#imagery and pacing and stuff

[silverskye13]

Suffering The Agonies over The Character again 😔

[jungkoode]

ALTARS IN SHALLOW WATERS

➔ PAIRING: Taehyung x Y/N (ballerina x stalker AU)

➔ MOODBOARD

➔ RATING: Mature, 18+, explicit themes and content.

➔ DATE POSTED: May 01, 2025.

➔ SUMMARY: Altars crumble faster in shallow water. But he still knelt like it was sacred. No one ever warned you that worship could look like love. Or that love could look like drowning.

➔ TAGS: second person perspective, female reader, ballerina!Y/N, stalker!taehyung, obsessive devotion, psychological tension, fixation, worship dynamics, Paris setting, religious imagery, voyeurism, sacred/profane dichotomy, slow burn, touch starvation, ritualistic behavior, gradual corruption, power dynamics, mirror imagery, water symbolism, sensory details, clean/unclean fixation, contamination OCD, professional dancer, self-destructive patterns, compulsive behavior, unhealthy coping mechanisms, possessive tendencies, praise addiction, spiritual yearning, toxic attraction, dangerous adoration, self-loathing, body discipline, mental health issues, self-harm, mental deterioration, unresolved sexual tension (for now).

➔ CONTENT in this chapter: first sight, obsessive observation, ballet practice scene, initial fixation development, mirror dynamics, ritual beginnings, sensory fixation, internal monologue, self-loathing, self-discipline, cleanliness obsession, OCD, asocial/antisocial behaviors.

➔ AUTHOR’S INTRO AND TRIGGER WARNINGS

➔ MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQ | WORDCOUNT: 2.9k

➔ A/N: Before we even begin, let me say this loud and clear: This story explores dark themes, toxic dynamics, and morally fucked behavior. If that’s not your vibe or you’re in a vulnerable place right now, please prioritize your mental health and click out. I have a trigger warning + author intro linked above in pink—read it before diving in. Know what you’re getting into. Once you scroll past this note, you’re responsible for engaging thoughtfully. This is not an endorsement of anything. This story is an exploration, not a statement of belief. Don’t absorb it at face value. Think critically. Or log off. Either works. Okay now that the serious voice is out of the way—WELCOME TO ASW. Yes. We’re doing this. Yes, Taehyung. No, I don’t know why either. He just… is. This fic has been rotting in my brain like a cursed wine cellar, and he fit the flavor of psychological mess I needed. It’s the velvet-soaked, morally gray, low-light, mid-cigarette kinda vibe. And you’re invited. This isn’t a longform fic like Fuck Me Up—it’s a series, a slower, tighter pace, same chaos engine running under the hood (hi, it’s me, Kiki Nation). If you’ve read my stuff before: buckle in. If you’re new: …I swear I’ve written fluff before. Maybe. No but seriously, if you like character-driven, trauma-informed, unhinged-but-meticulous messes with literary undertones, welcome. You’ve found your swamp. Also. I beg you to listen to the ASW playlist I linked. It’s essential. Think: Paris—but not “Emily in Paris.” More like the kind of Paris where you haven’t slept in three days and your eyeliner’s smudged and some man with secrets is staring at you across a neon-lit dive bar while Edith Piaf plays from a busted speaker. That Paris.

See you on the other side. You’ve been warned.

➔ SERIES : NEXT

KIKI NATION’S DISCUSSION THREAD FOR THIS CHAPTER

PLAYLIST

Worthless.

The word sits in Taehyung's skull like a rotting tooth.

Not painful anymore—just there, decayed into the bone, a permanent fixture. Worthless. His mother's voice, twenty-something years later, still echoing.

Sometimes he imagines cutting into his brain, finding where that word lives, and scrubbing it clean. But nothing ever gets clean enough.

Paris is outside—pavement slicked with cold, the breath of a morning rain barely dried. In here, the air is flat. 

Fluorescent. 

Everything smells faintly of mop water and dying batteries. 

He exists behind the counter, with his wrists tucked close, thumbnail grinding against the seam where the plastic laminate splits. It’s not a conscious movement. The itch just collects there—under his skin, inside his jaw, everywhere his mother’s voice ever landed. 

(worthless)

The shelf by the door coughs out its contents: a can rolls, then a bottle, another bottle, a clatter that jars the pulse behind his eye. Sticky leaks on the tiles. No one looks at him—customer, manager, pink-haired girl behind the second register sketching with a dried-out pen. He’s the quiet one. The shadow. The clean-up.

He counts the droplets on the ground. One. Two. The stain widens. Beer and cola. A chemical amber, eating its way along the grout. His fingers twitch for the cheap blue rag balled up under the till. Sticky spots, dirty dots, broken thoughts. Three. Four. Five. It’s spreading. Marcel’s voice always comes before the panic does.

“Kid! Clean that shit up, come on! Clients don’t have all day.”

He sees the world in surfaces and stains. Every footprint etched in last night’s grime. Chewing gum slicked flat under a boot near the cooler. The way someone’s fingernails left half-moons in the tape over the torn cereal box. Small atrocities. He is intimately acquainted with the way filth lingers—in the cracks, yes, but also in his chest, in the language of his own hands.

He moves without thinking: rag in hand, knees bending. The bottle neck is sticky. His palm leaves a ghost on the glass—oily, ugly. 

(dirty, dirty, dirtydirtydirt)

He swears he can hear her voice; the echo that raised him sharper than any cradle song. 

He wipes too hard, more circles than necessary, like there is any chance of making the world new.

One. Two. Three. Seven. Seven. Seven again. If the number is right, the feeling dulls. 

Nothing makes it right. 

The rag soaks up sugar, cheap wheat, that thin acrid scent that reminds him of old men on metro benches. The stickiness clings to his fingers, seeping past skin and nail, as if he’s absorbing the world’s waste molecule by molecule. 

If he had a choice, he’d bleach the whole city. Himself first.

Someone steps around him—he feels the shadow before the person—a grunt, a grumble in French about the mess, about incompetence. He shrinks into the crouch. Tries to take up less space. 

Sometimes, he wonders what it would take to be truly invisible. 

Sometimes, he thinks he’s halfway there already.

(worthless) 

He doesn’t know when the word started looping. Was it, really, at two years old? Maybe three. Maybe four, when he dropped a bowl and she made him hold the shards, blood trailing into the grout as proof of his clumsiness. 

‘If you were worth anything, you’d be clean. You’d be careful. You’d be quiet and good and wanted.’

He’s quiet. He’s careful. He’s so good at disappearing he startles himself when Marcel barks his name—the only time he hears it, sandpapered into a reprimand. 

Sometimes the sound of it makes him nauseous.

He presses the rag into the floor. Bleach sting in the back of his throat. Nails scrub until knuckles ache, the line between diligent and desperate lost years ago. He likes this better than standing—the way knees grind bone against bone, the ache that says he’s solid, present, here. 

It almost feels like penance.

He glances up—Sophie sketches him again, glancing once, twice, pausing on the curl of his neck. He will become a line in her notebook, a story she tells at parties, a tragic fixture in the background of her real life. He hates that he has thoughts about being observed. If anyone really saw, they’d peel back layers until nothing was left but the word. 

(worthless)

The store’s radio coughs static. Some old pop song limping its way through a broken speaker. The world blurs at the edges—what is Paris, if not concrete and piss and distant sunlight, leaking slowly across linoleum? He wishes the tiles here would just dissolve. 

Wishes his skin would too.

He wrings the rag out in the bucket, watches beer foam swirl with grime down the cheap plastic drain. His hands are pink, raw, stained with the same feeling that never quite leaves. His fingertips burn. Sometimes they bleed. That’s good. 

Pain is clean. Pain is honest.

Marcel doesn’t say thank you. Doesn’t look at him. Sophie tucks her drawing away, eyes flickering elsewhere. Taehyung straightens, wipes his palms on his trousers, and returns to the counter. He exists to erase.

Counting in his head—seven steps to the end of the aisle. Seven minutes until the shift ends. Seven letters in the nine his mother wrote under his skin:

Worthless.

Sometimes he thinks it’s the only word he’ll ever earn.

And outside, the city is gray. Inside, he is nothing. Inside, he is clean.

(For a moment. For seven counts. That’s all.)

The water makes patterns like fractured light.

His shift ends like they always do—uneventful, almost unregistered in the library of his mind. 

Paris is set in a brooding mood, rain stalking down the windows carelessly. Taehyung watches each droplet make its slow descent, leaving dirty trails on the glass he'd scrubbed this morning. 

Seven hours ago. The bleach has worn off. Everything wears off eventually.

He'll have to clean the windows before going home. Marcel doesn't really care. Clean windows mean cleaner space. Cleaner space is good for Marcel's business. Or its reputation at least. Not that Taehyung cares about reputation or lack thereof, he just needs to quiet down the bubbling pressure that builds in his chest when the water droplets remove the bleach he's injected into the glass this morning.

The streak marks form constellations he doesn't know the names of. Names have never mattered much to him. Except when they belong to ghosts.

(worthlessworthlessworthless)

The register drawer sticks when he pulls it, a metallic scrape that makes his molars ache. He counts the bills by sevens—one, two, three, four, five, six, seven. Again. Again. The rhythm is comforting, like a metronome he can set his pulse to. His fingers leave no prints on the paper. He's careful about that. So careful.

Sophie comes by his counter, as she usually does at this time. Her hair is wet at the ends, dripping onto her shoulders. The moisture makes him twitch. He knows the pattern, knows how her hand raises to pat him in the shoulder, so he moves. Just lightly. A shift to the left. His body tilting away from contact like a plant bending from shadow.

She notices. She always notices. But she never says anything about it.

"Marcel left early," she says, tapping her pen against her lower lip. "Something about his daughter's recital. You know how he gets about that little prodigy of his."

Taehyung doesn't respond. He doesn't know what it's like to have a father proud enough to leave work early. He doesn't know what it's like to have someone watch you with anything but disappointment.

Sophie sighs into the silence. The sound scrapes against his eardrums. He counts the register one more time, even though the numbers are perfect. They're always perfect. He makes sure of it.

"You should really come to the dinner tonight. Would do some good for you to socialize," she says with a grin that shows too many teeth. 

Her lipstick is smudged at the corner. Imperfect. He wants to hand her a tissue but his hands stay where they are, counting, ordering, fixing what isn't broken.

He doesn't blame her for trying. He doesn't blame her for the invitation that comes every Friday, the same words in slightly different arrangements. He doesn't blame her for not understanding that socializing feels like drowning with an audience.

Taehyung doesn't respond, simply nods. He's learned the minimum requirements for human interaction. Nod. Blink. Breathe. Exist without being noticed.

She sighs, signals two fingers over her forehead as she exits the store, all while saying, "Don't stay too late, and close before you leave!"

Taehyung didn't need the reminder. He always checks seven times before he leaves, that the door is closed. 

Sophie knows. He knows she knows. He still doesn't say a word, just nods. Then, Sophie is gone.

Solitude, at last. 

Empty store, peace restored.

