#This is like an exact copy of a post I just saw but it said lesbian so couldn't reblog rip to me

[femmeidiot]

i'm so much more than a hater I'm also bisexual

[ao3commentoftheday]

How many words is considered plagiarism?

I write for a small ship, and there's a new author (new to the ship but not to fanfic, they say) who not only takes inspiration from plots and headcanons of mine and other authors (which could be flattering for the writer and 'two cakes' for the reader actually) but plain reuses the exact same sentences. I am well aware that writers don't own words, but we're talking about full 10ish word long strings of text here. As I said, small ship, so all these 'similarities' stick out like a sore thumb. We never even saw this person commenting on our works. So, should WE say something? And how? It's a peaceful community, and I'd hate it if we broke that peace.

Generally speaking, plagiarism is directly copying something like 10% of another person's work and claiming it as your own. This is very much a ballpark figure and not a number that you can apply to all cases by running the word counts and doing the math. For example, with song lyrics, it's something like 2 or 3 lines.

Whatever the percentage might be in the cases you're talking about, they're very much feeling like plagiarism (rather than an homage, for example) and that's a really negative situation to find yourself in, especially when you want to keep the peace.

You have a handful of options for what to do, I think, and I'll leave it to you which one to choose.

Pretend it's not happening. Bite your tongue, grit your teeth, clench your fists and just be silently annoyed/frustrated/pissed. This will basically be your current situation, continued.

Block their works from showing up on your feed and mute their comments. The person may likely continue with what they're doing, but there won't be any fandom drama about it - at least not because of you. This way, you don't have to see them doing it.

Vague (or not-so-vague) post about it. The fandom is small and the author or a reader will likely be able to identify who you're talking about. Once the author is aware that you're calling them out, they might disappear from the fandom or it might start that drama trashfire you want to avoid. Less likely, they might edit their works and stick around.

Reach out to the author and accuse them of plagiarism one-on-one. This will probably have the same results as option 2, with the addition of maybe having screenshots of your conversation floating around your fandom.

Reach out to the author and welcome them to the fandom. Let them know that you're glad to see another writer for your small ship. Ask if they're new to AO3 and/or how long they've been writing fic. If they're new to fic or to AO3, you can let them know that they're creating an unfortunately bad first impression amongst the other authors. You can then help them navigate their new fandom waters. No fandom drama should result, and you'll get to keep an additional author for your small ship without the current frustrations. With this one, you really do want to go in with an empathizing mindset rather than a manipulative one, otherwise you'll end up screenshotted in drama like in option 4.

You can report their fic(s) to the Policy & Abuse team. PAC keeps all reports confidential, so the author would never know your name. If PAC investigates and decides it's not plagiarism after all, they'll let you know and the author will never know you sent in a report. If they decide it is plagiarism, they'll reach out to the author (still keeping your name out of it) and request that they edit their work to remove the plagiarism. The relevant fics would be hidden from view while the author edits them. If the author fails to edit them, PAC will delete them from the Archive. Whether this results in fandom drama will depend entirely on how the author reacts. Some people will make a public show about "false accusations" and others will quietly edit or delete their works. The quiet authors will likely end up leaving the fandom. The loud ones? Harder to say.

For more information on the PAC side of the plagiarism report (and how to write a report with all of the relevant info), I'll link two answers from PAC takeovers of the blog: answer 1 | answer 2

Are there any options anon has that I might have missed? What would you do in a situation like this?

[incognitopolls]

Genuine question

Why is it bad/frowned upon to submit one poll to several blogs? I personally haven't done it, but I've considered doing it for different responses as not everyone follows the same poll blogs / all of them.

I think it's fine if one person wants to submit their own poll idea to several blogs for whatever reason. The desire for more data is real, especially if it's a burning question that you can't easily get answers to another way. I don't think that's what curiositysavesthecat was referring to, though; it sounds like they've received submissions that are exact copies of polls that are already published, suggesting that it's a different submitter who saw the original poll and thought, "Hey, fantastic idea, let me copy that."

We're talking about two different scenarios:

In the first scenario (what you're talking about), curiousblog1234 wants to know if people sing to their pets. curiousblog1234 sends this poll suggestion to 5 poll blogs because they really want to know and get the biggest sample they can.

In the second scenario (what I'm talking about), curiousblog1234 wants to know if people sing to their pets. curiousblog1234 sends this poll suggestion to generalpollblog7. The poll goes in generalpollblog7's queue and is released 2 weeks later. At that point, opportunistblog55 grabs it and submits it to a few more poll blogs.

There's a secret third scenario in which I do think it would be pretty fair to submit someone else's idea to another poll blog, which is if the question curiousblog1234 submitted to generalpollblog7 was, for instance, "Autistic people, which sense overwhelms you the most often?" and, after it was posted, opportunistblog55 submitted it to autismpolls40 because they knew it would get more targeted responses there.

Submitting duplicates of someone else's polls to other blogs isn't morally bad but it strikes me as just kind of rude if there's not a reason for it. Idk.

Also… this won't be true for every poll blog, but if it's a perfect word-for-word copy of a poll posted on this blog there's a very good chance that it's not the original submitter, because as I've said before I proofread and make slight changes to the wording of most polls to improve clarity at minimum.

Anyway.

[rhiaarrow]

Todays 5am rambling;

There is a difference between 'qBad' and 'Tio Bad' because Tio Bad instincts are just absolutely INGRAINED in ccBads brain and is just entirely separate from his actual qCharacter

Honestly. Half of the stuff he does he does out of instinct, not rp at this point.

And I'm 5am rambling about this just because it's become really really obvious to me these past couple days because Bad will be in rp with the eggs where he's not supposed to recognize them or know them but then he'll do or say little things that just doesn't quite fit with that and it's just so adorable because it's so obvious that he's just so used to hanging with the egg actors that some things are just natural at this point.

The most obvious is the iconic gasp whenever there's an egg downed message, of course.

(I still remain surprised that he managed to act completely nonchalant when Richas got knocked the other day, +1000 rp points there Brad)

That is a bodily response at this point, there is no character rp in that gasp of anxiety.

But there are just little things that slip through even when he is in full rp mode.

When Tallulah first saw him again he acted as qBad would but when Tallulah started to get genuinely upset Bad's voice changed to the voice he uses when talking through hard topics with eggs and he reassured her in a way that he didn't take the time to do with any of the other eggs and honestly it must've broken ccBad to not be able to comfort an egg that he's been a source of comfort for for almost a year.

Or when he went to ask Leo if she wanted to go mining. He'd previously been loud and confused with Leo and Foolish but when he went to speak to Leo alone he crouched in front of her and spoke clearly as he asked her and waited for her response, copying her when she jumped or crouched excitedly.

He learnt early on (back when the translations were still buggy as all hell) that sometimes when babysitting Leo in particular he had to make sure to speak clearly so that nothing got lost in translation because if you watch early vods there are times where Leo just does not understand what Bad is saying (and if you look at the transcription box it's often pretty damn easy to understand why she's confused because some of the stuff the early transcripts pick up are frankly hilariously far off from what was said).

Overtime he adapted, speaking clearer and reducing his use of complex vernacular or occasionally repeating phrases but changing them slightly to make the translations as understandable as possible and he still does that whenever he's talking directly with Leo, and now Pepito too.

The one that hurt and was the point that made me start writing this whole rambling was the way that Bad IMMEDIATELY snapped back into Tio mode as soon as he saw Pepito at spawn (even if from a pure rp standpoint it made not a lot of sense).

He was crouching in front of him, back to calling him little one, referring to all the eggs as 'kids' again, reassuring Pepito that he'd go pick up his dad and bring him to Pepito but only if he could make sure that Pepito was safe at his house first, trying to immediately get him out of the open and to set a pearl, telling him it wasn't his fault and that he doesn't need to apologise, that it's okay to be sad about his death but they need to get him somewhere safe first.

It broke me because this was just an exact echo of how he's had to act with every other egg after their deaths when he discusses the deep topics with them. He is too used to comforting eggs about these sorts of things and hearing him give the same reassurances killed me because Pepito is just a baby, he shouldn't have to have Tio Bad give him the after-death talk already.

(I feel like I keep giving Ted Talks atp with the length of my posts but ahhhhhhh neurospicy brainrot is just all consuming sometimes y'know? 🙃)

[murdockparker]

Paralyzed

Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: She walked in on a Friday afternoon. Steve needed nothing more than to get to know her--if only he could find it in himself to speak to her.

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: just pure fluff, mentions of murder (but not frfr)

A/N: no this isn't based on a big time rush song you're crazy anyway!! I think this is my first real Steve fic? The first real one I got around to posting I guess. Cheers!

__

It was a Friday afternoon.

Correction, it was a terribly busy Friday afternoon. Family Video was seemingly the place to be, people swarming the building in hopes of renting new releases for their perspective weekends. Steve usually loathed his Friday shifts for this exact reason, countless questions about the new tapes, a dozen or so mothers berating him when a certain movie is out of stock—as if Steve Harrington himself is the reason behind the madness.

But, this afternoon was different. 

This afternoon she walked in. 

He had enough of the madness, leaving Robin all alone to deal with the wolves for a mere five minutes—he needed to get out of there. With his head in his hands, he sat on an unopened box filled to the brim with different assortments of candy—candy he needed to stock sometime today, a fact he surely couldn’t have forgotten even if he tried. Only two minutes into his escape, Robin came bounding in the backroom, a wild look grazing her eyes.

“Steve,” she nearly panted. “You gotta take over for a minute. This woman is just—ugh—not taking no for an answer! I told her we don’t have The Breakfast Club in stock, but oh no, why trust the employee who rented all ten copies earlier today? Huh? How about we give the girl who makes a little over three bucks an hour a hard fucking time!” Robin was rambling at this point, the words falling deaf on Steve’s ears.

“Robs,” Steve groaned, finally looking up at his friend. “Give me another minute, I have a nasty headache—”

“Me too, Harrington,” Robin sighed, plopping down on the box next to him. “Her name’s probably Debra and she’s a beast in fake leopard print.”

Steve snorted with laughter. “Fine, I’ll head back out there,” he stood up, dramatically dusting off his jeans. “I just don’t know why the hell our help wanted sign hasn’t brought in more folks, we’re dying out here.”

“No one wants to work for Keith,” Robin said simply.

“Damn straight,” Steve pointed, pushing his way back onto the sales floor. The leopard printed demon was nowhere to be seen, much to Steve’s utter relief—he didn’t have the energy to fight her off anyway. Finding his way behind the counter, the doorbell rang out, a pavlovian response nearly spilled from Steve’s lips. “Welcome to Family Vid—”

His heart stopped.

She was gorgeous, like she just stepped out of a magazine ad—the one’s his mom bought, not the trashy shit they sell down at the gas station. Sunglasses adorned her temple like a crown, her hair perfectly falling around the pink lenses. Steve didn’t know what to say, it felt as if he simultaneously forgot all the words in the English language and stuffed seventeen Saltines in his mouth—he was tongue tied.

“Uh, hi,” the girl said softly, waving towards the frozen spectacle behind the counter. “I saw you have a help wanted sign outside?”

Steve could only nod, making a good effort to keep his jaw from falling on the floor. 

“Well,” she smiled, the kind that would make babies giggle at the sight, “I just moved here and sorta need a job so…” A resume was placed on the counter before him. It looked professional—way more than what Family Video could ever hope to ask for from an applicant, anyway. Steve couldn’t stop reading it. She was literally an angel, an answer to his very prayers—every one of them. If he had the power to hire her on the spot, he’d be tossing her a green vest from the back without a second thought. Part of him was cursing the fact Keith wasn’t here to interview her this very second, he needed to get to know this girl. 

“I-I…” Steve tried to speak, feeling his cheeks grow inflamed with embarrassment. He wasn’t used to being so… foolish around a girl.

“Steve, is it?” 

She knew his name. 

Of course he knew she read it off his name tag, he wasn’t that thick, but hearing it come straight from her lips? He could have melted directly into the floor and no one could have stopped him. 

“Yeah, this doofus here’s Steve, I’m Robin,” Robin appeared by his side, seemingly in the knick of time. “Don’t worry about him, we’re getting him the help he needs.”

The mystery girl giggled. “Ah, I see.”

“You want to apply here?” Robin asked, prying the resume from Steve’s—reluctant—hands. “Oh thank God, we’re dying for more bodies around here.”

“I love movies,” she explained quickly, noting how intently Robin was reading over her simple paper. “A-and I used to work at a movie theater back home before moving here, so I know a lot about the recent releases—”

“I’m gonna be honest,” Robin said, leaning onto the counter, voice dripping with secrecy. “You’re probably too good for this place, I mean, way too good for this shit-hole—”

“I need a job,” she repeated, almost desperately. “My folks forced me to move here and I’m trying to save up to get my own place back in Chicago, I’m not built for this small-town bullshit.”

This made Robin explode with laughter and Steve shrivel in despair. She had an expiration date—a way out of Hawkins.

