.

But for the gushing though. I was thinking about this so hard last night and it occasionally comes in my head, but I chronically wear jackets and hoodies all the time, particularly when I'm leaving the house. And I often of course like to have my hands in my pockets while I walk around. Especially because I always have to be doing something with my hands or else I end up doing that hand pose that I can only describe as the thing that Leni Loud always did from the Loud House because I don't know if there is a term for it. And I am such such such such a horrible sucker for the linked arms thing having arms hooked/intertwined HOWEVER YOU WANNA CALL IT. Messes me up so badly I love it so much. It's like being cuffed together but in the most sweetest way possible. Okay it's like being cuffed together but in that one BBC Sherlock episode where he and John Watson are hand-cuffed together but they're having an awkward time running together and so Watson is like "We are going to have to cordinate" and Sherlock is like "..Okay. Take my hand." And then they are running together while holding hands and there is the most gorgeous shot ever of them being out infront of a bus and. I just love it. Such a little thing but it means so much to me. It's like openly admitting you want someone to just be constantly around you and glued to you, you two can't possibly be away from one another if you two have your arms like that. One person goes to walk in one direction then the other will get tugged with, and if you both go to walk in a different direction then you just get pulled right back towards each other. It's harder to get any possibly physically closer to someone unless you two are like laying on top of each other. It's like saying "I want you here with me through this and this and this and this-". And it is such a notable look as well. You see people with their arms locked and you just know "Okay, those people are probably close to one another." and YES this is different than just having your hand on their arm this is INTERLOCKED.

Bonus points if both people both have their arms in their pockets so they are literally getting each other stuck together. I don't know why this thought gets to me so much but I almost crumbled in the grocery store yesterday. Going shopping with him and if we interlock arms then I am going to be taking up a good five to fifteen minutes of the shopping trip trying to pull myself together from it. Thank you for coming to my esssay and my art showcasing. I would like the government of England to send me my visa now, I'll mail them my passport and biometrics if I must but let me greencard my way to being a UK citizen please and thank you and I would like that under a multiplier of x2 as well please and thank you very much my cell number is 252-555-5555 I can probably relocate in the next 8-12 months depending on how getting a job goes and funding, thank you, I have phenominal potential to become a mechanic I know it because I said so and because I am stupidly passionate as this blog may indicate and I'm sure my alleged FBI agent that monitors me through my screens can also advocate I am also good with customers I have great costomer service because I am a problematic empath so I chronically give people the benefit of the doubt to typically a questionable amount and I also love to ask questions and I know the rule of thumb and agree with the rule of thumb that it is better to ask a stupid question than to outright do something stupid, I am sure I can work up many stupid questions, I unironically love British food and I can go on about that another time but please it all looks like a massive pile of comfort food I am so so okay with that and one of my favorite foods/meals that I got fixated on was out of a tin it was tinned food and I ate it till I can barely stand it anymore but I still look fondly on it now and it was almost as bad as the peanut butter incident where I had so much peanut butter that I actually gag a little at the thought of peanut butter sandwhiches or crackers because I had so much in fact I STILL do a little bi and this happened way back when I was probably like 13 or something and I have a very vivid memory of it was when during they were doing a lot of Back at The Barnyard reruns on cable TV ANYWAY I am also so very good at running my mouth, clients will ask me questions and I will not spare them from a single detail they will know every little thing in fact they will have to ask me to hush, I know my years of expereince are small but my heart is big and my passion is absurd and my potential is strong and I like to think part of me runs off of sheer willpower and determination simply because I must do what I do and I pushmyself many often to do scary things like.... well sometimes I cut off a little extra more cake than I told myself that I would but I eat it anyway even though I get worried I might explode but I never do. I am sure you are a possibly busy government but I can write longer more love letters if it so pleases yes I will be a suck-up if it helps. I am also short which means I am sligghtly smaller than your average man which means I can fit my hands into more places in car enginges. Okaty I am finished now. Sincerly yours, Kane. my last name will also be in my passport which will be given to you with my biometrics and other documents. I also accept simple easy stress-free hand-holding skilled worker visas if that is something you would like. Specifically in, Being a mecahnic. Goodnigth.

[armydreamerr]

how it feels sometimes