His fingers move to the cloth under the register. It's damp from earlier, beer and soda and whatever else the world tracked in. He should get a fresh one. Clean things with clean tools. His mother taught him that, at least, between the lessons about worthlessness.

The rain comes down harder now, drumming against the glass. The windows will need extra attention. He can already feel the itch building under his skin, the need to make everything spotless before he leaves. Before he walks through the rain and into his apartment, where everything is already clean but never clean enough.

He moves methodically. Counts each step. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven. Again. The mop bucket rattles as he pulls it from the back room. Water sloshes against plastic sides. He measures the bleach precisely. One cap. Two caps. The smell burns his nostrils, familiar and comforting. It smells like absolution.

The store is empty now. Just him and the endless task of erasing evidence that anyone was ever here. He likes it this way. Prefers it. People leave messes. People notice things. People try to touch his shoulder and invite him to dinners where he would have to speak and be seen and remembered.

No one remembers the person who cleans up after them. That's the beauty of it.

The mop makes wet streaks across the floor. He counts each stroke. Seven in one direction. Seven in the other. The pattern matters. The rhythm matters. If he gets it wrong, something terrible might happen. He doesn't know what. He just knows the fear tastes like metal at the back of his throat.

The windows come last. He saves them because they're the worst. Because they connect inside to outside. Because they're never truly clean, no matter how hard he scrubs.

He sprays the glass, watches the solution drip down in rivulets that mirror the rain on the other side. Seven sprays. Seven wipes. Seven circles clockwise, seven counterclockwise. The ritual matters. The counting matters.

When he's done, the store gleams under the harsh lights. No evidence that anyone has been here. No evidence that he exists at all, except in the absence of dirt.

Then, a sound.

 It comes from behind the door nobody opens.

Not the storeroom where Marcel keeps the cigarettes he thinks no one knows about, not the employee bathroom with its perpetually damp floor—the other one. The abandoned space where even Marcel refuses to go.

Taehyung freezes mid-wipe, cloth suspended against glass. The sound isn't loud. Just different. A disruption in the pattern of silence he's grown accustomed to.

He finishes the seventh circle, completing the ritual. Can't leave it unfinished. Bad things happen when rituals break. His mother taught him that—one of the few lessons that wasn't delivered with a slap or that word.

(worthless)

The sound comes again. Not a crash or a thud, but something lighter. A scrape, perhaps. The shuffle of something being moved after years of stillness.

His bleach bottle is nearly empty. The level has dropped below the label, and the thought of finishing his cleaning without it makes his chest cave inward. The supply closet—the forbidden one—holds what he needs. Marcel put the cleaning supplies there because no one else wants them. Because Taehyung is the only one who uses them. Because Marcel knows he'll go, no matter how much it terrifies him.

The handle feels wrong under his palm. Not cold or hot, but somehow both. The metal leaves an impression on his skin that he'll need to scrub away later. Seven times. With soap that smells like nothing.

The door creaks—not dramatically like in films, but with the quiet protest of hinges that have forgotten their purpose. The smell hits him first: dust and mildew, ancient paper, and something underneath it all that reminds him of childhood. 

Not his childhood—someone else's. Someone who was allowed to be happy.

Taehyung doesn't step fully inside. He hovers at the threshold, one foot in darkness, one in light. Liminal. The word appears in his head unbidden. He knows it from somewhere. A book, maybe. Something he read in the quiet hours when sleep refused to come.

The bleach is stacked against the far wall. Seven bottles. Always seven. Marcel orders them in sevens now without being asked. It's the only kindness Taehyung has ever noticed from the man.

He'll have to cross the room to get there. Step fully into the space that feels wrong. 

His skin prickles with contamination.

One step. The floor creaks.

Two. Dust motes dance in what little light filters through a grimy window.

Three. His breathing shallows.

Four. The sound comes again, clearer now. Not from this room, but beyond it.

Five. His hand twitches at his side, wanting to count on fingers but knowing better. Counting out loud is for children. Counting visibly is for the insane.

Six. He sees the wall isn't solid. There's glass embedded in it, cloudy with years of neglect.

Seven. He stops, right where he needs to be. The bottles wait, patient as saints.

He crouches, careful not to let his knees touch the floor. It's filthy here. Beyond salvaging. The kind of dirty that lives in the bones of a place, too deep for even bleach to reach. He imagines gutting the room—tearing out floorboards, scraping walls down to bare structure, burning it all and starting fresh. The fantasy calms him enough to grab a bottle.

That's when the melody starts.

Piano notes, distant but clear. A practice scale, then something more complex. The music doesn't filter through the wall—it seems to emerge from it, as if the plaster itself remembers a tune.

Taehyung stands, bottle clutched to his chest. His eyes find the glass panel naturally, drawn by the sound. It's a mirror, he realizes. Or it was meant to be. Years of grime have turned it into a cloudy barrier between this space and whatever lies beyond.

Curiosity is dangerous. His mother taught him that too. But the music pulls at something in him—a thread he didn't know was loose.

He approaches the glass, steps measured in sevens. The closer he gets, the clearer the sound becomes. Not just piano now. There's movement.

Without thinking, he raises his free hand—the one not clutching bleach like a lifeline—and wipes a small circle in the grime. The action is so automatic, so ingrained, that he doesn't register the contamination until it's done. 

His palm is gray with dust. He'll need to wash it. Scrub it. Make it clean again.

But then he sees through the cleared space, and everything else falls away.

The room beyond isn't abandoned. It's alive with light—not the harsh fluorescence of the convenience store, but something softer. Golden. The floors are wood, worn but cared for. Barres line the walls. A practice room.

And in its center, a figure moves.

You don’t dance to the piano. 

You are the music. 

(worthyworthyworthy)

Your body creates shapes he doesn't have names for. Arcs and lines that make his breath catch.

Taehyung doesn't know ballet. Doesn't know dance at all. But he knows beauty when he sees it. Knows holiness. Recognizes glory.

The glass, he realizes, isn't just dirty. It's one-way. A mirror on your side, a window on his. You can't see him watching. Don’t know you’re being witnessed.

The knowledge makes him feel profane. He shouldn't be here. Shouldn't be seeing this. It's too intimate, too sacred for someone like him.

(worthless)

But he can't look away.

Your hair is pulled back, severe and perfect. No strand out of place. Your leotard (is that the word? he thinks it might be) clings to a form that seems impossible—all angles and curves existing together in defiance of what bodies should be able to do.

When you turn, your face catches light. Features like a doll. But your gaze is nothing like that. Eyes focused on nothing but your reflection. On perfection. On control.

You are everything he is not.

Clean. 

Worthy.

Then, a series of turns that make his head spin just watching. You’re counting, he realizes. Your lips move slightly with each rotation. One, two, three... he can't tell how high you go. Can't follow the complexity of it.

The bleach bottle is cold against his chest. His palm still dirty. His breath fogging the small clear spot he's made in the glass.

He should leave. Should run. Should take his bleach and go back to his world of sticky floors and meaningless tasks. Should never come back here again.

But even as he thinks it, he knows he will. Knows that he'll return tomorrow, like he has to now. And the day after. And every day the store is open. Just to stand in this filthy room he can't bear to be in. Just to watch you move like water, like air.

Like everything pure in a world of contamination.

goal: 150 notes.

taglist: @cannotalwaysbenight @taevescence @itstoastsworld @somehowukook @stutixmaru @chloepiccoliniii @kimnamjoonmiddletoe @annyeongbitch7 @mar-lo-pap @mikrokookiex @minniejim @curse-of-art @cristy-101 @mellyyyyyyx @rpwprpwprpwprw

© jungkoode 2025. | banners and dividers by dailynnt

no reposts, translations, or adaptations

[mostly-imagines]

🌻 anon here

The last few days I stumbled into a few posts about Jason having +18 pics of reader in his phone and I just can't stop thinking "would he tho??" Like would he trust enough his device to have r18 pictures of the one he love and literally worship in his phone??? Knowing he knows damn well how easy it is nowadays to get those types of pictures through hack and stuff??

And I'm not saying he would share the pics, HELL NO he would never. But because I don't think he would trust his phone -and also because it cracks me up- I imagine him having a Polaroid to take the pics. The photos get printed automatically and if he have to he can't literally burn those without having to overthink about someone hacking his phone.

Like can you imagine him just casually take a Polaroid you didn't know where there out his nightstand and taking a pics of you while you reaching your peak??

Anyways all of that just to ask what one of my fav Jason writers would think about the whole Jason having spicy pics of you in this phone

18+

i’ve honest to god been thinking about this non stop since you sent it sunny

i think you're dead on, jason's protective streak rings too loud in his mind to ever take the chance of someone else maybe seeing those photos of you. personally, i’m of the belief that he uses his phone for the most practical purposes only and that his photo gallery is borderline empty, with few exceptions of nondescript images. like the only pictures of you on his phone don’t show your face or any revealing information about you. yeah, he’s a little paranoid in that way but it just makes his alternative that much more interesting.

there’s also something about it that feels more personal, more intimate. there’s not a chance in hell those photos are going near another person and he likes the idea that you’re giving him this amount of vulnerability and trust.

i also think he is an avid supporter of your personal autonomy and feels better knowing that if you want a picture gone, all you have to do is burn it and it's gone forever. he doesn't really like the idea that so many things on electronics can be spread or seen without you even knowing, so he's perfectly fine to stash a few polaroids in unsuspecting places.

he’d be really hesitant to ask you the first time, he was worried he’d make you uncomfortable or that you’d think it was weird. the thought initially came about after he’d gone on an away mission that lasted twice as long as it was supposed to and he was bordering on losing it without a single image of you. that, and frankly, he was stressed and he has never experienced a stress relief quite like you.

so the night he comes back he’s kissing you hard and rubbing up against you, but all he can think about is how badly he wants to capture all your facial expressions and imagery he couldn’t stop imagining while he was gone.

he breaks away from your lips breathlessly, “can I take a picture of you?”

you give him a bemused look, “what? like, now?”

he fiddles with the waistband of your underwear, not making eye contact. “well…in a few minutes..”

his timorous disposition gives you a solid clue of what he means and you smile up at him. “yeah?”

he finally meets your eyes, looking hopeful. “is that alright?”

“of course,” you nod and he leans back down against you, lips meeting your pulse point. “what brought this on?”

he noses at your neck, “jus’ missed you. a lot.”

you nod, pulling back and running a finger down to the tip of his nose. “take as many as you want.”

and he did.

his favorite pics are the ones he takes right when you cum, lips slightly parted, brow pinched. he’s also fond of the moments right when you’re just starting to feel it.

the photos of you on your knees, trying to take him in your mouth as much as you can really do something to him. your eyes watering and you holding his hand for support. he has to pace himself when he looks at those, especially the ones where you’re looking up at the camera.

he doesn’t usually like to be in the pictures, other than his dick in/against you or his hand splayed across your stomach or neck. he also has one or two where you’re riding him and his free hand is on your hip guiding you.

you’d have to be having a particular kind of sex for it to even occur to him to stop and take pictures. it only really happens during the easy times, when you’re both just having fun more than anything. it’s then when he’s really able to take his time with you and savor things, which is why the majority of your polaroids are taken then. he’s also more likely to be in a teasing mood then and not in a particular rush to get you where you’re going. a lot of those pictures show you smiling and completely relaxed which is another reason why he tends to revere those moments.

a grade A way to make him feel better after a long week is leaving him some surprise polaroids in the stash, it makes him crazy. he’s honestly just really obsessed with the idea that you trust him so much with those kinds of photos that you’d go out of your way to take some for him when he’s not even there. i actually think that’s at least half of what turns him on so much about the whole thing, the trust that you place in him and only him to not only see you in those moments but also relive them afterwards. just pics of you in lingerie or even just one of his shirts—it’s over for him.