“Well, I’ll make sure to pass this off to our manager—with a glowing recommendation, of course,” Robin winked.

“I appreciate it!” She smiled again, the sight nearly had Steve wishing he had his own pair of sunglasses to wear—it was blinding. “Well, I hope to see you guys around?”

“We’ll be here!” Robin called out, watching the girl walk back towards the door and out towards her car. A hand smacked across Steve’s bicep. 

“Hey!” He finally responded, rubbing the aforementioned spot. “What the hell?”

“I should bring that whiteboard out of retirement,” Robin arched her brow. “You’re positively hopeless, Steve Harrington. What the fuck was that all about?” 

“I don’t know, Robs,” Steve sighed. “She was just—I didn’t even know what to say!”

“Clearly,” she snorted. “You looked like a gaping trout—”

“I did not—”

“This was worse than the girl who asked for a Mint-Choco Deluxe and you handed her a straight scoop of ice cream—no cone. I had to practically chase her out with a stack of napkins and a thousand apologies.”

Steve cringed at the memory. “Maybe…”

“When Keith hires her—and you know he’s gonna—you better get your act together. I don’t wanna deal with…this every day.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve waved. “Sure.”

And deal with it, she did. 

(Y/N) was her name, Steve had the pleasure of unpacking her new name tag for her first day. He almost wanted to keep it, but figured it would make him look like a crazed lunatic. Patiently, he waited by the front door, hoping to see her pull up in her car, ready and rearing for her first day on the job. Steve begged Robin to allow him the pleasure of training her, given he could somehow speak in her presence, of course. She simply rolled her eyes and agreed to the shift exchange. 

A shiny, cherry-red BMW peeled into the lot—Steve noted it looked awfully familiar to his own car, minus the color of course. It seemed a bit out of place in a small town like Hawkins, but the car had suited her just fine. Everything about her suited her kindly, Steve had noticed, especially the clothing she wore. Family Video was no place for a fashion show, Steve could attest to that himself, but with the way she was practically strutting towards the doors? The parking lot was her runway and he was begging to see more. 

“Good morning!” (Y/N) greeted cheerfully, pushing the glass door open wide.

“Morning,” Steve managed to squeak out. He pushed the unflattering green vest towards her. “Your uniform.” She easily slipped the fabric over her own shirt, the stark whiteness of her blouse really made the green pop.

“Well?” She spun around, twirling like a princess. “Do I look the part?”

Steve could only nod. 

“So what’s the first thing on the agenda? Do y’all have a time clock?”

Steve nodded again, pointing his thumb towards the break room.

“Ok..ay…” She said quietly, walking in the direction she was given.

He could cry—it was so pathetic. The way this girl had him so worked up? How was he expected to train her? No, forget training her, how was he supposed to even talk to her? Steve had been in pickles before, but this one took the cake.

“So you just… don’t speak then?”

She had managed to sneak up behind Steve, who had clearly been deep in thought. Her angelic voice alone made him jump. 

“I-I speak,” Steve explained. “I just… have a lot on my plate currently, s’all.”

“I’m sure working at the Family Video is real hard work, superstar,” she giggled, jumping up onto the countertop. “But I’m glad I don’t have to understand your training through charades."

“I’m pretty good at charades,” Steve said, crossing his arms. “O-or so I’m told…”

“I’ll take your word for it,” she smiled. “But seriously, I really thought you just didn’t want to talk to me or something.”

That couldn’t have been farther from the truth. 

“So… I should probably show you the computer system for rentals,” Steve tried changing the subject—poorly, but she graciously turned her attention to the computer she so-conveniently sat next to. “Y’know, because that’s like, the entire job.”

The girl leaned in, not daring to remove herself from the counter top, trying to see what Steve was clicking on. 

“You seem tense,” she noticed. 

“It takes me a while to get warmed up to new people,” he lied. 

“What? Like a cat?”

“…exactly like a cat.”

“Well, Steve,” she hopped off the counter, “it’s a good thing I like cats.”

He tried his best to hide the redness flooding his cheeks.

She made Family Video more enjoyable, even after her first shift, Steve thought. He already liked the job enough, spending time with his best friend and getting paid for it was already a huge perk, but now that he got to know her? He might just keep this job forever.

Forever lasted only four months. 

“Steve!”

He peeked his head over the horror aisle, finding (Y/N) staring at him expectantly from the front counter. 

“Yes?”

“I’m dying over here,” she said dramatically, falling over on the countertop. “It’s so… boring.”

“It’s a Monday morning,” Steve said simply, commanding every fiber in his being to not shrug at the statement. “Mondays are usually boring around here.”

“Everything about Hawkins is boring,” she said, not lifting her face up from the counter. “How do you manage living in this God-forsaken town?”

“I don’t think everything is boring,” Steve scoffed, ignoring the rest of the tapes that needed to be put away. His feet were already leading him towards the counter, as if they had a mind of their own. “I mean, I doubt you’ve run through everything this town's got to offer?”

She lifted her head up from the counter, a red mark gracing her forehead. “In the last four months of living here? I think I have. Hell, the one cool place y’all could have had burned to the ground.”

Steve winced at the mention of StarCourt, the wounds still fresh. “It wasn’t that cool…”

“Fine,” (Y/N) propped herself up, head in her hands, “name one cool place in Hawkins.”

“Skull Rock.”

He doesn’t know why he said it.

“Skull Rock?”

“Uh, yeah,” Steve sheepishly said, hand finding the back of his neck quickly. “It’s the go-to for the coolest kids in Hawkins—made popular by yours truly.”

“And what exactly is Skull Rock?” Her arms were neatly crossed by the time he managed to look back at her. 

A make-out spot.

“A-an… experience?” Steve squeaked, trying his best to sound cool. “It’s hard to explain, you just kinda gotta go and see for yourself.”

“Huh,” she tutted. “Why haven’t I heard of this Skull Rock until now? Certainly if it was as neat as you say it is I would’ve heard about it by now.”

“It’s underground,” Steve tried to convince her. “Not physically, I mean. It's above ground, I promise. Underground in the sense that only the cool kids know about it.”

She snorted. “Cool kids?”

“Y-yeah,” He tried to double down.

“As in, like, high schoolers?”

“Other people besides high schoolers can be cool kids, y’know,” Steve said, trying his best not to cough. 

“Maybe I’ll ask Robin about it when she comes in—”

“I could take you?” Steve is quick to interject. “To Skull Rock, I mean. Tonight, if you’re free.”

A smile crept across her ruby red lips. “Like a date?”

“Pshht, no,” Steve waved. “Like a thing friends do! An activity of sorts.”

“Sounds like a date.”

“An activity,” Steve corrected, feeling queasy at the thought she may actually say yes. 

As if mulling over her options for the evening, (Y/N) stared directly into Steve Harrington’s brown eyes, pinning him to the spot with such a glare. “Hm. Alright.”

“A-alright?”

“Do you think I have to change for this ‘activity’?” (Y/N) motioned her hands up and down her body, giving Steve actual permission to fully look at her. Her outfit was already sensible enough—she was here to work, after all—he didn’t ever see a reason for her to change.

“Maybe different shoes?” Steve offered, looking down at her feet, adorned with ruby red flats to match her lips. 

“What sort of shoes do you recommend? These are my favorite flats.”

“Sneakers. Something you don’t mind getting dirty—”

“I don’t mind getting these dirty.”

“Something more suitable for the forest,” Steve amended. “Sticks, mud, poison ivy. Would hate for the tops of your feet to succumb to that bullshit.”

“Succumb,” (Y/N) repeated. “Big word.”

“Average word,” Steve mumbled, feeling only a tad bit embarrassed.

“Average is fine,” she shrugged. “I have sneakers in my car. We could go after work?”

—

Six o’clock couldn’t have come faster. 

Steve had spent the last few hours of his shift trying to best plan his escape from Family Video—an escape that involved pulling (Y/N) into his car before Robin could tell her what Skull Rock really was. Thankfully, (Y/N) hadn’t had the mind to tell Robin what their plans were after work yet, but he knew it would come.

The minute hand finally ticked to the top of the clock. 6pm on the dot. Steve practically threw off his vest and ran to the wall clock to punch out.

“In a rush?” Robin asked. 

“Something like that,” Steve said, not wanting to share much more. 

“Well, enjoy yourself Rob!” (Y/N) nearly sang, now standing behind Steve waiting for her turn with the wall clock. “I left the counter nice and warm for you!”

“I know you meant that to sound endearing, but it just sounds gross,” Robin laughed, not even looking up from the book she had been reading. “Get out of here before Keith makes you both work overtime.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” (Y/N) said, pushing her pink sunglasses—which were housed in the tiny locker she used every day—onto her head. “Besides, we’ve got plans.”

“We?”

“Gotta go Robin!” Steve could only shout, pushing (Y/N) out of the small room in the back—it could hardly be called a break room. Containing a small T.V on the wall, a stack of lockers, a small fridge, quaint table and a broken microwave.

“Alright, weirdo,” (Y/N) laughed, “we made it outside.”

Steve hand only blinked, but she was right. Somehow he didn’t recall the jaunt from the break room to the front door, much less the fact they made it out to their cars. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” she laughed again, “oh.”

He was sure his face was the near same color as her lipstick—cherry red and probably emitting the heat of a thousand suns. “Are you gonna change your shoes?” Somehow he strung together a full sentence.

“Go start up your car, pretty boy,” (Y/N) said smoothly, “I’ll meet you in a second.”

Pretty boy. 

Start up his car, he did. He fumbled through the few cassette tapes he stored in his glove box, eager to find one she’d like. Though a thought like this had crossed his mind a handful of times, he never thought she’d actually agree to go out with him. No, not go out, this wasn’t a date. Right? 

She had called him pretty boy. 

And he was planning on taking her to the unofficial make out spot of Hawkins. 

Maybe it was a date. 

“There!” (Y/N) exclaimed, sliding into his passenger seat, showing off her worn shoes. “My well-loved sneakers! Just like you requested. How I allowed you to talk me into going to a random forest is beyond me.”

Me too. Steve thought. 

“You’re not going to murder me, right?”

“What!?” Steve had already begun driving to their destination, but her sudden question had him nearly swerving off the road. “No!”

“That’s what a murderer would say.”

“I—why would I…?” Steve was at a loss for words. “If I was going to murder you, don’t you think I’d admit to it at this point?”

“No,” she shrugged, crossing her legs. Her sneakers were red too—her favorite color, perhaps? “I assume you’d admit it right before you kill me, not in transit to the murder location.”

Steve could only laugh. “You confuse me.”

“You love me,” she admonished. 

Maybe he did, and if he didn’t? He certainly could see himself, though, sooner than later. 

It only took another fifteen minutes of driving to reach their destination, parking his beloved BMW in a spot he knew all too well—part of himself cringed that he could admit that, even to just himself. “We’re here.”

“I’m still not convinced you’re not going to murder me,” (Y/N) hummed, hopping out of the car, a spring in her step. 

He couldn’t help but chuckle, popping his trunk to dig for a blanket he knew he had left behind for one reason or another. “Come on,” he ducked his head towards a clearing, “it’s this way.”

“You really have to start explaining the appeal, Harrington,” (Y/N) said, pushing past a rather suspicious looking bush, following closely behind Steve. “This trek is nothing to scoff at.”

“Do you trust me?”

“I thought the murder accusations already confirmed that I did not?”

“Yet you still got into a car with me,” Steve said.

“I still got into a car with you,” she repeated. 

As if on cue, Skull Rock, in all of its glory, peeked through the brush and into view—thankfully with no one else around. 

“We made it!” Steve exclaimed, nearly impressed he remembered how to get here. Quickly unfurling the blanket he grabbed, he sat on the ground. “Come on, I promise it’s clean.”

“Doubting that,” she said, still sitting beside him. “So, spill it, what makes this place so cool?”

Steve took a deep breath. 

“I, uh, may have stretched the truth a bit?”

“How far?”

“Huh?”

“How far did you stretch the truth?”

“Not by much…”

“You’re sweating,” she pointed. 

“No I’m not!” Steve said, trying his very best to not look down at his pits, afraid they were betraying him. Looking back up at the girl sitting beside him, her ruby lips were twisted in a wicked smirk. “You’re making fun of me.”

“Nah,” she said, almost sounding honest. “But I also know pretty well what goes on around this rock—sick as fuck, by the way, it really looks like a skull.”

“You know about Skull Rock?” He was nearly dejected, embarrassed, even.

“I do.”

“And you still came here with me?”

“If it meant I could spend some time with you outside of work? Sure,” she said with her brilliant smile. “Though, don’t expect any swapping of saliva.”

“Then why…?”

Her knees tucked under her chin, arms wrapped fully around them. “I don’t have many friends here. You and Robin kind of are it for me, at least, since I moved here. I figured I should try and spend time with y’all before I move again.”

Her big move. The one she was saving up for. 

“Back to Chicago, right?”

She nodded. “Yeah. Though, it’s going to be a while until I do actually move. Who knew trying to rent your own apartment in a big city is stupid expensive? Wait—don’t answer that, that’s a stupid fucking observation.”

“It’s a bit silly,” he agreed, trying his best not to laugh. “But, yeah, way more expensive than Hawkins.”

The sun had begun to set, not that they could see it, through the trees and all, but the sky was now a warm orange. The kind of color that reminded Steve of summer, melted creamsicles and sweet memories.

“What’s in Chicago, anyway?” Steve finally asked, eyes glued to the sky. The question had been on the tip of his tongue since he met her. “I mean, I never really hear you talk much about it—only when you feel the need to dig at Hawkins.”

“It’s where I grew up,” she shrugged. “All of my friends are out there, my life is out there.”

“I mean, you did just say Robin and I were your friends?” He offered, leaning back on his hands. 

She narrowed her gaze, pulling her head up from her knees ever-so-slightly. “Most of my friends are out there,” she corrected. “I just… my dad moved out here for work, a job he literally can’t tell us about—my mom is stuck being some bored housewife waiting every night for him to come home, slaving over a home cooked meal, and I’m just his failure of a daughter who works at a video store.”

Steve knows that feeling a bit too well. 

“It doesn’t even have to be Chicago,” she chuckled, mostly to herself. “I just can’t stay here. My forward thinking mind is too big for this town. I figure, maybe in the city I can find myself, figure out what this planet has in store for me, you know?”

“I do.”

“You do?”

“I mean, I never had the thought to leave Hawkins,” Steve said, still looking up at the sky—darker now, but still orange. “Especially now with all of the…”

How does he explain the Upside Down? Does he explain the Upside Down? No. She doesn’t need to know. Not yet, anyway.

“…you know, the missing people,” he finally said, finding the right explanation. “But the idea of going to a big city, finding my way and maybe figuring out what this big head is good for?” His self deprecating laugh echoed from under the large rock formation. “I get it.”

“Y’know,” (Y/N) relaxed her grip on her knees, “my mom had hesitations about moving here because of the missing people—afraid I was going to go missing too.”

“And your dad still moved you here anyway?” Steve still couldn’t wrap his head around the fact people would move here willingly, especially all that’s been in the news about their small town. 

“I told you, big secret job,” she said, as if that was the only answer. “My dad’s answer to the problem was buying my mom a new kitchen set and me a car.”

“The BMW?”

“Hell yeah,” she snorted. “Though I suppose once I get to the city—any of them, I’ve decided—I’ll sell it. No need for a car if you’ve got decent public transit. I wonder how much I can get for it?”

“Probably less than what you’re thinking.”

“You’re probably right.”

The sun had finally set, leaving a hazy, sort of mystical hue over the rock and clearing. 

“You could come with me, you know,” (Y/N) finally spoke up. 

“Huh?”

“Get out of Hawkins? Lord knows I’d need a roommate. Rent is gonna be insane regardless.”

He pondered the thought. Moving out of this God-forsaken town with practically the girl of his dreams? It sounded too good to be true. “Huh.”

“You obviously don’t have to answer right now,” she said, nearly flustered. Was she flustered? “It was just a dumb thought…”

“It’s not dumb,” he said steadily, truthfully. “Not dumb at all.”

“What? You’re actually considering it?”

“Don’t ask me things if you’re not serious about them,” Steve joked, pointing at her. “I mean, it sounds pretty perfect. Leaving Hawkins, making a way for myself, trying to not rely on my parents… I dunno. Something to think about.”

She only nodded.

“Of course, I can’t leave yet,” Steve corrected, mostly to himself. “I have… unfinished business.”

“Ominous,” she snorted. 

“A man has his secrets,” he smirked, turning to look at her. “Not murder-y secrets, I really can’t stress that one enough.”

“Handsome, funny and mysterious, the full package,” she hummed.

“You think I’m handsome?”

“I don’t want to stroke your ego,” (Y/N) said. “Surely you know you’re handsome.”

“I didn’t know you thought I was handsome.”

“I think everyone thinks you’re handsome,” her eyebrow raised. “Especially all those girls who come in to rent movies I know for a fact they have no interest in. Robin says you had a similar effect back at the ice cream place.”

“You’ve talked to Robin about my handsomeness?”

“I’ve talked to Robin about your obliviousness,” she corrected, “I think there’s a difference.”

He felt like his brain was melting. If he had a mirror, he’d check his ears to make sure no pink matter was dripping out. “But you think I’m handsome?” If the lighting hadn’t been as low as it was, he’d probably be able to see just how dark her cheeks had become.

“Irrelevant.”

He found the courage to scoot a little closer to her. “I mean, I think it’s pretty relevant… considering I think you’re pretty handsome too.”

Her head couldn’t have turned faster.

“Beautiful! I meant beautiful! Not that you can’t be handsome,” Steve felt himself choking on his own foot, falling deeper into a hole he knew he couldn’t get out of. “If you’d rather be called handsome, that’s fine by me, but traditionally, you’re stunning—so so pretty and I—”

“Steve—”

“A-and I’m messing this up,” Steve deflates. The crickets around Skull Rock must have been paid actors at this point. Steve made a mental note to bring a can of Raid the next time he came here—revenge of some sorts. “I can’t believe I’m messing this up.”

Something slightly wet touched his cheek.

“I don’t think you’re messing anything up,” (Y/N) said, pulling away from his face. She kissed his cheek. “I think you’re a little silly and overthinking a lot, though.”

“You kissed me?”

“I kissed your cheek, no need to short-circuit,” she smiled softly. “I figured it was a good way to bring you back down to Earth. Did it work?”

He nodded, a bit too fast for his liking. “Uh, yeah. I think so.”

“Good,” she said, so sure of herself. “You were really spiraling there for a moment.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, I guess I was.”

More crickets. 

“Would you have kissed Robin on the cheek? If she was spiraling like that?”

“No,” she said honestly. “Just you.”

“Oh.”

“You took me to the make-out spot of Hawkins,” (Y/N) gestured to the rock above them. “Did you expect me to not kiss you?”

“You kissed my cheek,” he clarified, feeling bolder. “I don’t think that counts.”

“Hm,” she tapped her chin in faux-thought. “It probably doesn’t.”

“I could let you try again?”

“Oh you’d let me?” She crossed her arms, voice airy, light.

“Or I could kiss you,” he shrugged. “Dealers choice.”

“Oh what endless options I have,” she laughed, getting up from the blanket. It was only a little scratchy. “Come on, pretty boy, it’s getting late. My mom is probably worried sick I haven’t made it home yet. Probably waiting by the front window with some terrible dinner in the oven, I assume.”

She offered her hand, helping Steve up off the ground. “You’re probably right.”

“This was nice,” she said, walking back to the car. “Thanks for taking me out here, Steve. I finally found the one good thing in Hawkins.”

“Skull Rock is just that impressive, huh?” Steve laughed, his smile reaching his eyes.

“Something like that,” her smile was just as big. 

--

BONUS: “Pop your trunk, I’ll put this nasty blanket away,” (Y/N) said, circling to the back of Steve’s car.

“It’s not that nasty,” he snorted, fulfilling her request. Climbing into his car and starting up the engine, he waited for her to throw the scrap of fabric in the back. In the corner of his eye, he could see her through the mirror, staring intently at the contents of his trunk. “How long does it take to put a blanket away?” He sighed, hopping back out of the car to join her, realizing quickly why she was just staring in his trunk. 

“Y’know,” she clicked, “this doesn’t really help the whole ‘I’m not gonna murder you’ thing.”

In her hands was his tried and true baseball bat—still outfitted with spiky nails and the very essence of dried blood. 

“I-I can explain—”

“You probably can,” she said, throwing the bat back into the trunk, slamming it shut. “How about over dinner sometime?”

He’d be stupid to say no.

[xxcherrydevilxx]

Fuck Away the Pain

— Dazai x femreader x Chuuya

— Warnings: NSFW (obvi) angsty smut, rough sex, minors dni

— Summary/Author Notes: never wrote actual fanfiction and posted it on Tumblr before, listened to “fuck away the Pain” by Divide the Day and wanted to write about a playboy Dazai hurting the reader and making them go to Chuuya in desperation. I am a woman with simple wants. Sloppy writing and even sloppier editing due to never posting fanfic before. might write more if I get notes who knows 

— Word Count: 4615

— Afterthoughts: Truly wanted to make this porn with no plot to keep it short, ended up doing the exact fucking opposite. Am not reading this entire thing for the 7th time to check for spelling and grammar errors, please just feast. 

You were so fucking stupid. So, so, so fucking stupid.

Had you really thought Osamu Dazai would truly be yours? How fucking stupid could you even be? The pet names, the way he touched you, the gifts, sure they were nice but did you ever hear him really call you anything other than the usual “Belladonna”?

God what a fool you were, a stupid fool who fell in love with a man who knew he could wrap any man or woman around his finger. Laughable truly, that you thought you were the only one to ever know the embrace of Dazai, the only one to feel his tongue slip inside your mouth.

SO fucking stupid you were.

And that's how you found yourself, stumbling in your nice dress and even nicer heels down a dirty no-name road while the rain poured down on your sorry state. You had caught him, practically fucking another woman against the wall of the place he had asked you to meet up at weeks prior. You were too stunned to speak when you heard the soft moans and rough growls from a dimly lit alleyway, causing you to investigate out of stupid curiosity. 

When Dazai caught you out of the corner of his eyes he didn’t even drop the woman he was holding roughly against the brick wall, he just unlatched his lips from her bruised and marked neck to say he was busy and they'd “meet another time,” yeah, sure! you'd get right on that next meet-up after blocking his number and changing your locks.

Such a fucking idiot you were, why did you even get him a copy of your apartment key? What? You thought he would come and cozy up next to you, build a life with you? Ha, how rich of a thought.

Through your blurry vision, obscured by both your tears and the rain from the sky that seemed to mourn with you, a neon bar sign shone like a haven, a safe place to regain your composure somewhere warm and dry… And get fucking wasted so you couldn’t remember the look of the woman twitching and whining against Dazai once he had stopped biting her to give you a quick comment.

So, that's how you found your drenched self on a bar stool, knocking back shots of a burning whiskey and chasing it with another shot of sake to get you as drunk as possible. You were surprised the bartender had kept serving you after your fifth ask of liquor, you half thought they might have begun watering down the drinks to slow your intoxication. You didn’t mind, you kept drinking and kept thinking of your idiocy. 

He had played you so well, or maybe he knew you were so stupid that you wouldn’t ask questions about where he would run off to, or why you only saw him sparingly at times. At first, you just thought it was his work, he never outright said that but you had assumed it to be the truth because… because you were an idiot. 

Another shot, another whiskey, another sake, another whatever the hell was behind that bar.

“You’ll drink ‘im dry you know,” a voice had teased behind you. Making you snarl and whip your head around, your wet hair catching on your cheek and getting stuck against the still-cold skin. What a sordid state you must look like to the other patrons, but there were practically zero other clients except you and a few men out after dark. Couldn’t they tell you wanted to be left alone? That something was wrong for you to be drinking this much and that you just wanted to enjoy your liquor and get the hell out once you felt inebriated enough.

“I didn’t ask for commentary,” you fired back, your eyes catching on the figure that had spoken to you. What caught you by surprise was the man’s attire, and then after that the striking orange hair that framed his face. But what irritated you the most after you took in the arrogant man who wore such gaudy attire to match his personality was the smirk that played on his lips as he looked down upon you. 

“Well, then maybe don't get obscenely drunk in a public bar.” he had shot back with ease. Jesus fucking Christ couldn’t you drown your sorrows in peace? Why did every annoying man have to seek you out? 

“If you really think Mr. Bartender there is still serving me anything other than watered-down shots I’d have to say you are almost as dumb as me.” you hissed out at the man, giving him your meanest glare before turning back to your drinks. You had to admit, the buzz you were nursing didn’t seem to be growing any worse despite your best efforts. You could still see with perfect memory the image of your assumed-to-lover with another woman every time you closed your eyes. 

“Oh, good, at least you know you're stupid” -the man muttered under his breath as he took the empty seat next to you. Waving a hand to get the attention of the bartender- “I thought I would have to tell you that, then also tell you that dress of yours is really easy to see through after getting it wet.”

You wanted to strangle him. By god, you wanted to kill him with your own hands.

The best you could do though was throw your drink at him, soaking his expensive red vest that covered the white shirt underneath it. Now that seemed to get him pissed, and you relished in it. 

“Nobody ever teach you to leave drunkards alone?” you sneered, giving him a devilish smile as you watched him practically shortcircuit at your actions.

“And did nobody ever teach you not to mess with the Port Mafia, doll?” He snarled back. Quickly grabbing an excess amount of napkins to dab onto his vest to try and soak up any of the liquid so it wouldn’t stain his clothes any further. 

It took you more than a few seconds to register his words, and you hated to admit you only took in the pet name first before realizing the more dangerous term he spoke. 