[skulkingfoxes]

A post-mortem of "Good Morning, Rose"

A few weeks ago, I posted my addition to the comic anthology GLIMM*R, a short comic called "Good Morning, Rose".

The reaction to it has been so uplifting and exciting. It really seemed to struck a cord with people, which, really, the best thing for me to hear as a creator. I absolutely love writing and making short comics, you can do much with so little, explore such interesting stories. The feedback I've gotten has been very heartwarming! It makes me want to explore short stories even more!

But, first, I want to talk about some of my feelings and about the process of making "Good Morning, Rose". This got a bit long, so you'll have to indulge me a bit. You should also read the comic first before reading this. Don't worry, it's only 8 pages.

Now the preamble is out of the way, lets go back to the beginning.

The idea of "Good Morning, Rose" was a nugget in my brain for a long time! Originally it was actually from the Dreamwalker's point of view, where she was a faceless entity who had a long term relationship with Rose and was trying to figure out how to explain that their relationships only were in Rose's dreams. It was a story about seeing, accepting, and loving each other truly and fully, and the trials and tribulations of getting there. Also a cute girl with an ancient eldrich being is always fun to explore.

A lot of it was too convoluted, emotionally and storywise. It also required to get into what the Dreamwalker actually was, which I ended up really not liking. So, ultimately, the idea didn't work, and I put it down. I ended up going to do my short comic Twigs instead.

When I was invited into the wlw anthology GLIMM*R and was told that the theme was "dreams", I decided to take another stab at the concept. This time, I inverted the pov, it's now Rose's story. And instead of a long term relationship, it was about the powerful first feeling of a perfect (maybe even too perfect?) first date.

One of the hardest thing to write in romance is getting readers to care about the relationship in the first place. To have the readers believe in the character's feeling, to be invested in their romance. This is even harder to do when you only have 8 pages to do it. Focusing it around a first date helped a lot in that case. There I'm not trying to sell that these two character will love each other forever and forever, just the fluttering first butterflies of realizing you're developing feeling for someone. It's why I leave it so open-ended about whether the two of them meet again at the end of the comic, or even if it was real in the first place. It's just not the point of the story.

That's something important about writing short stories, I find. You really have to hone in on an idea, on a thought. Take a simple idea and try to find all of the interesting layers. It's too easy to try to stuff a short story with too many ideas that ultimately go unfulfilled. In fact, the first draft of the comic, at the time called "Dream Date", there was a big problem with this and the pacing.

Here, take a look at the first stab at the roughs:

(BTW, there is something so fun about roughs for me lol. The art is so kinetic and loose, all about just getting the story across)/

As you can see, a lot of the ideas and imagery made to the final version of the comic. But both the initial readers and I agreed that the beginning and end were good, but the middle was messy and slowed things down. You can also see that I got stuck in the same problem I did when I first conceived of the story, it's bogged down trying to understand the Dreamwalker in a way that actually hurts the story. You simply dont have any room for bad pacing a short comic like this. I need to focus more on the character's and their emotions and exploring their actual relationship rather than blandly trying to explain the situation. A friend also suggested that I should hone in on the fluid dream-like aspects of the first couple of pages, especially since it's so fun to explore in the medium of comics. So I got to work gutting it out and trying again with the new, much stronger imo, direction.

Also there were some issues with the page format that needed changes for printing, thus the final spread had to be split up. Which is a shame, but oh well, it still works. I also honed in a lot more on Rose and her insecurities. I ended up putting a lot of myself into Rose. I'm glad readers seems to able to relate to her.

After figuring out the the story and the pacing, I went and, well, made the comic. Once you've done as many comic pages I have at this point, once you figure out a process, the actual drawing is fairly straightforward. Eventually, after thinking, and drawing, and toiling, and revising, and thinking hard about my life choices, I come out of the other end of the tunnel with a comic. One that I ended up really liking. One that other people ended up liking, which is always crazy to me.

I got a lot of interesting reactions to the comic. One demographic thinking it was sweet, wanting more of it (always a flattering thought), and enjoying the romance. Other remarking on the bittersweetness of it all, finding your soulmate in a dream, maybe never to see them again if they were even real in the first place. There were a lot of people remarking how they had a similar dream, one where they met someone they seemed totally and completely convinced that they were real and told the dreamer so, until the dreamer woke up. There was one person who asked if I had met the dreamwalker myself. Alas, my dreams are not this romantic and straightforward.

But all of us can hold hands, nod at each other, united by one universally true statement: big eldritch lady hot.

There's a lot of little bits I can talk about, like how Rose's dress is actively modeled after selkie dresses because I think they're cute, or some other trials and tribulations. But I think I've finished all I have had to say. I hope you enjoyed this and will stick around for my future projects! I definitely want to explore more short stories in the next year, especially as I am illustrating big graphic novels for my day job and don't have the time or energy for huge projects.

Till then, thank you so much! Happy holidays and have a good new year!

[communistkenobi]

I’ve watched the first three Mission Impossible movies now and it’s crazy how they’re all completely different films from one another lol. which probably has to do with the fact that they all had radically different directors (Brian de Palma, John Woo, JJ Abrahams), but the only real consistent through line is Tom Cruise. Because even within the ten year time-span between their releases, the series is already unrecognisable from itself

The first one is a 1990s genre-defining heist spy movie and its concerns are very much rooted in the fact that the CIA is now basically this massive institutional leftover of the Cold War with many hanging threads that need to be dealt with (one of the main McGuffins being a list of names of undercover CIA agents scattered throughout ‘Eastern Europe’). When I first watched it I thought it was pretty good but not like great, but after having watched two of its sequels and thought about it some more I’m a lot more positive on it. The imagery of that movie is unforgettable, the highlight being the completely silent scene where Tom Cruise hangs from a wire in an all-white room trying desperately not to touch the floor. It’s crazy that de Palma directed this and Carrie and Scarface, all films with scenes permanently lodged into the cultural consciousness. And like it is a distinctly ‘cool’ movie, but not in the insane rabid jarhead post-9/11 action movie cool way, like there isn’t this fascistic military masculinity grafted onto it, its way more sleek genius spy guy shit. Anyway this one is really good.

The second movie is pretty bad and often barely comprehensible, like the scene-to-scene editing is hard to follow and the pacing is horrible. The experience of watching it is like watching Face-Off (another John Woo movie), like same weird ass vibe and editing except in this case the movie is boring and bad. Some of the stunts are pretty cool but they can’t really rise above the film they take place in. It’s also not a spy movie, it’s just a bad action movie. I feel like MI2’s biggest crime is trivialising Tom Cruise, like he has no presence or command in that film at all, he’s literally just a random guy with long hair. It’s insane the immediate drop in quality. This one is about a bio-engineered virus that the villains want to use to start a pandemic, but the concern feels very far away and immaterial ? Idk I really didn’t like this one

And then the third one is also just as bizarre because it looks and sounds and is written exactly like a Michael Bay film, down to the same vibrant ugly orange-blue colour palette and quippy dialogue and saccharine ending. And it’s also not a spy movie either lmao!!!! Like god the jump in representation of US intelligence agencies from 1996 to 2006 is staggering, it’s moved from using fantastical spy gadgets to very real military hardware and technology, only keeping the spy-magic tech in MI3 (like 3D printing the villain’s face as a mask disguise) because it was already established in the first one. And the action scenes are straightforwardly action scenes, shootouts with military helicopters and dodging precision drone strikes. Tom Cruise does an insane amount of running in this movie and it looks sooooo good, like there are so many long-ass shots of him just fucking booking it at full speed and that dude’s running form was made to be captured on film. But MI3 is like so deeply entrenched in Bush era catch-the-terrorists stuff, though somewhat offset by having Philip Seymour Hoffman as the main villain instead of like Al-Qaeda (although the main anxiety has still firmly shifted from a post-Soviet ‘Eastern Europe’ to a scary generalised terrorist ‘Middle East’). But again it feels so incredibly different in tone and fixation and motivation than the first film. 9/11 really did permanently break the brains of every USAmerican. Anyway I can’t wait to watch the next one

[meirimerens]

Do you have recommendations on reading sth more experimental? 👀

fair warning a lot of the experimental shit i've read i've read in art school context so i have no idea if the classmates who made it published it somewhere + it is kinda hard to recommend experimental shit by virtue of it being experimental so i'm going to rec stuff that i consider like. "mainstream" experimental as in yeah an author wrote this. also the "actually unconventional" bar is pretty low starting from the stuff i was moaning about so well also ☝ love pushing upon people books i've read + i know for a fact i've pushed them before lollll so

mainstream as it goes: House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski. like you know?

unconventional in essence through shape. it is one book of ergodic literature and if you dig into ergodic literature you will find unconventionality that's kinda Its Thing. i understand by standards for "unconventional prose/pacing" get pretty high once you've put your eyes on this but like. i got more conventional in shape that still are unconventional in prose of pacing.

still mainstream-ish? if you're French? she was an author well-known and important in her time and place (she's still alive it's just that she was important as an author of the literary feminist wave in the 60s & 70s), Anankè by Hélène Cixous. i've read it in french and have no idea how it fares in english (or translated otherwise) but if you want unconventional pacing and prose you're getting unconventional pacing and prose. it is full to the brim with homonyms (hence why idk how it fares in english), of subject-to-attribute uncouplings (a verb conjugated for "I", a subject as "she"), words straight up made the fuck up through homonymy (like "téléfaune", from téléphone and faune [faun/satyr]). some sentences are 2 full pages long, reading them feels like trying to ride out an engine startle. it has no plot, it is about an internal trip, a self-actualization from girl to woman, or from chaperoned woman to free woman. you don't read this for plot, you read this to feel like you've traveled with your head through the open window, and for the imagery, god the imagery i find so very great. unlikely associations, quite sensorial. it's a short book but i've needed multiple tries to get through it because, as i've said, the long sentences feel like trying to hold onto a hand-cranked engine start. the pacing feels cyclical, like an endless stop and start, expressing the internal conflict. you have to hold onto it.