The Port Mafia? That Port Mafia? The one Dazai always complained about and whined excessively regarding one of their executives. You didn’t even really care about it, sure you knew of them but in what world would you ever meet them? You strictly told Dazai you would never get in between his work life and personal life, somewhat for him but mostly for you. Because you saw how dangerous it could be, and you wanted to live relatively peacefully without worry of getting shot by some person with an axe to grind. And now you went and dumped your shot on one of their members? After trying so hard to remain surrounded in obscurity to never catch such a prolific gang's attention? 

God how fucking stupid could you be in one night.

He must have seen your face change to an ashen white after realizing what he had just uttered, and he let out a snort of amusement at it, which only furthered made you think you were going to get fucking killed, or at least go home missing a few teeth.

“Listen I- I didn’t know how could I- I mean-” you started to ramble before being caught off by a cock of his head and the furrow of his eyebrows.

“Because you're practically in our territory?” he replied, his voice oozing with annoyance after realizing how dumb you truly were. 

“I- listen dude I had a hell of a rough night please I'm sorry I’ll- I’ll get your dry cleaning or whatever the hell you want just let me pay my bill and leave.” you began to plead. Groveling was all you knew in an instance such as this, and you hoped he would show kindness... Who are you kidding when had the Port Mafia been known for Kindness? 

He scoffed at you, “Dry cleaning? A rough night? Does it look like I give a shit, doll?” you practically flinched at his words. Of course, this wouldn’t work, his clothes probably cost a fortune anyhow. You could never afford the bill, or even afford to pay him back for the ruined clothes. You were going to die, he would pull a gun on you and shoot you in the head, painting the walls a sickeningly red color. 

“Chuuya… give her a rest, you knew better.” the bartender’s gruff voice murmured as he sat a glass down in front of him. Wait- Chuuya? Chuuya? Like the executive, Dazai always groaned about? 

“Chuuya?” you oppugned, somehow finding your voice to ask the pissed-off man a question. He scowled at you once he heard you speak.

“Chuuya as in like- one of the executives from the Port Mafia?” you asked dumbly. Your heart skipping a beat as the man’s eyes seemed to light ever so slightly at the recognition.

“Well how ‘bout that, at least you seem to know something doll,” he replied, a hint of satisfaction in his voice. His eyes held on you for a heartbeat, before he shrugged off his long black coat to hang over your shoulders. You startled at the action, instinctively leaning backward once his hands reached out towards you.

“I really did mean what I said,” he muttered. Taking a swig of his drink as his cheeks flushed slightly and he averted his gaze from you. 

You cocked your head in confusion; what did he say again? That he was in the Port Mafia, that you were stupid, that your dress-

You pulled the coat tightly around yourself, acutely aware of how the soaked fabric clung tightly to your skin. How long had you sat there while your dress only further soaked your skin to ice? How long could people see what was hidden under the cloth? Why did you only realize now?

“Thanks.” you begrudgingly muttered to the cocky ginger. Your hand snaking out of the oddly comforting warm coat to grab the abandoned glass in front of you to drag to your lips. He dipped his head as if to let you know he heard you and continued to drink.

Both of you stayed like that for a while. Nursing your own drinks side by side as the rain continued to come down loudly outside. The space between you both on the barstools was as tense as you were being in his coat. You absently thought “What would Dazai think?” if he knew you were here, drinking in the dead of night with a man he would spit obscenities about when he talked of work. What would he think if he knew you were draped in his coat, that you were trying to discretely peek over at him? Taking in his figure and his face... Which now that the smug smirk was wiped off it seemed strikingly handsome under the bar lights. 

“Why the rough night.” he had asked. His voice broke the silence as if it were a crack of lightning coming down right where he sat. You jumped slightly at it, turning your head fully this time to look at him. You could tell he was looking at you from the corner of his grey eyes, and you swallowed hard as you willed your voice to work. 

“This… guy I was seeing,” you made sure to leave Dazai’s name out, not wanting to put a warrant on your head if Chuuya disliked him as much as Dazai did. “I caught him with another girl. It’s not like we were official or anything it just- stung.. Made me feel like a fool” you mumbled into your drink, your lips playing on the rim of the crystal glass as you waited for Chuuya to also call you a fool, or to laugh at your sad love story. But he remained quiet, only turning to give you his full attention-

God, either you were more drunk than you were aware or the man you dumped a drink on was shockingly attractive. 

You wished you could go back and make a better impression, wondering if instead of falling for Dazai you could have fallen for him. Would he have treated you better? Or were he and Dazai the sides of the same coin? Knowing your abysmal luck it was probably the latter.

“That's rough.” was all he responded. His eyes were still on you as you stared down into your half-empty glass. 

“Ha, no... I should have expected as much,” you laughed. Your voice took on a tinge of sadness as you recounted again, for the millionth time, the sight of the man you once loved having another girl pushed up against a wall. 

And what was even worse than that memory was all the other ones. The good memories, laying with Dazai tangled in your sheets as he rubbed circles in your back. The smell of morning coffee that he would bring to you as you lay in bed. The soft kisses he would plant on your face when he had to leave.

Your eyes were getting misty and you rubbed harshly at them, hating the fact you were beginning to tear up again. You didn’t want to cry- wouldn’t- over a man like him. You wouldn’t give him another thought, you would wash him from your brain and never think of how his brunette hair fell lazily over his eyes, how he smiled at you when he saw you waiting for him-

Who were you kidding? You couldn’t stop thinking of him. He plagued your mind this entire time as you had sat next to Chuuya. The only time your brain paused its replays of Dazai was when you had gotten into a petty argument before knowing who the man next to you was. 

“I can take your mind off it.” his words hung in the space between you both. as his eyes continued to drink you in, their half-lidded look making you want to sink into his arms. You were already getting too wound up, he probably didn't mean that sexually… of course not, you were crazy. You had thrown a drink on him and called him stupid and you didn’t even know who he was before the bartender said his name. How could he possibly want you?

He wanted you. You found that after taking up on his offer and following him out into the rain. His coat still snugly wrapped around your form. You half expected to go back to his place to drink more, this time without the annoyance of a bartender keeping you from getting fully drunk. You were surprised when he gently pushed you against the wall of the bar outside, his lips finding yours and softly kissing them. Your breath hitched and you looked up into his silver eyes as the rain poured down on the both of you, wetting your lips with your tongue you willed him to kiss you again. Your mind frayed and the buzz you had, added on with the kiss from the handsome Chuuya had made you forget almost everything from the morning prior with Dazai. 

He seemed to read your expression with ease, this time hungrily taking your lips for himself. his tongue slipping inside your mouth to explore. You pressed your body flush against him, the rain making both of you practically stick together. You focused entirely on this kiss, this moment, the rain, and the feeling of his hands on your hips. The way his tongue slid over yours, the way he kissed so much differently in comparison to Dazai. 

He bit your bottom lip gently before pulling away to look at you with eyes filled with desire and lust, it made you weak to your core and your knees practically jelly.

He had taken you back to his place, where? You didn’t really care to know. All you cared about was the way his hands explored your icy skin with slow purpose as you stumbled beside him. You itched to get to a bed, to peel off your wet clothes and for him to be atop you, his hands taking you roughly instead of the unhurried pace he took as he led you to his home.

Once you had made it to his bed, the covers velvety red and unmade you practically felt yourself give out. This is what you needed, this is so desperately what you needed after such a shitty night. A handsome man, a soft bed, and your mind to be overtaken by the thought of pleasure.

Now that you were splayed across the sheets, your wet clothes discarded in a heap by the bedroom door, and with Chuuya kissing his way down your body as if to warm you up from the cold, all you wished for was for him to hurry it up. The teasing was torturous, his tongue and lips taking such a languid approach to the way your body responded to his touch. He wanted to test out seemingly every way he could give you pleasure without actually letting you ride that high. Massaging your thighs that rubbed together to gain some type of relief. The way you yelped when his teeth bit into your breast. The way he watched your face like a hawk as he maneuvered himself to be between your wet and hot thighs. The way his stare bore into you made you flush even more and your core tighten, trying to hide your face in the sheets. His hand quickly snaked up your body to grab you by the chin and turn your face back to him. 

“Watch me, doll.” his voice was thick with want. You could feel the heat rolling off him against your sex as his eyes flickered down to the slick heat between your legs. Just like before his tongue was painstakingly slow as he licked his way up to your sensitive clit, before he pulled away to watch how such a small amount of stimulation made you shake and your breath come out fast and ragged. You whined insistently as you moved your hips as if asking him to go back between them. Chuuya chuckled at your antics, placing one hand on your hip to still your movement. 

“You’re quite needy, yknow?” he teased. His hand rubbed soft circles into your hip, which made you instinctively think of Dazai and his rough hands being so gentle on your skin. You blinked back fresh hot tears as the unwanted memory surfaced and you heaved out a shuddering breath. Raising your upper half to look at Chuuya with serious determination, you could tell it caught him off guard as he stilled his petting on your hips and waist. 

“Not that. None of that. Make me” -you licked your lips as your breath caught in your throat- “Make me forget, Chuuya.” you pleaded, and you could see something snap in the ginger as his name left your lips with passion.

He got to quick work of making sure you forgot anything and everything to do with your past lover. His tongue and lips worked wonders on you as you moaned his name and rolled your hips against his face. His breath was hot against your skin as he took your sensitive clit into his lips and gently bit down on the bundle of nerves, making you see stars and your voice choke out a strangled moan as you came on his face. Your chest heaved quick and fast, trying to find a moment of reprieve from your intense climax from all the edging Chuuya had given to you before your hasty request.

The rest was short-lived as his body hovered above yours, his hands digging into your skin as he let out a ragged breath. His hair was a mess, his lips covered in you and his chest heaving in tandem with yours. His hands, which had surely given your waist bruises from the force he held you down into the mattress, moved to take out his thick cock that was slick with his precum. Your breath hitched at the sight, your eyelashes fluttering as you took in the sight. Chuuya could tell the sight of him turned you on more than before, and it made him let out a shuddering groan as he moved his hand lazily up and down the shaft, trying to quell his own needs. 

“Now- ha- doll,” his breath came out fast as he pumped himself slowly as he took in your shaking form underneath him. 

“How much do you wish to forget?” he asked. His voice was gruff and shallow with want as he watched your face for a look of understanding. Your eyes were still on the twitching member in his hand, you wanted to touch it, to taste it, to see Chuuya come undone because of you and you alone. It took you a few minutes to register his words, and you only came back when he took his free hand to your throat and lightly pressed down as if trying to gain your attention back to him and his words. 

“Ah- uhm-” you shook your head slightly. You hadn’t heard him, you barely heard his ragged breath because your gaze was fixed on his cock.

“Repeat yourself against, Chuuya,” you asked. Which made the hand that was still gently wrapped around your throat squeeze it ever so tightly, eliciting a gasp from you before making your stomach tighten and your sex get even wetter at the feeling.

“I know you’re” -he gritted his teeth to stop himself from moaning at the way you're shyly let out a moan as his hand gripped your throat- ”I know you’re fucking dumb, but when I speak I expect to be listened to.” You loved the way he spoke to you, the way his grip was getting ever so tighter around your throat. The way his eyes drilled into you.

“Yes- sorry- I just-” You let out a hiss of pain as his hand tightened even more, stopping you from finishing your sentence. 

“I don't want an apology,” he growled as he positioned himself at your entrance, his hand around your throat loosening ever so slightly as he took you in, the way he could feel your breath still in your throat because of how much you wanted him made him come undone. 

“I just want you to remember for next time,” he said roughly, before slamming his hips into yours with such ferocity it made your head snap back and your toes dig into the sheets to steady yourself. 

His pace was even more brutal, and his hand never left your throat. The free one found its way underneath your back to pull you closer to him as he thrusted into you with the speed of an animal. Your moans were fast and high pitched, the sweet feeling of pain and pleasure mixing together into one made tears prick the corner of your eyes. You felt him shift his weight and dip his head towards you, his hair tickling the side of your face as his tongue darted out to lap up your salty tears, making you moan out his name as you watched his eyes snap to your lips before devouring them. His pace never slowed, and the pressure on your neck never slackened. He was driving you mad, the lack of oxygen, the taste of his lips and the sound of his hips slamming against yours only made you chase your high. He muffled your high-pitched moans and cries, his teeth grazing your bottom lip as he continued to deprive you of air. You could feel the coil at the pit of your stomach tighten more and more with every different stimulation from the man on top of you. You felt yourself on the verge of snapping, tears pooling in your eyes before slipping down your hot face. Chuuya pulled away once again to lick up the tears that trickled down your face, his tongue sending chills down your spine as you finally gulped in air for your lungs.

“Atta girl,” he growled into your ear, and you felt that coil snap. 

You spasmed in his hold, and his mouth moved from your ear to your neck as he bit down harshly and somehow, god how you wished you knew, picked up an even faster pace as he helped your climax meet its fullest and deepest desires. Your legs wrapped around his waist, and your hands hastily came up to wrap around his back and dig your nails into his skin as you screamed until your voice was hoarse. 

Chuuya relished the sound, the way your entire body tensed and clung to him as if he was the only thing that could remedy the wild pleasure that shot through your body and filled your mind with delirious desires. He could feel his own climax approaching and he bit harder into your neck, tasting your blood as his ears were trained to the sounds you made. When you began to chant his name under your breath, was when his hips stuttered and he came inside of you. He fell on top of you, his hand slipping away from your throat to allow you to fully breathe in sweet oxygen after the torture you must have endured at your climax. He hazily looked at the mark he made on your skin, the small droplets of blood slipping down your skin as you gasped for air. He lazily licked around the wound and sucked the blood, waiting for you to come back to him and for you to say his name again.

He wanted to ask you to stay the night, he was sure you wouldn't be able to walk home anyway, and he was vaguely aware of the sound of rain still coming down outside. 

“Doll..” he cooed, rolling off you and onto his back. You moved your eyes to take him in, the way his eyes were hazy and unfocused, his hair even more wild than before, and the cocky smile he had on his lips at the sight of you… what you must look like to him.

“Hm?” was all you could muster out as a reply, still trying to regain your breath as your body still sporadically twitched from the aftershock of such an intense climax. 

“Stay the night… I can’t have you go back out in that rain,” he mumbled, his hand coming up to brush your hair away from your face. You leaned into his touch, you knew you told him at the start no softness... But now, you could hardly remember why you asked that in the first place.

“Mhm, sure, Chuuya,” you breathed, rolling closer into his embrace. He held you tight to his chest, which was slick with sweat. You could feel him fiddle with your hair absentmindedly. As you slowly closed your eyes, comforted by the feeling of his heartbeat and the soothing feeling of his hand in your hair, you suddenly remembered something he said. Your eyes popped open, and you pushed your hands onto his chest to hover your face above his. “Wait- Chuuya- did you say there would be a next time?” you asked, bewildered. His loud and sharp laugh echoed through the room and you blushed furiously at the idea of doing this again. But despite the embarrassment, you felt oddly happy that Chuuya wanted you again, and you were excited to take him up on the offer.

[wolfjackle-creates]

WIP Wednesday

So I'll be sharing a snippet from a different fic today! If I share anymore of Bring Me Home, I may as well just post the entire first chapter. (Which, I will be looking for a new job and hopefully moving in 2 months or so, so I'll probably try and start posting after that. Get another chapter or two written in the meantime.)

This fic is also from a prompt that was submitted by @regonold to @stealingyourbones. I did part of a collab fill previously, but the idea has been living in my mind rent free and I couldn't help but want to take it on more fully. I've written 5.5k and this snippet is just under 900 words.

----------

The formal gardens beyond the iron gate filled Danny with dread. Vlad’s mansion had looked like this, too. But Jazz had promised him, over and over again, that the Waynes were nothing like the Fruit Loop while begging him to come. Besides, he’d spent weeks making sure his schedule was clear and making deals to prevent any interruptions. No backing out now. With a sigh, he pressed the button for the intercom.

“Good evening, may I ask your business?” asked a man with a British accent.

“Um, yeah. Good evening.” Why was it so much harder to communicate with other people as human Danny than ghost Phantom? “Um, I’m Danny. Jazz’s brother?”

“Ah, yes. Of course. We’ve been expecting you. Follow the drive up to the house and welcome.”

Motors activated and the gates slowly opened. Danny started the trek up the long driveway. His anxiety wasn’t relived when he saw the manor with it’s dark stone facade and literal tower. If it was made of lighter stones, it could have been a copy of Vlad’s castle.

“This is for Jazz,” he muttered under his breath as he walked up the stairs. Before he could knock on the doors, they opened and Jazz ran out to hug him.

“Danny! Thank you so much for coming! How’ve you been? I know you’re busy, but you need to call me more often.”

Danny hugged her back tightly. “Sorry, Jazz. You know how I lose track of time. So where’s this famous Jason?”

A man stepped forward and started speaking, but hanging off his back was a ghost. The ghost of the dead Robin, to be exact. Shit.

At least the position of the ghost meant he appeared to be looking at probably-Jason. Even if he didn’t hear a word the man said. To make it worse, Robin realized he could see him and was sending out help-me trills.

Danny had to bite hard on his tongue to keep from vocalizing his own comforting chirps.

He was so focused on Robin that he almost didn’t notice probably-Jason holding out his hand to shake. Laughing self-consciously, he took it. “It’s great to finally meet you.”

The other man hesitated a moment and asked, “Is everything all right?”

But all Danny could focus on was Robin hanging off Jason’s shoulders and sending out happy-sad-helpless feelings. Danny relaxed the hold he had on his ghost self and tried to sense what was going on. But he had to reassure the human, too. “Yeah, I’m fine.” But wow, was Jason not. Where had he come into contact with such weird ectoplasm? It seemed to twist every emotion into anger and fear and violence.

Even worse was Robin. He was barely perceptible even to Danny’s enhanced senses.

Of course, Jazz was liminal enough to realize he was doing something. Quietly, she chirped a question.

Danny just shook his head and pulled back his power. “Later,” he murmured.

“I’ll hold you to that,” she said back, just as quietly.

Louder, Danny said, “Sorry. I just have bad memories about large manors like this. Has Jazz told you about Vlad?”

“He’s come up a time or two. With the black hair and blue eyes, someone will probably make an adoption joke at you before the night is over. But I’ll stab them if they do.”

Danny's laugh would have been much less forced had he not just felt the twisted anger inside probably-Jason. “Just don’t hit anything vital,” he said, hoping it sounded like a joke.

Robin rolled his eyes—and how could he do that so obviously with a mask on?—and tried to pull on Jason to lead him inside.

“Well, it might be summer, but Gotham is never warm. Come on in and I’ll introduce you to everyone,” said Jason.

Jazz grabbed his hand as they made their way inside where they were greeted warmly by an elderly gentleman.

“You must be Mr. Danny. Welcome to the Manor. I’m Alfred. Dinner will be served in one hour and please let me know if you need anything. Your sister stated you didn’t have any dietary restrictions?”

“What’s that?” Danny was trying not to stare at Robin who was now hugging the older man. Before Alfred could repeat himself, however, Danny’s brain caught up to the human conversation. “Oh, uh, no. I don’t. Jazz is right.”

“Very good. Can I take your coat and bag?”

Danny did shrug off his backpack, but only so he could also take off his coat. “Can I keep the bag? I don’t feel comfortable without it on me.”

“Very well.” Alfred hung the coat up on a rack right next to the door. “Master Jason, be sure to show him where the bathroom is on your way to join the others. Mr. Danny, there are plenty of drinks in the sitting room where everyone is relaxing should you need a refreshment.” And he finally had confirmation that this was Jason!

“’Course I will, Alfie.”

“Thanks,” said Danny, though he was more focused on the desperate chirps Robin was sending out.

I’m here-notice me-I love you.

Looks like he was breaking his promise to Jazz to not do any ghostly business tonight. Of course Jazz’s boyfriend would be haunted by a ghost that needed help. Why was he even surprised?

---------

As far as I know, there hasn't been a lot of requests for a tag list on this one. @addie-lover-of-stories is the only one I noticed. But let me know and I'll start one!

Next Part

[shuunnico]

I don’t follow you but I saw your skullgirls censorship post and it’s the stupidest thing ever. Doubt you even play the game you stupid fucking coomer, instead you throw a fit and act like everything is going to shit because some panties were removed. Fucking baby

Already said it multiple times.

The censorship is not just the panties. The changes include:

The Black Egrets having their armbands removed. The Egrets are an evil organization, meant to be reminiscent of the Nazis, and the removal of their Canopy Kingdom armband lessens that impact.

Big Band's story, wherein corrupt police nearly beat him to death, is toned down, making BB's story more sterile and makes the police corruption less severe in the story.

An announcer voice was removed. This was a crowdfunding stretch goal, which means the devs are removing content funded by the fans who made their game possible.

The artbook was edited. Guest art was removed. Black Egret concept art was edited to match their current look. Concept art serves as a snapshot of the creative process. By going back and revising the concept art, it ceases to be concept art.

Keep in mind, the art book is a separate digital purchase and a reward for the crowdfunding campaign. The devs, functionally, just took the art book you bought and tore pages out.

The panties are some of the least concerning things about the new batch of censorship. But even then, the game was crowd funded. The fanbase knew what it was and backed the game based on that. The devs are slowly stripping out aspects of the game the original backers funded.

As an artist and someone concerned about consumer rights, I feel like I need to point out how awful all of this is.

Nobody would permit the devs to come in and scribble over their physical copy of the artbook just because they wanted to make changes to it. Why should digital artbooks be any different? You paid for it, you should own it. This is just another step towards everyone lacking any and all digital ownership.

I find censorship to be concerning. Toning down darker tones, removing sexual elements, changing the original owner's visions. As an artist, I have to stand against censorship because, if I don't, eventually censorship will come for everything I enjoy and, then, finally my own art.

I lived through the 90s and 00s. I remember this exact same kind of censorship being forced on media back then too by Christian Conservatives. It was awful then too and I had hoped we, as a society, have moved beyond the censorship of art.

The fact that you thought this was just about panties just shows how uneducated you are on this subject. Your confidence is misplaced and you're defending the censorship of art and the erosion of digital rights.

Please, be better.

[adelaidedrubman]

some scattered thoughts on plagiarism and sharing creative space in good faith before i turn my phone off and walk into the swamp 

so, this is a post i have avoided making for well over a year now. because i have spent well over a year minimizing, excusing, and trying to convince myself that i’m crazy and just imagining things. even more so, convincing myself that it’s worthless to talk about, because even if i talked about it, no one would particularly care, and i would only cause myself more heartbreak by officially confirming that. 

but the past few days in fandom have dredged up a lot of things for me and made me reevaluate. i’ve found immense reassurance from seeing how ready and willing everyone is to band together to keep the community safe from those entering with the intent to copy the work of others rather than creating their own. i won’t lie, seeing that unity and mobilization on my dash was at times bittersweet when it was interspersed by reblogs from someone who’d plagiarized me. 

but i also took the opportunity to move past the hurt and remember this is a community — seeing others have the courage to come forward and talk about the plagiarism they’d experienced inspired me to open up to more and more friends in private about my own experiences, and i cannot describe to you how relieving it has been to find myself validated and supported. sincerely, to everyone who has lent me an ear over the past few days, i appreciate it more than you know. i’ve been brought to tears several times, and feel like i now have the strength to talk about this. 

this is also a post i have backspaced on several time, because. well. frankly it’s difficult to even allude to the vague category of most obvious thing that was stolen from me without this amounting to a de facto callout post, which isn’t my intention so much as getting out my feelings and hopefully opening a dialogue about the lasting harm plagiarism does. 

so. i’ll just start by saying one of the most hurtful things about plagiarism is that it destroys the implicit trust that everyone is entering a creative space in good faith. most of us don’t come into fandom and oc communities preemptively guarded and ready to go looking for instances of plagiarism, and are far more likely to perceive things as incidental overlap than malicious theft even under circumstances where the latter is more likely. personally, it didn’t even initially set off alarm bells for me when i saw an oc with jestiny’s exact design plus color contacts and terf bangs also sharing prominent symbolism utilized in her story. 

my first instinct was to be welcoming and supportive in the spirit of celebrating that creative minds can find inspiration from the same sources. even as the symbolism began less and less to in any way resemble the context of said source material and more and more to resemble the version of the story i told, increasingly picking up elements that weren’t in the original but were sure as hell in my fic. in fact, i went as far as to offer resources on the source material in hopes that it would motivate the person to dig into it and find a way to make it their own, still hoping this was a case of overstepping taking inspiration at worst. 

it was after pushing my goodwill that far and giving an out only to then see another of my most well-known scenes copied down to my exact wording and pacing that i got the nerve to block. 

and i was naïve enough to think that would actually end it — hurt as i was by what had already happened, at least it was over. 

nope. 

even after blocking, i went on to see the scraps of another of my most well known scenes lazily repackaged. (i can forgive ripping off jestiny, but i draw the line at sullying poor daniel’s memory. he’s been through enough.) in fact, it continued incessantly enough that i have had multiple people independently send me screenshots of the same passage from within the past month commenting on how blatant it is. 

it should go without saying what a violation this was of my boundaries and my creative labor. every single aspect of jestiny’s story is deeply personal to me, both because of the extensive effort i have put into researching and crafting it and because of the pieces of my own experiences and emotions its founded in. 

but more than that, what sticks with me is the violation of the implicit trust and vulnerability that comes with choosing to share a creative work. i stretched my benefit of the doubt to its limits at the expense of my own mental health, i assumed good faith and tried to make space, and when i could no longer endure i quietly isolated myself rather than risk sowing discord or simply being a bummer in a fun time space. it made me no longer feel safe sharing works that were especially personal. the pain of the experience was one of the primary reason i put wildfire on indefinite publishing hiatus despite still loving the story and greatly enjoying continuing to write it in private. 

still, after the past few days and my own slow process of opening up, i am beginning to develop a renewed hope that we can act as a community and look out for each other. i still genuinely want to think we can by and large share creative space in good faith, and that people coming forward will leave us more ready to identify and deal with bad actors when they do pop up. 

and i have hope that i can heal and find ways to be open and vulnerable with my work again. that might mean soon thinking critically about how to curate my fandom experience in a way that will minimize having plagiarism thrown in my face, but for now that’s still a problem for future liz. 

for today, i just want to thank anyone who has read this far (y’all know i’m bad at shutting up). i’m still not ready to be super detailed in public, but if anyone wants to know more about the 5 ws and 1 h, you’re welcome to dm me — although i might be slow to respond right now, because i wasn’t being hyperbolic with the title. i am going to be on a camping trip in the swamp the next few days, and might not be online much. 

i am excited to have the time to unplug and reflect, and look forward to coming back recharged. until then, please know i am so thankful for all of you, from the bottom of my heart. 