mainstream-ish again if you're french, Le Corps Lesbien [The Lesbian Body] by Monique Wittig. it's one of those where if you're not on that crazy shit you're gonna get yucked, it is endlessly violent in grotesque ways that make you horribly aware of all the anatomical details of your body. it alternates horrible and grotesque neverending violence with horrible and grotesque neverending tenderness (& sometimes neverending tenderness in/through grotesque violence or vice-versa). another one of those where the english translation cannot truly do it justice because french has "elles [female plural they]" and "ils [male plural they]" and wittig goes out of her way to never use ils [french has "masculine as default" grammatical gender]. in the french text, "je" (subject "I") is cleaved in twain: "j/e". In english, they've just italicized it; i think they'd have done well to use something like the polish ł to figure it. anyways barely a plot either. cyclical destruction in grotesque ways that both are anatomical impossible and yet horrifyingly anatomically-anchored. re:the violence in this i'm sure if you've read like. "extreme horror" novels by whichever male author of the month it is you probably won't flinch but i've read this after a long streak of nonfiction & poetry.

i think a bit less mainstream because i've been told about it in art school lol after i had partaken in a collective performance and my stuff had for base a poem about a roadkill that neverendingly dies then is reborn only to die again anyways Jaguar Harmonics by Anne Waldman. closer to poems than literature-in-prose (even if it is in prose instead of rhyme) it is about/from the yagé (ayahuasca) ritual by waldman, poet & buddhist & activist who brings in the text a lot of subjects and themes (the anthropocene, colonization, environmental and feminist concerns,...). it is poetry, so technicallyyyyyyy unconventional by nature as far as literature goes, + spoken poetry at that, i know for a fact there is a bandcamp where you can listen to the poems spoken/sung.

what else. since i'm on the topic of poetry check out Guillaume Apollinaire's Calligrammes i guess

you'll hate me for bringing it up again + it's poetry also againnnn LOL but The Oresteia as transladaptated by Tony Harrison. i find it's great english it uses words that brother i've never seen used. and i loooooove a made-up compound word the people know this about me. let's liven this shit up let's make words up!

French has l'Oulipo ("Ouvroir de littérature potentielle", "opener of potential literature") with representatives such as Raymond Queneau who made a book of poems that looks like this

OH AND HE MADE "EXERCISES DE STYLE" which i quite like also (99 times the same story written with different stylistic/literary constraints)

[braaan]

HOLID-AMA ANSWERS!

OR: QUESTIONS AND BRAN-SWERS

Thank you to everyone who submitted an ask! These were very, very fun to do, and overwhelmingly flattering. I'd like to do more of these very soon :)

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On writing

@kooyabooya asks: what made you want to start writing about kpop ggs in the first place (this could aka what inspires you to write in terms of dynamics, tone, prose, imagery, etc etc...)

Hi Koo! Thank you for the question! :-) I think – like you’re indicating – there’s a couple of parts to this:

(1) and most inherently: COVID changed me. I went from legitimately adverse to kpop to perusing the genre to #ONCE Forever in maybe 6 months LOL. I seriously blame the physically disgusting amount of League I was playing (there was a player on ladder who always shit on me with Dahyun as their ID) but more realistically think it was just fandom at work! I wanted more content eventually, and it didn’t take me long to stumble onto the kpop-latent writersphere.

(2) Neatly from above: I think the kpop-latent writersphere is one of the most rich and rife communities out there; to a sizable degree: I write because of you! I am surrounded by great writers, am always reading something that is funky and/or makes me feel some type of way every month, and I think because of that, have similar stories to tell!

The Hyewon was my first piece of smut, longform, evocative writing (everything in between, really), and I credit all of that to the community. As long as you continue to enjoy my stuff, push the bar yourself, and re-invest in the space along the way, I think I’ll be here for a while!

(3) Bong Joon Ho says something to the effect of art needing to scare you. I believe in this so viscerally, and think it’s why I fundamentally write so… annoyingly descriptive… recursively metaphorical… pithy? I think I spend a lot of time understanding a character in and out; I’ll always have a Weverse Live going on when I’m writing — just to catch the quirks — because I really want you to believe that, even for a moment, what you’re reading is real. I think parasocialism can lend itself to a hauntingly beautiful form of want, and to me, if I can tell a story so true to life that it lingers — leaves a lasting impression on you that makes you feel something, even if just for a moment — that is awesome.

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@fuckkkkkklol asks: do you have ways to push through writer’s block and/or executive dysfunction when it comes to creative things (including but not limited to writing)? if yes gimme your best ones 

@majorblinks asks: tips for overcoming heinous & debilitating writer's block (asking for a friend not me)

Hi Miggy, hiiiiii major ^_^, and hi major's friend! I think my very unqualified advice here doesn’t stray far from: be bored and don’t do what you don’t want.

Above is just a screenshot-worthy sneak peek of what my current drafts look like — the slate totals up to maybe ~15 pieces that I’ve worked on on and off, and though are in many states, all of them unfinished. The haunting voice in the back of my head hates this: that I have so many drafts that I should finish, that I must go back and put out all of these stories, that I have an obligation to do these things… but the better part of me knows that is contradictory.

Creation is iteration — when @capslocked wants to be smart, he has a sweet turn of phrase that goes “writing is rewriting” — and I think it’s fundamentally inconsequential to have to create.

Get words out of your system, play around with an idea for a timeframe, get bored of it, chase a new premise that you start a completely different draft for, then do it over again — eventually, to me, this ends up coalescing to something that I can put out: I’m ALWAYS looking back at drafts and exercises to Frankenstein them into other pieces (“I really liked this pacing from here” … “Ooh, and then this metaphor I think sits nicely with this other one” … Eunseo was a combination of lots of unrelated drafts before it).

Also: you are so opinionated! Reading something, I form an opinion almost immediately of a writing voice: what I don’t like, what I do, and how I’d do an idea myself. I think this instinctive editorial motion is great when applied to the above exercise: I’ll start a new doc in the direct middle of a one-shot, riff off something I saw somewhere else, or just play with a metaphor that I really really like — none of these are ever intentional of a story I’ll write, but I do think it continues to keep writing instinctive and, like above, almost always becomes recycled into something that eventually does make it out.

In short, I think the remedy to writer’s block is time, and continuing to nurture the muscle is what makes overcoming the hurdle easier and easier when you inevitably come back to it. To me, any hacks, additional fire under your ass, or other things to speed up the process are inconducive of actual Craft, and most likely do not let you enjoy doing what you initially set out to!

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@kesujo asks: Every writer's writing style is inspired by his/her favorite writers, which may even change as they discover new writers. Has this ever happened to you, where you noticed your writing style change, or you pick up some stuff from new writers you've discovered? And, if you were to say the top 5 influences to your current writing style (doesn't have to be in order), who would they be, and what about their writing style did you like the most that you picked up from this writer?

Oh yeah, like I mentioned, I’m very new to the space (and this voice of writing in general), so I’m definitely always :notee:-ing. 

I’m not reading enough these days, and if I am, it really is strategy-latent nonfiction, but for here:

@yieldtotemptation easily has the most fun-laced voice and ideas ��� we could be several thousand words deep into an otherwise raunchy piece, and I'd still find myself putting my phone down to laugh at a disarming line of dialogue or perfectly packaged, real-life metaphor. Gray has inadvertently taught me a lot about having fun with my stuff, and I think I'm trying to take myself less seriously because of them!

@majorblinks is my blueprint, and genuinely, viscerally, in-real-life annoys me. Completely straight: I think Major is the bar for storytelling. We're both on the same wavelength when it comes to the stories we'd like to try, but only one of us has gone out and done it (see: DOWNRIGHT ICONIC), and I think that makes all of the difference. I'll spare you the brainworm: there's writing for writing's sake, and then there's writing with a purpose. DOWNRIGHT ICONIC as an example is a fundamentally masterful understanding of how smut and its readers work as a vehicle**, and I think everyone would benefit by taking a sliver of Craft that it literally oozes out.

@capslocked is a pioneer of many, many things in this space, but I think doesn't get enough credit for how technically crafty he is. My drafts are guilty of overusing "And" to start new sequences, and it's not until I've re-read a Caps piece that I go back and fix them. Caps has an expertly-crafted, seriously refreshing style of paragraphing, structure and usage that I'm always looking to for inspiration, and easily is the writer that dumbfounds me the most with how rudimentary / fundamental his phrasing feels — it's always a mix of "oh wow!" and "of course!" if that makes sense!

** Alex Cornell has a fantastic, 25-minute talk about Idea Vessels (here) that touches on this

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Anonymous asks: Hello Bran, just wanna say I love your fics and writing style. Wondering if you have any upcoming fics that your currently working on?

Anonymous asks: Curious on any upcoming fics? 

Hi very, very kind Anons! I have two in the slow cooker that I'd really like to see come out. Sneak peeks at both of them below!

(1) is this Julie piece from last summer that I put on pause. There was a week where I put on Mother (Letterboxd), Perfect Days (Letterboxd), and Shoplifters (Letterboxd) on back to back to back, and this came from that!

There's something about noir and darker themes that I think expert directors understand lend themselves well to the one long take that feels more and more intrusive as it stays on a character / scene, for example, and this piece really tries to encapsulate that into writing.

It's a more condescending and smartass character compared to what I'm used to, and the draft for it sits squarely on top of the framing that idol Julie becomes Oedipus Rex. Written in the style of a tragedy, rife with callbacks to Greek Classics; could be really sexy.

(2) is a Chaeryeong piece that I tried to put out for @passingnotions.

It's legitimately some of the raunchiest stuff I've written, and all sits on the premise that you haven't seen gross yet — I have each of the seven deadly sins in the document LOL; I genuinely always feel guilty when I re-read some of the stuff in here...

(bran pure bran pure bran pure)

On not writing

@octoberautumnbox asks: pls also get nachos on the next milk run and a flavor ice cream you'd rate 6/10

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@majorblinks asks: r we twin flames yes or no

:fishh:

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@kooyabooya asks: the last song you listened to on your spotify?

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@avenger7567 asks: Do you think WJSN will ever return again?

I cannot imagine that it will be the same iteration of WJSN if they do, but I think (and hope) so — the socials are decently active, and will 100% be a gimme for headlines!

It's truly such a sonic loss! I'll find the time to put it into words one of these days, but I really think underdog-y, just under the surface energy is what leads to experimentation within any genre. Music is trendy, and kpop is no stranger of the "regression to the popular grey" — groups like WJSN who don't have enough clout to conform must zag... and then you get shit like Last Sequence.

VIVIZ, NMIXX, RESCENE (here and here), and Billlie play this game very well + keep me sated in the interim! WJSN 2030 comeback :')

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@majorblinks asks: whats ur most recently read book & how many stars would u give it out of 5

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@friskyriskywhisky asks: Nice to see you on Tumblr again!😊 How are you doing so far? What is the most attractive thing an idol has once said? If you can only watch only one idol's live-stream for a whole year, who would it be?

Most importantly: SANA CLAUS is gonna get robbed by one female idol. Who's it gonna be and are you going to warn Santa?

(1) Always good! It's been a crazy start to the year, but I feel like I've always been legitimately blessed :-)

(2) HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

(3) Probably Luda (WJSN)!

I'm not a big livestream consumer, but I do notice that a lot of groups where the majority of them are adults tend to have more fun ones. For another time, but I think there's less media criticism inherently of what you are and aren't allowed to say when you're "an adult", and so these livestreams do feel a little less... sterile?