[thrifty-swiftie]

wonka gate: an examination of the parallels between wonka (2023) and sweeney todd (2007)

i saw wonka (2023) approximately 10 hours ago and since then i have been plauged by the film's nearly exact parallels to sweeney todd. over the past 10 hours, i have employed the help of my friend @orfisheus and we have successfully deconstructed every similarity between wonka and sweeney todd, though this post will specifically focus on the 2007 tim burton adaptation.

**SPOILER ALERT FOR BOTH FILMS. DO NOT READ AHEAD IF YOU DO NOT WANT SPOILERS!**

the simplest place to start is to introduce whom each of the wonka characters is trying to replicate. in my opinion, the most recognizable of these characters are mrs. scrubbit, portrayed by olivia colman, and mr. bleacher, portrayed by tom davis. these two are obviously trying to replicate sweeney todd/benjamin barker and his counterpart mrs. lovett. these two are recognizable by name alone, with "scrubbit" sounding extremely similar to "lovett" and "bleacher" sounding similar to "barker." however, the personalities of scrubbit and bleacher are nearly exact replicas of lovett's and sweeney's personalities. both sets of characters run "shops" that aim to harm the people coming in. one character, lovett in sweeney todd and bleacher in wonka, lures their victims in while the other, sweeney and scrubbit, do the actual harming. even from a non-theatre fan standpoint, the similarities between these characters is undeniably recognizable.

now, you may be asking "if scrubbit and bleacher are meant to represent the main characters from the original source material, why aren't they the main characters of wonka?" to that, i propose that we look at wonka as if it's the story of sweeney todd told by another character: anthony. timothée chalamet's wonka is almost a 1:1 copy of sweeney todd's anthony. both characters are dreamers and see the world in the best light possible despite all of the tragedy surrounding them. if you choose to view wonka as a story told through an anthony-esque character's perspective, the fun, colorful atmosphere of wonka feels less out of place than it did upon my initial viewing of the film. in a society where law enforcement and religion is corrupted by corporate greed, willy wonka still chooses to see the good in the world and the people in it, hence the film's upbeat and colorful atmosphere.

no anthony can be complete without a johanna, which willy wonka finds in noodle, the film's female lead played by calah lane. noodle, a supposed orphan (although, like with sweeney's johanna, the viewer finds out the true parentage of noodle later in the film), was taken in by the film's antagonists and is literally caged in by said antagonist. this directly mirrors johanna being trapped by turpin, sweeney todd's antagonist.

though the characters do not take a romantic interest in each other (which, let's be real, would be illegal) wonka and noodle form the same kind of bond that anthony and johanna did in sweeney todd. wonka rescues noodle from her cages multiple times throughout the film, just like anthony freed johanna. the duos care more about the wellbeing of their partner rather than the rest of the world and at the end of both films, the two sets characters both have happy endings.

in terms of minor characters, i would consider wonka's trio of chocolateers to be an extension of judge turpin, while keegan michael key's police chief character takes on the role of beadle.

as for plot parallels, the two films share many similar vital plot points, including quite literally opening in the exact same way. tim burton's sweeney todd film begins with anthony singing on a boat, while paul king's wonka opens with willy wonka singing on a boat. both sing about similar topics too, with wonka singing "after seven years of life upon the ocean... the city i've pinned seven years of hopes on lies just over the horizon... i've got twelve silver sovereigns in my pocket and a hatful of dreams" and anthony singing "i've sailed the world, beheld it's wonders... but there's no place like london." right off the bat, the viewer is exposed to the dreamer's perspective before the rest of society is shown.

not long after, wonka is brought to the shop of mrs. scrubbit and bleacher, where bleacher then attempts to club wonka. this could potentially serve as a callback to sweeney and his razors.

we meet noodle right after this. although noodle is most definitely the johanna stand-in of wonka, an argument could also be made for her representation of sweeney todd's toby. in the 2007 film, mrs. lovett takes toby in both out of usefulness and emotional attachment and she puts him to work in her shop as an assistant. like toby, noodle is taken in by mrs. scrubbit and put to work. however, mrs. scrubbit feels no emotional attachment at all towards noodle, hence why her name is scrubbit, a pun regarding her profession, rather than lovett, a name that professes why the character takes toby in.

as the wonka film progresses, we see more and more parallels with burton's sweeney todd. firstly, bleacher lies about his identity for a large portion of the film, just like sweeney does, and in both films the audience is made aware of these lies before the other characters find out. another parallel can be drawn between sweeney and wonka as both characters go "underground" to escape arrest, although wonka literally uses the underground sewer system while sweeney conceals his identity from the people who used to know him as benjamin barker. additionally, both wonka and sweeney utilize their stores to evade police capture.

at the very end of the film, we see our last two similar plot points. first, noodle is reunited with her mother. johanna meets her own mother at the end of the film, but while noodle is able to obtain a happy ending and live the rest of her life with family, johanna doesn’t realize it’s her mother, and is unable to reach that same fulfillment. johanna’s ending is much more tragic than noodle’s, however wonka is a children's movie, so what can you really expect? finally, in the post credits scene, we see justice delved out to mrs. scrubbit and bleacher as they are arrested for their wrong doing, similar to how mrs. lovett and sweeney die at the end of their film. once again, they're not killing people in a children's film, so this is the best we can get in terms of a parallel ending.

after breaking these similarities down with @orfisheus, i am completely convinced that wonka is a cleverly concealed parody of sweeney todd, but in the end, the movie represents a genre that is critically underappreciated in today's society. musical theatre should not have to be concealed to be enjoyed by all and theatre should not be relegated to the stereotypical shakespeare dramas. at the end of the day, who can really say if wonka is secretly a replica of sweeney todd? all that truly matters is the knowledge that allows us to appreciate wonka's worth. more than just a children’s film, it builds off of the foundation of two great works to become something that both pays tribute to and evolves the stories of willy wonka and sweeney todd.

[doll-elvis]

** warning drama ahead **

Regarding plagiarism and @lettersfromvenus:

I definitely did not envision this to be my first post back from the break that I’ve been on from posting but after my lengthy exchange with her last night I’d just like to clear the air and explain the situation from a different point of view as I believe lettersfromvenus has been dishonest to her audience

** but before I even get into all of that I would like to sincerely apologize if you have messaged me, replied to one of my posts or sent in an ask, I am going to start working on getting back to everyone as soon as possible- I cannot even explain how much I have missed being active on here and I’d like to give a huge thank you to all the elvis fans and blogs out there because y’all have been keeping my moral high 🫡

my immune system decided to quit a little over a week ago and what I thought was a normal cold/flu turned out to be pneumonia of all things. even though I lowkey almost died from it when I first got it as a kid, I don’t remember it being this exhausting?? I’ve been bedridden like a victorian child and have been reminiscing on all the times that I had an appetite and could stand up without losing my breath

literally me since last thursday

** as for the situation regarding lettersfromvenus **

a few days ago it was brought to my attention that some accusations were being made against her after I saw an ask that was sent to another Elvis blog on here. She was being accused, by the original author, of copying a fic (word for word) from wattpad (including the title and cover-art) and posting it on here as though it was her own work

here is that post from the og author ⬇️

I always try to be as neutral as possible but after reading posts from both @ladiilokii and lettersfromvenus, I ultimately decided that the latter was clearly in the wrong and that her explanations made no sense and did nothing but pivot the blame

and so I left this exact comment on ladiilokii’s post to show support ⬇️

** “at first I was going to give her the benefit of the doubt but her responses to your messages are just insane, I’m so sorry this happened!! I’ve unfollowed her and reported her post, I can’t believe she is refusing to take it down after being caught red-handed 🤧” **

“insane” was a harsh word to use but that is the only word that came to mind after reading lettersfromvenus’ responses to being called out

she claimed that she was sent prompts/scenarios by an anonymous person and that she then wrote the fic based on those prompts, which just magically happened to be the exact same, word for word, as ladiilokii’s og fic. not only is that impossible, but it also doesn’t account for the stolen cover-art as an anonymous person cannot send a photo through the inbox, their username would have to be public

letterfromvenus then admitted to the og auther (pictured below) that she got the cover-art directly from the original fic on wattpad

** “all I did was steal the title and the picture because it had fit so well with what I thought my fic”-lettersfromvenus ** im sorry but how do you “think”something is your fic? you either wrote it or you didn’t…

lettersfromvenus’ full direct message to ladiilokii ⬇️

these explanations made zero sense to me and the lack of accountability on her part is astounding- she basically said “your work was amazing, they meant for it to be copied” ?!?

Much like the og author, I don’t believe that lettersfromvenus was sent any prompts by an anonymous person. I think she found the original fic and posted it as her own work thinking nobody would know where she got it from as it was originally posted in a vast collection of one-shots

I can’t speak to experience of being a writer but I could imagine it would be incredibly disheartening to have someone else take the credit and reap the rewards of all the hard work, effort, and time that goes into writing a fic

and so that was my involvement in the situation. like I mentioned I did decide to unfollow her because I thought it was unfair/dishonest how lettersfromvenus was making ladiilokii out to be the aggressor even though she had every right to call out the person who was stealing her fic

but nonetheless I didn’t say anything to lettersfromvenus and I just hoped that she would learn from her mistakes and offer a more sincere apology and explanation in the future

flashforward some days later to yesterday, when around 5:40pm, I got sent an anonymous ask which had a link to a new post from lettersfromvenus. obviously there is no way to prove who sent in the ask but I had my suspicions that it was her as she directly addressed the og comment that I made on ladiilokii’s post, in her new post⬇️

(https://www.tumblr.com/lettersfromvenus/730026135806722048/okay-so-i-swore-right-down-to-not-waste-my-time-on?source=share)

in retrospect I shouldn’t have engaged but I just couldn’t believe that she was trying to twist the situation and make it seem like she was getting all this unwarranted hate when in reality this was started by her when she consciously decided to steal another person’s work, and then refused to accept any blame. I still stand by my reasonings to unfollow and report her for the stolen fic

and so I commented on lettersfromvenus’ new post (linked above) to clarify again why I decided to unfollow her, as she questioned why I did. I wanted to be as frank as possible and so I wished her the best, but I maintained that I wouldn’t support her work in the future and that I thought the og author deserved a better/more truthful explanation

unfortunately I was blocked by her after our back and forth so I can’t see all of my og comments but here are some of hers and mine that I was able to sc beforehand⬇️

may or may not have had a friend send me more sc of the convo after I was blocked ⬇️

“I did not plagiarize the fic” are you sure about that?

courtesy of @ladiilokii ⬇️ (lettersfromvenus is left, og author is right)

some other screenshots⬇️

“you’re literally blaming me for shit out of my control”- it wasn’t out of your control, you purposefully did what you did and instead of openly admitting to it, you’re pivoting the blame onto an “anonymous” sender (which she has still shown no proof of)

and even if someone did send you a complete fic in your inbox, you are still obligated to say that it is not your own original work if you post it, it is still plagiarizing even if the author is anonymous

** btw this was the caption of the fic she posted that she stole from ladiilokii- “Writing takes a lot of time, so please make sure to support us writers” writing does indeed take time… copying and pasting does not **

and please the irony of saying this fandom is toxic for calling you out for stealing another fan’s work- like ma’am take a look in the mirror before calling other people toxic 🤧

my patience is now non-existent regarding this person so I’m sorry if I’m crass but if her idea of “hard work” is copying and pasting a fic and stealing the title/cover-art, then yeah that deserves to be discredited, like what do you expect??

since I was blocked I can’t see my comment anymore but I mentioned how she admitted to stealing the cover-art and that she should have given credit for that, and she then replied that her stealing was essentially justified because the author who made the cover-art didn’t credit the photographer that took the photos of Elvis ⬇️

she also went on to say that everyone who writes the word “Elvis” is plagiarizing Gladys because she created Elvis- I hope she stretched before she made that reach

we only went back and forth for like 15 minutes but my head still hurts from it. she was just impossible to reason with, she had zero accountability, and at times I felt like I was speaking to an actual toddler… she even told me to go back to elementary school to get common sense 💀

me engaging with her on that post proved to be futile, but I can’t say that I fully regret it because this clearly shows her lack of a moral code as a writer (thou shall not plagiarize)

I hate for this to be my first post back and I do know that I am contributing to the drama (for better or for worse) by making this lengthy ass post but that whole exchange with her truly shocked me and I just couldn’t keep quiet about it, especially when she has gone to her followers and made herself out to be the victim, and made others out to be the aggressors… my brain cannot compute the fact that she is trying to garner sympathy from this

** however, I by no means, wish for any hate sent to her about this. some of my comments and rebuttals have been snippy & I definitely lost patience in all of this but I don’t know how old this person is, she could be 12 for all I know, and I think we have probably all been guilty of doing dumb things on the internet. From my understanding she did end up deleting the fic at the og authors request **

I made this post in hopes that it provides some clarity to the situation and in hopes that I could show the conversation with as much transparency as possible as since I’m blocked I’m slightly worried that she is making me out to seem like I instigated this when I only directly spoke to her once I saw that her post mentioned my comment

to me this situation wasn’t even really about who was involved, it was about the principle of it because no matter who the person is, plagiarism is wrong on all of counts. if someone plagiarized lettersfromvenus’ original work in the future, I would still speak to her defense because no one deserves to have that happen to them

if there is anything you would like to do, please show some love and support to @ladiilokii , the original author of “Welcome to Detroit, Baby” <3

anyways- I cannot wait to get back to my original schedule of posting, I’ve been on a break for only 11 days but my god it has felt like an eternity 😭

[freneticfloetry]

fic pride friday

I finally get to start a tag game! Saw this one go by in the wild, and though I couldn’t grab the exact post to reblog, I wanted to bring the concept over to my go-to folks.