The last Luda stream I watched, I remember there being a sequence where she legitimately spent 2 minutes making fun of a fan comment because they commented that they were single LOL

(4 AND MOST IMPORTANTLY) step bro i'm stuck in the Sana multiverse and if you even remotely think about trying to get me out i will absolutely end u

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@kooyabooya asks: what is your spirit animal or pokemon (if you have one by chance) 

LOL can you guess:

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@majorblinks asks: give me like 3 of ur new year's resolutions . what r we getting up to in 2025

I need to crack open the journal and really Reflect to get them down down..... but I think will largely stem from the same place of having a better relationship w work and the things I do...

Long pause moment in recent memory came from a conversation I had with some friends — among many tidbits: "I want complete control over something ... and then will want control of my control" + "where is the line between full trust in yourself and mistrust in anyone else?"

... think I've come to a place where it's actively harmful for me to not let go a little bit more, so hopefully in 2025: less so default white-knuckle about things!

Other than that, probably getting back into music production in one way or another, and eating majorblinks alive! ^_^

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@zeketheknight asks: What are your favorite K-pop moments from 2024?

2024 was a great year for moments up my alley in general — I feel like I've been quite prolific about the more adult idols drum (which only becomes more real with time), and I think I can point to content coming out of Jeongyeon, Chaeyeon, Eunbi, Haewon, Shuhua, Youngji/Eunji as probably some of my more memorable moments of the year!

Like the middle minutes of this is still so fire LOL

The bar is low for risqué (real) in Kpop, but until we let them even address shit like this it's going to be diluted, pandering, and brainrot for a loooong time.

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@kooyabooya asks: thoughts on matcha lattes?

Big fan! I'm always doing a 2-shot matcha something within the workday. 

I've been meaning to explore more of this — I am somewhat... unconvinced the matcha game goes deeper than it looks like it does on the surface — so if you have good match recommendations please send my way!

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@friskyriskywhisky asks: How would you navigate this situation where you're not sure Hyewon is being friendly or flirty?

WHERE IN THE HELL IS THIS ONLY FRIENDLY IN ANY CONNOTATION?????????????????????

i'd probably piss my pants frisky 😎

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That's QUESTIONS AND BRAN-SWERS this time around! Thank you again to everyone who submitted an ask, and you for reading if you got all the way down here. This was really, really fun, and I'd like to do more writing-latent stuff in the future. Until then: happy new year, be good to each other, and see you in the next one!

— Bran

[sceletaflores]

•｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ wip wednesday!

thanks for the tag angel baby @guiltyasdave <3 • 18+ under the cut! MDNI!

wip #1 • far too familiar a stranger…feat. logan howlett (& crimson!)

a long time ago, logan howlett knew a woman with your face…

i couldn’t not write a ‘worst!logan coming face to face with his tragically dead love interest but from wade’s universe after wade forced her to help them stop the TVA and hating her for bringing up that time in his life until he doesn’t anymore’ fic.

it's crimson because i felt that making whole new mutant reader would be sort of confusing so this fic is in the to the bone universe but it's not the same timeline...if that makes sense lmao

Wade Wilson is the worst neighbor in the entire fucking world. It’s really something you should have known sooner, like ‘the very first day in your new place ending with him breaking in through your window fully suited up after counting the floors wrong and bleeding all over your brand new pottery barn throw rug because he was still a little too concussed to walk’ sooner. Even after that whole fiasco left you with a broken window latch and a beyond fucked non-refundable $80 carpet, you still let yourself entertain his crazy. Just like everyone else whose life Wade crashed into, both physically or metaphorically. And once he's in, you can never really get him back out again. So yeah, maybe this whole thing is your fault. Maybe getting thrown into a barren, dusty void with two somewhat failed X-Men is just all your bad karma manifesting in one huge finger from the universe.

wip #2 • red and yellow kill a fellow! feat. logan howlett & wade wilson

logan doesn’t appreciate you letting wade get one up on him…

finally finally finally getting off my ass and writing logan x reader x wade! i was inspired by this one episode of satc (which is like my favorite show ever bee tee dubs) where charlotte goes out with two guys at the same time and she has sex with one but not the other until one of them catches her with the other guy and they all break it off.

my vision is a little different cause instead of getting mad and leaving when logan finds out reader fucked wade and not him, he figures it's his turn to get even. aka wade in the cuck chair and loving it.

The three of you pass a BMW sitting in a no parking zone, all four windows rolled down as Madonna blasts through the speakers. "So," Wade says, voice breaking the silence for the first time in five minutes. "Who white-washed your guts better?" You nearly trip over your own feet, whipping your head to gape at Wade. "Fucking excuse me?" "You know," Wade shrugs, like it's a perfectly normal thing to ask. The leisurely pace of his stroll not slowing, his hands still stuffed in the pockets of his jeans. "Who carved the lyrical railway better?" He just keeps going as you stare at him with a repulsed look on your face. "The number one stud that's stuffin' your muffin? That's takin the ol' bald-headed gnome for a satisfying stroll in the misty forest. Pick one hot stuff, they all mean the same thing." Before you can even answer there's a rough, questioning grunt from your right and your stomach flips. Oh. Logan, he was still here too. Still here and right next to you, listening. Oh yeah. "You fucked?" You still haven't slept with Logan yet. You turn to him face slowly, eyes a hair wide as you take in the sharp raise of his brow. "Um..." "Whoops," Wade snorts from somewhere behind your shoulder. "Cat's out the bag."

wip #3 • it's the easiest thing (just love me and eat me) feat. logan howlett

it’s not often that logan needs this, but you’re always more than happy to give it to him when he does…

the same requested sub!logan fic from last wednesday just with a new name and weirder energy! like this has really gotten away from me and turned into something that i can't really explain well enough to make it sound like chill...

lots of religious imagery and symbolism...and some metaphors of cannibalism...idk i'm just a girl with religious trauma and a weird blood fetish sue me.

You've come to think that being in bed with Logan is like being in church. The familiar weight of his body pressing you into the mattress is the alter. The heat of it like laying in the burning flame of a candle. The strong planes of his muscles each a different scripture that you take in by touch alone, skating your hands over his skin with something close to worship. Each bead of sweat on his skin feels sacred, a testament to the intensity between you, as though every part of him has been crafted for this moment of devotion. The hard length of his cock carves a place for itself inside you, each heavy smack of his hips punching another desperate sound out of your slack lips. His breath, deep and ragged, is a chant that pulls you into reverence. It puffs against the wild beat of your pulse, his lips brushing over the fever hot plane of your skin. The sound of your name pulled from his mouth sounds like a prayer answered. You can’t help but close your eyes, not in exhaustion, but in a kind of spiritual surrender, like by shutting out the world, you can truly grasp the divinity of it. There's a holiness to the way he holds you—like you’re the only thing worth believing in.

kisses!

no pressure tags! @ebodebo @artemis-b-writes @avocado-writing @superhoeva

[bekaterrier]

Happy Audio Drama Sunday! Go your pace today, in this life. No one else's. You can't be rushed, you can't be slowed down.

@startripperhq S1E4 - S2: So I might have accidentally binged the entire rest of S1 and then all of S2 within the first few days if this week... it's just so good! S2 was so much fun, with the new crew members joining and revisiting old friends (and foes). It is such a lovely and positive AD, I'm definitely slotting it into my comfort show re-listen rotation! 🚀

@hinaypod Episode 58.1 - Hen and Eda (Pride 2025): Hi Nay Pride specials are always so good, and this one was no exception. We got to hear more about the backstory of a previously-mentioned relative of Donner, which I've been practically salivating for. What I wasn't expecting was to hear the sweetest love story, both between Hen and Eda, and also between Eda and herself. I loved hearing how they fit into the Hi Nay lore, but also how they carved a space for themselves in the world. 🏳️‍⚧️ 🏳️‍🌈✨

@forgedbondspod - Chapter 20: The slow burn is slow burning! I love that we're getting to see the gradual shift from friendship towards something new for our two duos – even though I just want to smush their faces together! They're too sweet! 💍

@clinical-space-podcast S1E03 - Company or Crowd: It was very interesting hearing more about the hosting program, from both host and hostee perspectives. Then some info on Aja's mom... And now she has a pet housefloof!! I want one!! We're starting to learn more about the doc's government mandated BFFs. Very interesting that the one she doesn't mesh with is the one we heard in the post-credits scene last episode... I also just want to say that the intro sequence creates such specific imagery in my mind. A grand opening over open space, endless stars and galaxies in the distance...pan over to see the Erebus, forging its path forward through the stars. 💫

@iriscasefiles 3.00.25 Mini Episode - Getting Caught Up: We're back baby!! TSCOSI Season 3 has started!! I spent part of this week re-listening to S1 & S2, remembering just how much I love this show and this crew. Maybe I didn't need to though, because this recap episode was so good. Hearing Arkady try to talk about feelings stuff to herself, explaining the frankly insane things that have happened since the start of the series, was such a great way to get us back into this universe and this story. I can't wait to hear where this season takes us. 🌌

@re-dracula Week 5: Only one quick entry this week, from Dr. Seward about his patient Renfield. The saying is, "no news is good news," but somehow I think that doesn't apply for our friend Jonathan... 🦇

[nebrasska-alasska]

Dear extremely talented author,

first i would like to say that I ABSOLUTELY ADORE YOUR FICS. that one time you didnt upload for a week i felt like i was having withdrawals and you do not understand how overjoyed i was checking ao3 at 11pm in bed for the 3748386347th time that day OH MY DAYS

ok now my actual question, i want to try my hand at creative writing (cough fanfics cough) but i tried it a year ago and it didnt exactly turn out well.. (its now sitting as a pile of ashes) im really mesmerised by how well you write your narratives and not just how well you portray the character itself, also in like pacing and imagery etc. do you have any advice on how to improve my ability to write creatively? i feel like sometimes i go too overboard on descriptions which kinda messes up my pacing and honestly you are probably one of the authors whose writing style i genuinely envy (dont take this the wrong way i just REALLY love your writing style), so what can i do if i just wanna fix up those kind of things?

again, I LOVE YOUR WORK AND CONSUME IT RELIGIOUSLY ARBHDBDNEKDJFJ

THANK YOU!!! I'm so happy that they bring you so much joy!!! And apologies for causing withdrawals LMAO but okay! I'm going to start by saying that perhaps an overly descriptive way of writing is your style and what works for you! That might be what you have to lean into as you find your voice, and being unique is part of the fun of writing!

As for my advice, it is purely anecdotal... one of my two majors was English literature, not creative writing, so outside of a handful of classes on the topic I don't really have a formal education on this LMAO this is just how I do it!

I feel like for me, I try to blend the structure of each chapter as being an even mix between action, dialogue, and reflection, if that makes sense. Like, it is one of my main objectives to prevent one of these things from dominating. So if you feel like you're going overboard on descriptions, maybe try incorporating more of these things so that there is more of a balance? Although, it's impossible to tell without me seeing your writing, because truthfully, heavy description might be what works for you and should be what you embrace!