Rules: Post your favourite line or passage from as many of your published works as you’d like. Let yourself feel proud of your creations! Tag as many people as you post snippets, so your fellow fic friends can be proud, too.

There’s a little slice of Husbands Era from words to get off his chest (911 / 911 Lone Star):

Times like this, TK honestly thinks he lives for the second that Carlos settles back and lets go. He hopes that feeling never gets old — the way he sinks back into his arms, just a bit, and his limbs lose the last of their tension, like he’s found the exact space where he fits and can exhale with his whole body.

There’s this Carlos and Iris truth swap from to build a home (911 Lone Star):

I think you're my new favorite person, she'd said — soft but sure, like it wasn't something wondrous after losing her dad, just laid in his lap like a gift — and he'd swallowed and said the only thing he could think of that might've been worth as much in return. I think I'm gay. She'd turned her head and smiled into his shoulder, slipping her arm around his to slot their fingers together and squeeze. Fine, she'd said, warm and wry and completely without surprise. I'll drop my 'think' if you will.

There’s this Met Gala moment from scenes from an unfinished story (The Magicians)

Really, he'd said flatly, when El had first shared the idea, you want to go as The Little Mermaid. Eliot had rolled his eyes. Well not the neutered Disney version, he'd answered, the Hans Christian Andersen original. In all its forbidden gay glory. Quentin had blinked, thoroughly confused, and El had given him a look he never did decipher. He wrote it as a love letter, Q, he'd explained, soft and sad, to a man he couldn't have.

There’s this moment before a bittersweet reunion from What Baking Can Do (The Magicians)

He's technically seen El… since; there's a copy made of clay back at the cottage, lying silent and too still in Eliot's bed. But this is the form he knows — towering and full of grace, even bent over a workbench, brows drawn together, sifting flour into a big wooden bowl. Quentin's clearly caught him mid-setup, a telltale line of little clay vessels arranged across one side of the table, and it's sort of fascinating to watch the way he's adapted, the duality of the picture it paints — a faded apron slung over some sort of sheer, gauzy shirt that's tied at his side, sleeves rolled at each cuff to the elbow and hands stripped free of rings, the room's worn wood and stone an unadorned backdrop for the drama of the dark crown of gems that still circles his head. It's an image Quentin doesn't think he could forget, but there's the strangest urge to frame it, hang it, label it in bronze: High King Humbled, 2017. Flesh and bone.

There’s this truly unfortunate timing from Confidence Man (What’s Your Number?)

The Imperial March is impossible to ignore in the best of situations, much less mid-cunnilingus, but trying to would be significantly easier without the subsequent knock on the door. She stiffens, fingers tightening in his hair, thighs clamping down around his head like a vice. "Oh, fuck," she moans, in a way that's meant to be mortified but, to his ears and his brain and every one of his nerve endings, still sounds like she's seconds from flying off a fucking cliff. "Ally, I swear to god," he says, locked between her legs, "if I come in my pants with your mother outside I may never maintain an erection again."

There’s this reflection on the past and present from Ashes and Flame (Every You and Every Me) (The Hunger Games)

I want it to be as it was. A purging of everything that haunts me, down to the smallest detail. But when I'm done, there's only space and shadow in living color, more abstract than anything that came before it. A fiery sunset over the Meadow grass, the shape of mockingjay wings. And two silhouettes on the horizon, together but separate, forever moving forward, and backward, and nowhere at all.

And finally, there’s this unbalanced negotiation from By Any Other (Lucky Number Slevin), which is maybe my favorite cold opening to anything I’ve ever written.

"You need a name." She spreads out the stack of takeout menus she's stolen from the front desk, sprawled on her stomach on their third motel bed in a week. The wallpaper is the worst she's seen yet, and is still somehow better than what was in her old bathroom. "What about Indian?" "As names go? It's a little tongue-in-cheek." He flops to his back beside her, scratching at his stomach and squashing half the pile. "I could go for some Chinese." She wrinkles her nose, wrestling the menus free. "No Chinese. I hate Chinese." "You are Chinese." "Yeah, it's tragic, they revoked my membership and everything."

Tagging in @liminalmemories21, @paperstorm, @carlos-in-glasses, @reyesstrand, @rmd-writes, @lemonlyman-dotcom , and @welcometololaland !

[kentofication]

🔍︎ — gin gagamaru ✰ fem!reader

♯ — stealing gagamaru's hoodie(s).

∎ — 0.5k ✰ fluff

ⅲ — i watched all of blue lock in one day yesterday so i dont know if i got this correct. uhhhhhh oh the weather outside is frightful. please enjoy reading.

you ruffled under the bed sheets and multiple blankets piled on top of you, snuggled up in the borrowed (stolen) hoodie you got from gagamaru’s closet. you heard the nearby shuffling of him nearby, so you shielded yourself with the blankets, knowing he was looking for the exact same hoodie you borrowed from him. 

the curses were getting louder and louder, he finally got to his destination. you know it wasn’t a really good hiding place, but you had to make it work for now. “y/n?” you could hear the muffled sounds of gagamaru’s deep voice echoing from the hallways. you let out a little giggle, but put your hand over your mouth to suppress the noise. 

“sweetheart, is that you?” he questioned, as he walked further to the area where the noise was coming from. you could hear his footsteps getting louder and louder. the sound of him frequently rustling around nearby closets or underneath piled up objects. until he found you. he snatched the blankets off of you to reveal your evil deed. 

“oh . . .” gagamaru said, gazing upon your figure. his hoodie just fit so well on you, almost like a second blanket. gagamaru’s eyes widened when he saw his missing article of clothing planted on his lover's body. “found it.” he said, while grabbing the material off of you. 

you two struggled for a little bit—mostly you because gagamaru was so strong. “stop it, maru!” you said, trying to kick him off the bed. a smile was plastered on his face during the battle for his hoodie. he needed it desperately, he claimed, but you just wouldn’t give it up. “baby, i don’t wanna have to resort to more . . . violent methods.” gagamaru said, looking up at you with his bug-like eyes. 

you gulped at how serious he was, that stupid smile still on his handsome face. you ignored the sentence nevertheless, and kept on defending your right to have his hoodie. 

he huffed and started to crack his fingers. your eyes widened at his actions and started to hide under the blankets, already knowing what's going to happen. 

he started his assault. 

gagamaru’s assault. 

the tickle assault. 

you couldn’t escape from his grasp now. not when he was repeatedly putting his fingers to work, making you laugh uncontrollably. “okay! okay! okay! maru! i’ll give it back!” you said in between laughs, trying to push gagamaru off at the same time. 

“promise?” he questioned. you looked him in his eyes, “i promise.” he smiled as he saw you slipping off his hoodie. he was so relieved, after all that work, he finally got what he wanted. you gave him his hoodie as you smothered yourself under the blankets yet again. 

just as he was beginning to leave, he began to sense something else missing. something missing from his catalog. he looked back at you to see you had his blue hoodie on. 

you two exchanged glances as you quickly hid underneath the blankets before he got to his destination. his speed was just too much for you. 

“you little . . .” gagamaru said playfully as he began his assault. the tickle assault.

2022 © originally posted by @kentofication. please do not copy, translate, repost, or plagiarize. (reblogs are appreciated!)

[telltaleangelina]

TC tag game Thank you for the questions and for tagging me @renaultphile Rules: Answer the questions and tag other TC fans

"He would not fucking say that" only they did and it's canon. When/who?

I don’t think I’ve read it enough to have a sense of something like this. I really disliked Laurie’s scenes with Adrian though. So it’s not so much ‘he wouldn’t say that’ as ‘I would prefer to ignore the fact that he said/did that.'

2. Did they kiss in the study? Yes/no + why you are 100% correct about this.

I think they did. The first time I read it, I didn't really wonder if something had happened, only what had happened: I didn’t know if they’d only kissed or done anything more. Later, it seemed to be confirmed by Ralph’s letter that they’d not done ‘anything more,’ I just assumed it was a kiss, and I don’t really think the dialogue following the ellipses makes much sense without anything having happened. “Now you see what I mean, Spud. It would never have done, would it? Well, goodbye.” What could Laurie have seen if there was nothing besides a hug or handshake or something? What would never have done? Why ask him to ‘come here’ at all?

3. Mandatory question about Ralph's alleged tattoos.

I really don’t think he’d have any, but if he did I think it'd probably be something nautical.

4. 53 vs 59 edition: quote a line or paragraph that is better in the edition you like the least.

I don’t know which of them I read and I definitely haven’t read another addition, so I can’t answer this. Apparently, the earlier one had more detail and dialogue, so if I haven’t I’d love to read it

5. Which TC character would feel right at home here on tumblr dot com?

Sandy, I think he'd be great on here.

6. Tag yourself at Alec's birthday party.

Laurie reading a book or Laurie just at the beginning, sitting around awkwardly, listening to people’s conversations and wondering how on earth he ended up there.

7. Post a TC meme

The first I ever saw (on the Mary Renault tag) and still the funniest to me, I think because I understand it perfectly

8. Easy to talk about who deserved better. Who deserved worse?

Straike, I hate him with a fiery passion. The man had a dog put down, not because he was sick or anything but simply because he couldn’t be bothered to care for him. Vicar? Ridiculous.

9. You can break the fourth wall (at any point in the novel) and say a single sentence to our protagonist, Laurie Odell. What do you say?

'This is not Ancient Greece, stop being weird,' at the exact moment Andrew is telling him his traumatic life-story and Laurie is preoccupied worrying about Dave. Also related to the question, but not really asked for: if I could I’d also tell Andrew he doesn’t have to feel ashamed of how he feels about Laurie. Well, more accurately, I’d give him a modern copy of ‘Quaker Faith & Practice’ and have the relevant passages highlighted, so I know he won’t miss them. It makes me very sad for both Andrew and Dave that their whole lives could've been very different (and much happier) if they were born four or five generations later.

9. What's a question you have about TC? One you haven't found an answer for yet.

I can't think of any, besides wondering how Mary Renault could've written it because it's so good. I love the use of subtext, the way she describes emotions you've felt before but never would've been able to put into words on your own. In terms of characters and story, I do have a random question about Bunny: was it supposed to be implied that he was a perpetrator of sexual assault? I got that idea when I was reading the car scene between him and Laurie but I was unsure.

I don't know who to tag! I think all of the Charioteer accounts I know have already been tagged, but if anyone hasn't and wants to, I'd love to read your response!

[filzmonster]

If I may, this brainrot has been eating away at me, I just need to hear someone else's opinion! ✨️

At what point did you start shipping Gil and Break? What made you go, "yes, that's it!"?

What do you like most about them? I beg, share as much as you can about your thoughts on them! I need to hear it all! 😭🙏

fuck yes of course you may! Thank you so much for asking! *cracks knuckles* I've been waiting my whole life for an opportunity like this, so let's dive right into it!!

So to answer your first question - how I came to shipping them - let me start by saying that it took me a while. Tbh at first I didn't really pay a lot of attention to Break and all the cryptic things he was spewing (I have no excuse for this except that at the time I was obsessed with another manga that had a similar clown-ish character, so Break, at first, felt a little bit too much like a copy of that character for me to really be intrigued by Break).

Also, I was very much blown away by the platonic ... whatever that thing is ... between Gilbert and Oz, so I didn't really put on the shipping glasses for a very long time.

I watched the entire anime without developing any ships.