I feel like at the core of my chapters is usually the conversation two characters will have. You'll have the actual talking (dialogue), what the characters are doing during the conversation (action), and then there will be pauses where the pov character exhibit their reactions or internal thoughts on what is being said (reflection). There is other stuff in between, like pure action of stuff being done, or long-winded reflections, but I will lean into these depending on what the chapter calls for. And then you can spice it up with the occasional metaphor, description of the environment, or play around with various sentence structures to keep readers engaged and on their toes.

With that being said, if you have description down, that is oftentimes the hardest battle. In order to make a story feel more alive, I feel like I have to make an active effort to include descriptions of the setting and how it interplays with what is going on in the story... otherwise it's just characters running around a blank world. So good for you!!!

That was super long, so apologies. Thank you for the ask, and I'm so glad you enjoy my works so much!!! Messages like this always make me smile, so I really appreciate it!!! :D

[honeyhotteoks]

do you have any advice on like getting better with writing?

hey! i definitely do!! i’ve talked about this before but i have a lot of new readers, so ill start off by saying i’ve been writing for my entire life, and im 30 so thats a lot of years. if you’re a new writer, trust me i used to be there and good god if you guys could see the stuff i published in old fandoms 💀 really, really bad haha

i only say that because i by no means consider myself a great writer, there are fic writers in this space alone that i’m always so floored by and look up to…. but people have been very kind about my writing style and it’s something that took time to develop it’s not something i just “had”. outside of fic, i was a literature and creative writing major, and got very used to writing and workshopping pieces.

now! onto some actual advice —

1. read a lot and read more, but read stuff you actually like and not stuff you feel pressured to read. i love high brow litfic as much as the next pretentious english major, but i started writing a ton after reading a bunch of kindle unlimited romance because it was fun and it got me inspired

2. watch well written television for dialogue and pacing. people do not talk in proper english, they don’t say things eloquently, and there’s a lot of filler and fluff. that’s good! that’s real, so i love well written tv to show me how it’s done

3. get comfortable writing in weird ways. for years i used to sit down and be like “ah okay so chapter one” and then i was stuck, stalled out, and just felt bad about the process. when i started writing both aurora and tnt, i started in the middle. i had an image of a scene in my mind (for tnt it was actually the claim attempt) and i just wrote it out and then bounced around later

4. outlines are your friend! sometimes i’ll get a random line of dialogue in my head or an image but that doesn’t mean i’m ready to write it. i throw it in one big outline so i don’t lose it.

5. if you’re wanting to write really good smut i have two suggestions but please only do this to your personal comfort level. this is what works for me but do not make yourself uncomfortable— for good smut, i watch porn for reference and for good dirty talk, i listen to nsfw audio. i like to really write the visuals for smut and make it immersive but lol i haven’t experienced everything ive written about and logistics of the body are hard!! i usually find a video or an audio and let that help guide the imagery im writing.

6. be comfortable with the editing process. i know the temptation to post something the minute you finish it is there, but sleep on it. come back and edit it, read the dialogue out loud if you have to. i swear you’ll make the piece better just by leaving it and coming back.

7. don’t be afraid to post. most people are kind, and the worst thing that will happen is you don’t get a lot of notes. that’s okay, it’s a process.

8. research! as i’m writing anything, even a silly little oneshot, im doing research on something. i am hyper aware that im not korean and have never spoken korean or lived in korea, so for my fic i try my hardest to ground elements of that in reality. i truly cannot tell you how many hours ive spent reading like korean case law on revenge porn just for like 3 lines of dialogue. and you don’t have to go that crazy, i’m arguably too intense, but i do think some of that helps the story and the dialogue feel real.

9. describe something real- every place in my writing is based on something real. every apartment, hotel, cafe, venue, etc., they’re all either something i’ve found online or drawn from my life and use that to my advantage. i use apartment listings and save photographs, i do google map walks to see what neighborhoods look like, anything to get the feel of a place or an experience. for the christmas chapters of aurora, i watched hours of gwangju walking tour videos on youtube while i was writing just to understand how to describe their walk in the snow. it really helps me to have a visual that i can put words to.

10. find your weak points and see what other writers do differently. if you want to improve, you should find a small place to start. is it dialogue? overall plot? smut? etc. - i’ll never forget being on a creative writing retreat, and a very important writing professor said to me “everything you write is very pretty but you haven’t said anything. you have to decide to say something.” that feedback hurt, but sent me down a much better writing path when i realized where i was falling short and not challenging myself.

okay i hope some of this was helpful and if it’s a mess im sorry im on mobile. i really just love writing so deeply and will always talk about it, so i hope this was helpful 💗

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

s8 episode 4 “roadrunners” thoughts

we! are! back!

i haven’t seen an episode in 5 days, so i’m feeling the excitement. and this one seems to be scully-centric! i cannot wait! it is called “roadrunners” and it seems that scully is going to find herself stranded somewhere… i have a feeling i will be SPOOKED!!

let us begin! i have no further thoughts beyond that scully loves to make cartoon references, so even if the episode called “roadrunners” didn’t have her face on the thumbnail, i would imagine she would feature heavily. and also, i am worried for her… girl, please be safe. i’m scared. 

okaaaay!!

(post-episode thoughts: this was a good episode- compelling plot, the pacing was excellent, and i have no major qualms with how the characters were handled like i usually do when i don’t enjoy an episode- but i didn’t like it because it was toooooo scary and nasty💀💀 i’m speeding through editing these notes so i can upload them right away and Not think about the spine worm any longer.

and while there were some very interesting things going on in the doggett and scully dynamic in this episode, especially with her not telling him about the case, and then their conversation at the end- analyze as you please- i need time to detox from those images. i trust you understand

🧼scrub scrub scrub it from my brain!!!!)

back to past me!

oh girl, i clicked play and it already seems creepy. we are in a utah desert. someone takes pills by the side of the road. puts on some headphones. goes to a payphone. 

he might be lost. oh no, he is hitchhiking. trying to flag down a bus. and it stops for him, luckily, even though he got mad and started yelling. he takes his stuff on the bus and yells at the driver, who says nothing. it seems none of the passengers say anything to him, either. this doesn’t bother hitchhiker man, who puts on his headphones and tries to sleep. 

the bus stops and almost everyone departs, including the woman sitting next to him. and he’s asking where they are going and getting ignored. but he follows along. 

they are all staring at this one guy who is using some sort of crutch-like mobility aid… and then the bus driver smashes him over the head with a rock?? hitchhiker fellow is GAGGED!!! are they SACRIFICING him?? OH MY GOD??? hitchhiker tried to run away, but they surround him, also holding rocks… 

GIRL. I AM SPOOKED!!! 

scully honey, please stay away from these people.

she is SERVING in that new intro headshot though, let me just make that clear. more intro imagery: creepy baby. eyeball. mulder falling. we’re getting familiar with these sights.

let’s goooo to spooky town!!!

BLEH, there is blood at the scene. SCULLY IS TAKING PICTURES! oh, scully with a camera… i want to know what she would take pictures of when not working. she is still in heels. still in a desert. we need to get her to stop with the heels in the desert thing.

she finds a rock covered in goop and scoops it into a bag. is she out here ALONE?? where is doggett? and she has no cell service!!!!

ah, roadrunner is the name of the bus line. she goes to the payphone and tries to make a call there, right beneath the sign for the bus.

she says good morning to doggett and he says “good afternoon”- time zones! she is out of town! a local coroner called and asked for help… and i guess she was who they came to? who knows. he didn't know where tf she was!

the body had some… anomalies. a 22 year old backpacker was last seen 6 months ago in perfect health, but his body shows signs of advanced osteoporosis, arthritis, and kyphosis of the vertebrae. and i don’t even KNOW what that last one means!! what did these townspeople do to him? anyway, the body had the spine of a 90 year old woman. yikes.

doggett seems a bit surprised she didn’t need him- she says they called over the weekend and she didn’t want to bother him- but he offers to do anything he can from the bureau. aww. can he get her a ride?

(author's note: hmm... so many ways you can interpret her "not wanting to bother him". i find myself wanting to read the script to understand what was written. that is the thing about TV- when you don't have the words the actors were given in front of you, there are so many ways you can interpret the acting choices!)

she actually wants some help! they have some files about a murder case… and she doesn’t remember the details like where or when it happened, but she remembers some glycoproteins at the crime scene. unidentified mucus. and since he recently went through all the files, maybe he could help…. her face is desperate. 

“well, i don’t have a great memory for mucus, but i’ll be happy to look”, says special agent john doggett, a deeply serious man.

he asks for any more info… but the scary bus goes by so she can’t hear him!! once he finds it, could he please fax it over to the local sheriff’s office? <- FAX! how truly vintage.

she watches the bus… it makes a turn. and then gets in her car. YAY, SHE HAS A CAR, I MEAN I REALLY HOPED SO, but i didn't see it while she was sleuthing… and goes to get some gas. the station seems empty… 

she calls out “hello?” and then honks the horn, which nearly made me jump, LMAO. everything looks so hot. i am thirsty just watching this. she has her map and her green button up under a brown jacket and the world against her.

as she looks at the map… a man approaches. she wants to know where the road goes and also what happened to his hand. EEK, he cut it with his saw. she is gonna investigate his hand while asking about the murder. 

AWW, she tells him to wash it out and put on some iodine “you sound like my mother” “yeah? well i also sound like a doctor” “medical doctor?” “yeah” <- aww… you can take the doctor into the desert and she is gonna find someone to heal up. 

she asks for some gas, and he says he doesn’t have any. she says she’ll be fine- she has a quarter tank- but he runs around the back to get something, which she thanks him for. aww, scully making polite small talk...

she still cannot figure out this map. it must be wrong, because she knows how to navigate stuff. 

he comes back with some gas and she says thank youuuu!!! and btw, where tf are we? he says we’re not really a town… just a few like-minded people trying to keep the modern world at bay. tf does THAT mean? is he evil? is he putting diesel in her car to make it break down?

maybe not, at least on the disesel front, because she takes off. while gas guy goes inside and finds the bus driver AND THE HITCHHIKER?? and declares that help is coming. the hitchhiker is writhing in bed. is he going to get her to come back somehow and heal him! but what are they even doing to him?!

nooo!!! her engine starts to sputter. so she walks back. “you put something in my tank that killed my engine” <- GET HIM! does she have all of her stuff though? or is she here with just her jacket!!

and she wants to see the gas can, so don’t even try to play dumb. she pours it into her hand… smells it… and declares it to be WATER! he pretends he didn’t know that. “it must have gotten rain in it” “oh, and it rains a lot here, does it?” <- LMAOOOO

she is soooo mad. all traces of earlier polite small talk scully have evaporated in the desert heat. he says he doesn’t have a phone. but there is one up the street. so she goes. opens the door. calls out hello. no response. 

oh, one of the guys from the bus is here, and his name is milsap. he is all in shadow. leads her to a room. the phone line is dead. but he says it’ll come back on. in ten minutes… two hours… who knows when. she’s welcome to wait here. he can even give her a room!

“what the hell is going on here? i get the distinct impression that somebody doesn’t want me to leave” but he denies everything… even that a bus came through. her eyes are so blue. she is weirded tf out. 

and she does not wanna walk those 20 miles. that hand on her abdomen… the deep sigh. i am doing a deep sigh of my own.

AWWW, she runs after someone else who hides from her :( there is a whole group of people in there ignoring her!!! WHAT IS GOING ON… she knocks on each door…. looks in the window…

while that creepy milsap guy stares at her. so. she accepts a room. cocks her gun. sits in bed with it in her hands. while people with lanterns approach!! so many people with lanterns!!! 

this is so CREEEEEPY. 

she falls asleep. someone wakes her up with a knock on the door, so she GRABS HER GUN AND HAS IT POINTED. WHEW!!!! do NOT mess with her- it will be the last thing you do. it’s milsap, and he calls her “doctor”, asking to speak with her. saying there is an emergency. 

she opens the door. carefully. he claims a man downstairs needs help. 

hitchhiker man is having a seizure, and she tells bus driver to stop holding him down. and she’s doing her doctory thing. huh, i guess if someone smells like acetone, that means they are hyperglycemic! who knew? she did, but i didn’t. they don’t know his name, which is suspicious… possibly he is epileptic and stopped taking meds.

BLEAUGH, his back is covered in blood. they claim they don’t know how that happened. they need to get him to a hospital NOW. 

and she presumes correctly that the phone is still “not working” and no one has a car. DOGGETT, CAN YOU SEND A GUY DOWN… 

milsap says they can send someone on foot to the state road. in the mean time, she asks for corn syrup. 

DOGGETT IS CALLING THE UTAH SHERIFF'S DEPARTMENT SHE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE AT!! and they don’t know where she is!!! he asks them to send a car out. she called him yesterday somewhere north of sugarville. he says thank you. and then calls someone else. asks for her call to be traced.

scully still has no cell service while the bus driver asks if she is doing this right. well, raising his blood sugar could help if that is what is wrong with him, but they DO NOT KNOW. and unless you can get some diazepam or phenobarbital…. 

he starts to cough!! he says he feels okay and that he just needs rest. and he asks scully to stay. “thank you for, uh, helping me” “well, i’m not sure if i’ve actually done anything. in fact, i don’t even know, uh… i don’t even know what is going on with you right now” <- LMAOOOO, i respect the honesty, it just sounds very funny from her

he doesn’t even remember his name or how he got here. or who these people are. and she tells him she thinks they stranded her here to tend to him. 

why would they do that? well, a guy was stoned to death nearby. perhaps upwards of a dozen people were involved based on the footprints… a group has to be tight-knit to murder together. a cult. like these people. “what are you, a detective?” <- well kinda!!

AUGH, SHE SQUEEZES HIS BACK WOUND with her BARE HANDS and he moans. and another bump comes up. and it is MOVING. while he writhes and writhes. OH SHE GOT HER PLIERS, I CANNOT LOOK AT THIS SHIT! LALALALALA… WHY IS IT MOVINGGGGG?? WHAT DID SHE PULL FROM HIM?? SHE IS LIKE STARING AT A CHUNK OF SOMETHING???

HELLLLLLLL NOOOOOO 😫😫😫😫😫

deep. breathing. NGDJSKDNSKS

nasty, nasty…. are they putting something in him that leeches out all his nutrients??

doggett is printing a missing persons poster… he wants to know if the local utah police are canvassing for scully!!! he is sending someone down there AND he will be arriving shortly himself!!! they need to look at this from the angle of the payphone she called from! only one call was placed other than hers, it was 4 days before she called, and it was a guy named hank… WHO IS THE HITCHHIKER ON THE MISSING POSTER!! he said he would be at his sister’s in 2 days and never showed.

scully is talking to a the guy we now know as hank. while the others praise god. and he asks what is wrong with him, telling the others to go. she slams the door in their faces. 

a parasite is in his back!! it lives in his spine!!! something she has never seen before!! and she doesn’t know how to get it out!! she tells him that he will die if they cannot get it treated and that she thinks they put it in him. they killed the last person in his position and she is scared they’ll kill him too. she wants to get them out of here. so she opens a window to go investigate. 

“you’re not gonna be gone long, right?” she pauses. asks if he knows how to use a gun. NOOO, DON’T LEAVE YOUR GUN!!! but this is exactly what she does. i’m not buying this guy isn’t somehow in on it. 

milsap and bus driver knock on the door right as she leaves… and he tells them she says he is dying, “we need another swap” <- what does THAT MEAN?? so his ass WAS in on it?? and now he has her gun!!! NOOOO

doggett is here in utah with the sheriff and some fellows from the FBI. he hands the sheriff a photo of a wound… sheriff says that it is from the murder victim. but doggett says it is from a 1991 texas john doe!! and it happened again in arizona, and then new mexico, and then nevada! all victims had their brains beaten out and their bodies dumped in remote areas!

scully had him find the first case… the mucus one! which she found at the crime scene! the more remote, the better for these murders….

scully is breaking and entering back in town. she has a little flashlight and finds a camper van!! but will there be a key?! nooo!!! someone approaches her!!! what will she do??

the dark, the flashlight… getting flashbacks to the early seasons

it’s hank! with the same mobility aid as the first victim we saw, hobbling toward her!! but he is followed by the others!!! she is surrounded!! they all have lanterns… and they grab her… and she screams that the FBI is searching for her. 

hank starts to say that her life will take a wonderful turn… that she will become a part of something greater than she is. “you’re going to be… so loved” “amen” they all chant

AND THEN THEY START BEAT HANK WITH ROCKS WHILE SHOUTING AMEN!!!! AND THEY PULL OUT THE WORM THING. 

AND THEY’RE BRINGING IT TOWARDS HER SO SHE YELLS THAT SHE IS PREGNANT, BUT GIRL, IDK IF THE WORM PEOPLE ARE GONNA CARE ABOUT THAT??? 

OH GOD… I NEED A BREATHER. 

if you could SEE my face right now… DOGGETT… WHERE ARE YOUUUUUUUUUU?

moral of the story: NEVER give a guy your gun 😭😭😭😭

they’re putting the worm thing in her BACK I THINK?? and she says she will kill all of them. but milsap says she will love us, protect us, teach us. that she’ll be one with him. “THAT THING IN MY SPINE IS A HIM?” <- lmao.

she is HOWLING and screaming, very convincingly for someone who has to act out the prompt "they're putting a worm in your back", which i imagine someone with less talent could fumble. lines like "that thing in my spine is a him?" do make you remember the inherent silliness of this TV show... but that is the only thing that feels silly right now. because this is very serious.

“that last man just wasn’t a suitable tabernacle”. milsap says they are taught not to be jealous, but they all are…. there is always the chance that her body won’t fail him. that he’ll be in her forever. 

car approaches. doggett, please light this place up. 

she screams for help, but they shut her up with a gag…..

and it is doggett!!! bus driver and milsap approach him. he shows them a missing poster of scully, who they deny seeing. 

she is bound up. knocks a lamp with her foot. starts a fire. they keep denying it to doggett’s face. he starts to leave…. gets in his car…. but someone stamps out the fire she started. 

where is he going….. he calls the sheriff. says he is getting a vibe. says to hurry. talked to a guy with a gun in his pocket, and that did not mean he was happy to see him. again. lmao. but only briefly.

she is screaming and groaning while the gas guy looks on… doggett comes in!!! knocks gas guy out!!! finds scully. who demands he get her the hell out of here.

he starts to carry her… she tells him to go to the camper van. gently sets her down. and he says he can certainly hotwire it.

she starts screaming, cut it out of me, cut it out of me now. but they're coming!!!!!! slamming their hands on the windows!!! while he’s trying to do it!!!!

they’re smashing the windows in!!! he gets the worm!!!!!! shoots that sucker!!! they’re all silent. 

he wraps up scully in his jacket and carries her back to his car. they say nothing. 

sirens approach. oh my god…..

so, a week later, she’s still in the hospital. packing up her things. bandage on her neck where he ripped the damn thing out. he knocks on the door. doggett asks if she is ready to go. grand jury convenes today, he says. the cult believe they worshiped christ and that thing was the second coming. 

she says she is sorry for leaving him out. “it was, you screwed up” “and i won’t do it again” “i appreciate it” 

she goes to grab her things... but he takes her bag before she can grab it. then follows him out.

oh my god…. 

the end.

well, that ending was pretty fascinating.

did she really not want to bother him and that is why she left him out of the case? was this about her confronting her vulnerability? the nasty facts of it? that you have to rely on a partner, even if it isn’t your soulmate?

or was she trying to keep him at arm’s length and do her own thing because she still doesn’t fully trust him? or do you think this was about reclaiming her autonomy and doing something on her own terms when so much is out of her control, and then it backfired?

god, her begging him to rip that thing out and then carrying her…. whew. WILDLY intense. again, she was selling it, which is a hard thing to do when you have to act like a parasite is in your spine. and i will admit that i barely looked as he got it out because i was gagging, but: noble agent doggett, ripping a worm out of his new partner's body, wrapping her up in his jacket, and carrying her bridal-style to safety... all performed silently... whew. there are LAYERS there, man.

do you think he went home for the week she was in the hospital? or do you think he stayed by her side? do you think he hated her a little bit for doing something so reckless? do you think he blamed himself? 

how tf do you treat a person for a parasitic life form? i would assume a course of antibiotics... but can you even do that when you’re pregnant? maybe the thing was only in there for like a few hours so it didn’t mess with her system or the baby or anything *that* much, but like, holy fuck. her medical history is absolutely crazy, and that is a notable addition.

they kept her there for a week, so i assume doggett knows her secret now… and also, the creepy townspeople knew, and she likely had to testify about what happened anyway, which he might have read... he probably had his suspicions after the first time they kept her in the hospital for so long… oh my god, is she ever gonna, like. NOT put herself right in the face of danger? but in her defense, she really didn't know- she just went up to look at a body. there shouldn't have been any harm in that!

SIGH. she really wanted to help that hank fellow… but he was in on it. i mean, or was he? once it was in him, it seems like it takes over your brain, makes you do things in service of it. makes you think you’re anointed or something. even though he knew they were going to smash his brain open, he didn’t seem bothered, just truly excited for her opportunity to be next. and you know scully is always going to want to protect the innocent. it is in her DNA.

fuck. well. i don’t like this one, LMAO. don’t get me wrong!! it was a fine episode, i don’t have broader critiques about it mangling characters or whatnot... that was just TOOOO much for me. another case of the show where spooky things happen actually being a little TOO spooky for yours truly. i’m not looking forward to editing these notes tomorrow and rewatching it by proxy, so i might try to speed through them just so i don’t have to dwell on it. 