Then I started the manga and by then I was already so very, very, very deeply invested in everything, so this time around when I got to the specific moment that made my brain go oh, there was nothing stopping it from going oh.

It started out with a kiss, how did it end up like this? a look ...

... and solidified itself with

1.) Break caring about the fact that Gilbert supposedly forced himself to act like he was still his friend after his past got revealed

and

2.) Gilbert caring about the fact that apparently the last ten years, in which he saw Break as someone he wanted to be trusted by, meant less to Break than they meant to himself.

(I could write an entire seperate post about what it means that Gilbert wants Break to trust him and the parallels to his entire "I want to be needed" issues because Gilbert is always more focused on being the person that "is needed/trusted/wanted/etc." by the people in his life, rather than being the one needing/trusting/wanting/etc. the other person - if that makes any sense. ANYWAY --)

There was no stopping myself after that.

My brain just went oh, this is very angsty from a platonic "my friend doesn't trust me as much as I trust him" perspective - let's make it EVEN MORE angsty by changing it to "my lover doesn't trust me" and the rest is history.

After that, I went back and looked at their other recent and significant interaction:

What was, up until then, a very significant scene for Gilbert (and for me - I was shook, and still am by this scene everytime I read it tbh) in relation to his issues regarding Oz and being left behind/no longer needed, re-wrote itself in my head into something Break said to Gilbert, a piece of very important advice, something said to Gilbert by someone who understood and even shared his desire to serve a Master, someone who already went through the exact thing Gilbert was scared of going through - losing his Master - and tried to help him, tried to push him in the right direction.

Break was the first person who looked at Gilbert and said "I want to fix him".

He saw what Oz couldn't see, which as how desperate and messed up Gilbert had become with the appearance of Alice in Oz' life, and understood.

This kind of understanding is what, in my eyes, is at the core of this entire ship.

Then the gang went to the ruins of Sablier and honestly, I ate that shit up:

This showed that, even though they understood each other, there was still some kind of power imbalance between them.

At this point in the story, Gilbert was still very much Not Aware of how messed up he truly was. Break, on the contrary, figured out that there's some other, far shadier stuff going on.

Break was admittedly smarter than Gilbert and tried to guide and help him. I love that he shows he cares like that, by slowly but not at all gently pushing Gilbert towards confronting his issues. He is definitely being a teensy-tiny bit manipulative about it, but who doesn't like a little bit of toxicity with their fictional ship??

Uuuuhhhhh after Sablier, the Isla Yura/Headhunter arc happened and while at that shitshow of a party, they had a lot of very nice interactions between them - alas, listing all of them in detail would make this already escalating post waaaaaaay too long, so here's the shortlist:

They confront Elliot together, and Gilbert manages to land a hit on Break

Gilbert realizes that Break is blind, all while Vincent is trying to lure him away so that he doesn't go to help Break

Gilbert's little flashback to probably the first advice Break ever gave him: get your priorities straight

Break sort of gives up the fight against Fang and Lilly

Gilbert shows up and kicks him in the back, going all "I'm his left eye" while also saying: you're my priority, too, you idiot.

Gilberts fixes up Break's wounds and then scolds him for not asking for help even though there are people he can and should ask for help - and isn't that a fantastic parallel to the very first scene I brought up in this post? How this entire thing, for me, started with Gilbert asking, desperately "Why don't you trust me?" and now we're here, with Gilbert, again, asking "Why don't you trust me?" Only this time Break doesn't meet him with the silent air of someone who sees himself as superior, more experienced, but answers his question with a request, finally accepting him as an equal: "please help me."

And then .... AND THEN ... it gets even better:

Listen. LISTEN.

Mere moments ago in the manga it was established that Break is utterly unable to fall in line with someone, unable to work in a team, unable to be a partner. He even repeats it himself: Sharon calls me Mr. One-Man-Show.

But here's Gilbert and he says: I don't care. Do whatever you want, I'll meet you halfway. I'll keep up with you. Let me show you, let me prove myself to you. I'll have your back. Trust me to have your back.

And Break does.

And then a lot of shit went down and it's all very, very tragic.

And then this happens:

And I realize that this is not The Most Important Thing in that chapter and that what happens right after is way more important than this little panel, but I want to talk about the perspective used here for a moment.

This is shown from a frontal perspective. We see Gilbert standing in front of Oz from an outsider's POV, someone who looks at them, someone who sees Gilbert stepping in front of Oz.

This is an important scene and an important perspective in more ways than one, so bear with me for a second, please, as I go off on a little tanget.

See, this scene is very reminiscent of a later scene:

A later scene that is shown from Oz' perspective. Because this time it is important that Oz sees Gilbert stepping in front of him, protecting him despite everything. This scene is for Oz.

The scene prior to that wasn't for Oz.

It was a little bit for us, as readers, foreshadowing that Gilbert, finally fully aware of all his memories, still choses Oz. It is the promise to us that Gilbert will pick Oz' side and ultimately safe him.

It was, truly, for Break.

Break, whose first priority was to get himself between Gilbert and Oz the moment he realized the truth about Gilbert.

Break, who wanted to protect Oz from Gilbert, who wanted to protect Gilbert from Gilbert himself.

Break, who saw, and realized and had faith without even knowing the whole truth.

Now look at all of that and tell me how I was supposed to NOT ship them.

Also, feel free to tell me why YOU ship them :)

Alright, now that I've spent ... an atrocious amount of length on this post to tell you when & why I started to ship them, let's move on to your second question: what do I like most about them?

Weeeeeelllllllll ... a lot of that is already answered between the lines of the "how this ship came to be" elaboration, so I'll start with a short little summary:

there are a lot of parallels between Break's past and Gilbert's present that allow them to understand each other in this very specific way no one else probably can

they push each other to grow/be better (with Break pushing Gilbert to confront his issues and Gilbert calling Break out when he's being a stubborn idiot and refusing help)

they support each other through their lowest points, again and again.

the fact that Gilbert accepted Break, truly, for who he is. That he looked at Break and went "this guy's weird and creepy, but I'm still going to work with him, I'm still learning how to cook for him, I'm still going to try to listen to his advice even though I don't really understand it yet, I'm still going to be his left eye and stand by his side and build a relationship with him that is built on trust, and I'm still going to look at him as a priority"

the fact that Break looked at Gilbert and went "I see you, I'll help you. I'll use you, sure, but even after you've lost your usefulness to me, I'll still help you figure yourself out. I accept you as my equal, please help me. I'll act like I don't care about you, but I do, oh lord, I do. And I'm so relieved that you chose well. I always knew you could do it."

Also, the thing is - I'm a Gilbert girly, so obviously I care about him and his relationships the most.

And for the most part of the manga, the most important relationship, after his relationship to Oz, is his relationship to Break.

Sure, there are Alice and Vincent and Elliot, and even Sharon and Reim and Oscar.

But the one who keeps showing up in all his most important scenes, the ones that deal with his issues, his struggles, his choices - is Break.

And not just that, they keep showing up in each other's important scenes that don't focus on them at first.

E.g., Gilbert is there when Break asks Oz "Where are you?", a question that will haunt Oz for a long time.

Gilbert is there after Lutwidge academy, when Oz and Break have another moment together, and vice versa Break witnesses another key moment between Oz and Gilbert.

Break is there when Gilbert chases after Zai Vessalius in the ruins of Sablier. Gilbert is there when Break wakes up blind.

Break is there when Gilbert regains his memories, and he's there when Gilbert choses a side; and he's there, always there, when Gilbert is confronted with his relationship with Oz. He's even indirectly there when Gilbert gets inspired by Sharon who wants to become stronger so that she can stay by Break's side.

They play a big role in each other's lives even when they aren't directly part of a main event.

Almost like they keep thinking of each other

They grow from "let's use each other for our own benefits" to "I'll risk everything for you". They inspire each other to be better.

They understand each other. Break gets a side of Gilbert that Oz, Gilbert's most important relationship, and even though he grew and learned to understand Gilbert better in the end, will never really get.

Likewise, Gilbert manages to cement himself in Break's life as someone he can trust and rely on, something that comes very hard to Mr. One-Man-Show. I'd even argue that not even Oz managed to become an equal for Break in the end, since Break's last thoughts towards Oz are still "I have to support and guide him", and Oz can't offer him any real solace - that position, ultimately, falls to Reim and Sharon. We're totally ignoring that Break and Gilbert do not really share a last, significant scene, just go along with me please

Anyway.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that their understanding of each other is the most important thing for me. That they are able to have this relationship outside of their other important relationships (Oz & Alice and Sharon & Reim respectively). That they help each other to grow and even teach each other how to better their other relationships.

They have such a big, positive, meaningful influence on each other without ever really trying. It's like they see no other choice but to be there for each other when one of them needs the other.

I love them, your honor.

Alrightttttt, with all of that said .... I think I'm done for now?

Feel free to add your own thoughts and tell me

a) How you came to ship them and why

and

b) What you like most about them and why

Again, thank you very much for asking!! This deep dive really did a lot for my general well being and showed me that while apparently I still know a lot about Pandora Hearts by heart, it may still be time for another re-read soon :)

Also, it's been sooooo long since I've had an opportunity to talk about Break/Gilbert and it was a lot of fun!!! I'm really grateful for that and I can't wait to hear your thoughts on them! <3

[chaithetics]

Absolutely adored the Late Night Mends work. Thank you!! Would you consider writing more monkey man kid x reader - maybe something where he praises and talks the reader through it, starting gentle and then figuring out he can be rougher because reader likes it that way. He would start out wincing through the pain caused by his fighting, but eventually forget about that. Praise/dominance part inspired by him saying "good girl, do you like that?" to the dog in the film.

Hey Nonnie! I'm glad you adored Late Night Mends! I'm blown away at how many people that fic has reached especially in such a short time.

Now this is an awkward one, I will be honest, after logging on a few days ago and seeing a Monkey Man fic on my feed with the exact same ask - EXACT wording minus the Late Night Mends mention lol - I did laugh because it's quite silly but I also felt a bit baffled. I'll admit that I am a sensitive person so maybe this in the context of other anons feels more rude to me than what it really is. I'm still going to talk about it though because I think my feelings are valid. I wasn't going to reply to this ask after that but I think this needs to be said.

It's going to be a ramble! Bear with me! For anyone who does I will give you a hug if you wish!

Writers are sooooooo underappreciated on this app and it feels like every time a writer starts to get a platform they post that they're thinking of deleting Tumblr, they're begging for engagement or talking about a really negative experience with expectations or their inbox.

If writers have their inboxes open and say that they're open for requests and you have a request idea, totally send in requests! 🥰 It's part of what it's there for! But please don't send the exact same request (especially word for word) to more than one writer! I can't speak for everyone but requests pile up quickly and fics take time. I personally can go through big hiatuses due to my health where I don't write or post any fics for months, in a good period I can write and post a fic weekly (since April I've posted 7 fics). Which is a somewhat common regularity, I know that there's some writers who post more or less frequently than that- that's just up to each writer depending on their circumstances. Each timeframe/schedule whether less or more is completely valid or understandable.

I take my time with fics, it is unlikely that if you send a request I will have it posted within a few days (unless I have the pressure of something like fics for Palestine lol). I spend time thinking about the prompt, jotting ideas and then writing, I'd say I spend 6ish+ hours on most of my fics. Most writers are also balancing work and/or study, along with social lives and other personal things like families, health etc. I work and have a lot of health stuff going on.

So I know that it can be easy to feel impatient with fic requests as you can read a fic in five minutes but it takes a lot longer to write it. I don't do much editing which you might've noticed lol, but plotting and editing take time too. And writers fit this in when they can. Around their lives. Art and fics take time, they do!ch I'm not sure what happened here, you sent this a few weeks ago and so I'm not sure if you copied and pasted this and sent this to numerous writers or if you sent it to one of us and we didn't reply quick enough so you sent it to another. I'm going to guess the former because of the wording? But everyone's time matters and this feels a bit disrespectful of the time of writers. You don't know if I'd started this fic, or if I had it ten minutes away from posting before I saw the fic by the other amazing writer. Or I could've finished and posted a fic before another writer did and they didn't see it and spent their time on finishing your request and posting it. If you have two writers writing the same prompt for something this specific, it seems unfair to someone who might've sent a prompt to just one writer and they will then miss out or have to wait longer for their fic because of this. I feel really guilty about how long it takes me to write fics and how long it sometimes tames me to write requests but I now feel like I've wasted a bit of my time on this idea, and it's time that could've been devoted to another request. I wouldn't want to finish this idea because I wouldn't want to be accused of copying the other writer because of the exact same prompt wording and potentially any similarities there could've been in the fics.

If you send a request to someone and want to follow up. You can message or send another ask to a writer, asking if they got your request, are they comfortable with it and do they know when they might get it out. Please do that instead of sending the exact same request to multiple writers (especially if it's super specific lol) or sending it to another writer because it hasn't been posted within a few weeks.

I don't know if this all made sense and I'm sorry for how long this was, please forgive me Tumblr besties! 🫶

A very tired and migraine-burdened writer signing off with lots of love💞