NASTY. nasty. 

fascinating things going on in scully and doggett’s brains, though. i wonder if she thought going down to utah and doing something on the side would distract her and keep her busy- make her days feel more purposeful as she waits for a lead on mulder. maybe she wanted to slight doggett. maybe she wanted something to be just hers. maybe she didn’t think about it at all and felt all these things subconsciously. she didn’t even tell him when she left… maybe she didn’t think it would be that long. either way, she is definitely in a lot of distress, so it’s not like she is in her normal state of mind. and it seemed like an easy enough thing to do… it makes me sad.

and poor doggett, too. i don’t think understanding scully will ever come easy to him. but he seems like he really wants to. she might be shutting him out purposefully, or perhaps not, but she is shutting him out either way, even when it seems like they’re getting closer, it must sting for both of them that he has to be mulder’s replacement, which stirs up all kinds of emotions… but finding her like that, listening to her howl in pain, and then cutting that thing out of her back...

and there is something really sick and twisted about them carrying each other's bloody and broken bodies to safety, but being unable to talk about anything other than work. something verrrrrry twisted there. and frankly, i am eating it up.

fuck. her having to tell her secret to someone she didn’t want to because it was her only chance of saving her life… sooo evil. that should be what she gets to share with her loved ones, not people trying to STICK A SPINE WORM IN HER. nasty. nasty. and in the end, they didn't even care!!

and we STILL haven't seen her mother... maybe they talked off-camera... well, i would have liked to see that... or maybe it is just coming later?

i wonder if she’ll be roughly 20% more cautious now. i wonder if the recklessness is a form of denial of her circumstances. i wonder if skinner would yell at her if he found out she slipped out to utah without telling anyone. ooo, tag me if you write that. 

for now, i end my thoughts here, because i do not wish to dwell on spine worm any longer. it was a perfectly fine- nay, even a good episode! but: YUCKY.

[crow-quilll]

Hello :) i really like ur writing style and wanted to know your writing tips!

Like, how do you get a clean and nice pace? Or how to write intense scenes? Or what words to choose? Etc

I thank you graciously for sharing your works 🙏🙏

HELLO SLEEPY!! I meant to respond to this way earlier but stuff got in the way -- however I have arrived!!

Let's dig in:

In terms of pacing, it is always helpful to have a clear outline of every event that will happen - I write all of mine in a notes app, write down each key event and how the chapter will progress. I think that way I get a good idea of what sections should be longer, which are more important and need more detail, and which should be intentionally fast to amp up pressure. Ofc it depends on what you're writing! I've always written these sorts of angsty hurt/comfort fics, so I've just had a lot of practice with them. I can assure you that I'd struggle with a slow pace slice-of-life au in any fandom.

Writing intense scenes mostly comes with practice, I've had 10 long years of experience haha! But there are some things that I've learned to do for those scenes:

Positioning is important, set it up early. You want your readers to know exactly where your characters are so they aren't confused which will slow down how they read the scene. You want them following the speed of the scene you've set.

Shortening your sentences and descriptions will make your scene more intense because your reader feels like they are struggling to keep up with it. It also makes them predict a breaking point - a point in the sentence structure where it reaches a limit and either stops completely or slows back down. So they hang on to every word, waiting for that drop.

Metaphors and imagery are great for describing emotional or physical pain - but I try not to overdo it, especially in "Nobody's Soldier" when those scenes are pretty lengthy. I try to keep those scenes feeling intense and quick because the stakes are supposed to feel high for Gi-hun - and by extension, for the readers.

As for word choice, that really depends on your style and where you find your inspiration from! Like I said, I've primarily written hurt/comfort and whump fics, so my style developed to be very physical: I always think about the facial expressions of the characters, the way their body reacts to stimuli, where they are standing and how they stand, etc. That comes from working on how to describe reactions to pain, and they always tell you to show it instead of telling it: "he winced/he flinched" rather than "it hurt him".

A lot of my style just comes from the things I take inspiration from. Funnily enough, I don't read fics or books for fun because I read so much for university in my history/english program. So I find my inspiration in the historical sources and literature I read. I think a good example I can give is from a poem by Wilfred Owen, an English poet who fought in WWI, called Dulce et Decorum est, which uses very visceral language (ie. "His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin;/ If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood/ Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs..."). I'm sure you can some similarity between his descriptions and my own -- albeit, mine are far less sophisticated than his. But I still try to emulate how grotesquely he describes the human body, as well as the sharp rhythm of certain lines like "sick of sin." ANYWAYS thats enough university talk that i'm sure sounds boring haha. I also find inspiration in video games, in TV shows, in everything. The world around us is composed of sentences waiting to be written, you just have to look for them and put pen to paper :))

One last tip I can give is to just write what you enjoy! I know ao3 can be disheartening if your work doesn't get a lot of love, but honestly as long as you are having fun, it is well worth it. I have written for dead fandoms in the past - and in fact, I have more often written for dead fandoms than for popular ones. I'm somehow always late to the party, except this time ofc with Squid Game.

Anyways, I think that is all I have for now!! If you have any further questions, please ask away. I'm so flattered to have been asked about something like this, thank you to coming for me and reading what I write <3 <3

[inkblottiger]

Pokemon trainer minori!! she specializes in flying and normal types :3

Chatot - the first pokemon that popped into mind because of the wing and feather imagery that's usually associated with minori! i think it would be cute if minori practiced dances using chatot's metronome tail to keep pace of her dance routine ><

Farfetch'd - ik that usually people think of ichika first when it comes to who is a miku fan but minori is also! a miku fan!!! anyway that's why i chose farfetch'd! and also because i think they would be buddies and practice idol cheers and how to wave their lightsticks/leeks n stuff together :3c

Ditto - i know that she kinda grows out of it after that beach training ep (?) but i chose ditto because of minori's tendency to mimic other idols' style of movement! also it's kind of an hc of mine that minori just does this with a lot of stuff unrelated to dancing n being an idol skjdhfg

[mirror-to-the-past]

Day 1, and I am... immediately not too pleased with the story adaptation in the OMORI manga, unfortunately. Pacing is absolutely BREAKNECK SPEED, with the majority of day 3 being zoomed through.

The most criminal decision is that the prologue beginning in White Space and Headspace was swapped for a flashback to the Christmas Day memory, and then Sunny wakes up and meets Kel at the door. No Headspace centric prologue in which we lose Basil, get introduced to the cast from how they are relevant to Sunny's feelings and memory, and develop our perceptions of the supporting cast alongside Sunny's dated memories of them. Just BOOM, here's real-world Kel, Basil, and Aubrey.

And in the case of Aubrey, this ESPECIALLY hurts her real-world character introduction. A large part of what made her character immediately compelling was really being able to appreciate the contrast between her real-world self and her Headspace self, which leads the player/audience to be like "What? But she was so sweet before!! What on earth made her like this? How can I help her become like how she used to be? CAN she be like how she used to be??" She's got fanfic characterization of being much more of a violent bully rather than a girl with bad communication skills and angst for days, particularly in that she is ACTUALLY HITTING PEOPLE WITH HER NAIL BAT. Uhm, WHAT?! (Also HOW on earth did Basil get completely bodied with Aubrey's bat in the side of the head and proceed to get up, unbloodied, the next panel? What are they feeding my boy to make his epidermis and cranium made of steel??) (Edit: Looking at the scene again, it looks like Aubrey might have kicked Basil to make him fall over, right after swinging her bat around in close proximity to his head. They don't really make the flow of action all that clear, so it's easy to have the misconception that Aubrey is being actually more violent than she really is, rather than just putting up an intimidating front.)

In the manga, the character introduction name cards and descriptions only first appeared in the Headspace portion AFTER all of the Day 3 stuff turbo-sped past us, which really makes you feel like all the jumbled together Day 3 stuff that ACTUALLY introduced the characters in this adaptation was just a strange choice.

Other nitpicks, I LOVE how Sunny is so expressive in this when he is afraid and whatnot, but why is Omori so expressive? The whole point of Sunny's Headspace-sona was that he was meant to be a temperate means of repression and giving Sunny emotional numbness- to the bad AND good. It's partly why Sunny's smile at the Good Ending of the game is so cathartic- he triumphed over Omori, so he's more able to feel the positive emotions that "Omori" caused to be stifled.

Also they're really just... putting all the stuff with Mari right out in the open from the beginning, huh? BOOM, here's violin imagery, BOOM your sister is dead, etc etc. I dunno, man...

Anyway here's gay boys

they be lookin'...

lashes for DAYS, also I love how Basil looks so sopping wet. I approve

Basil voice: "Hello everyone~..."

and honorary Hero because they made him look so 💅💅💅 here

Anywho, the art is absolutely LOVELY, I love the style, and the Hellmari panel was *mwah* MAGNIFIQUE. I will at least enjoy the visuals, I am sure.

[haemey]

Et resurrexit tertia die - Chapter 7: And one more for the road (4.8k, for a total of 40.3k so far)

Chapter Summary:

A meeting in a historic place. A shocking discovery that leads to questions and chances. A badly tuned piano that comes with badly timed advice.

Excerpt:

“Buy a girl a drink?” With only the slightest turn of his head, he glanced over. “Not looking for company.” “I'm not offering. Not in that way, anyway.” “Hm.” “Strike you a deal.” She climbed onto a barstool and propped one of her elbows up on the counter, leaning her chin into her palm. “You pay for my drink and I'll listen to all of your woes until I've finished it. You give me a tip and I'll play the next one ‘specially for you. Tip well and you even get to choose the song.”

Quick announcement before the tags and stuff (under the cut): I'll be going on holiday, so no uploads for the next two weeks.

CW: Feels at the beginning of the chapter, alcohol at the end of it.

Fic summary:

Half a year after Aziraphale left, Crowley is trying his best to come to terms with the fact that the world is going to end in just seven weeks and that he will likely have to face that end alone. Having done all he can, all that's left for him to do is to distract himself while he waits. Teaching a too-nice-for-their-own-good human not to take in random strangers might be just the ticket. Meanwhile, up in Heaven, Aziraphale is receiving some troubling news about the Second Coming. Troubling - but possibly the best chance he is ever going to get to set things to rights. Now, if only he could get Crowley aboard, but that seems to be much more difficult than he would like. The solution to all their problems is much closer than they think. If only they'd remember the elephant... OR: Just another post-season 2 fic. But with more glitter.

Tags:

Post-Season/Series 02, Canon Compliant, until S3 is out at least, Angst, Fluff, Comedy, sfw, The Second Coming (Good Omens), Jesus took the Crucifixion personally, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), They Are Not Talking, until they are, canon typical drinking, Crowley is a Mess (Good Omens), Crowley is a Little Shit (Good Omens), Aziraphale is "just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing" (Good Omens), Jaded Millennia old beings vs jaded Millennial, Original Character(s), Symbolism, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Bad Puns, Innuendo, Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Miscommunication, actual communication, Unlicensed and Unintentional and Involuntary Therapy, Rated M for heavy angst towards the end, POV Alternating, Additional Tags to Be Added, Betaed, Glitter, Footnotes

Thank you to @bellisima-writes for keeping track of my POVs and pacing, and to @lickthecowhappy for yelling at me a lot in this chapter.

Tagging @goodomensafterdark and @di-42