#and no one in the class critiques well and all the teacher says is

[danny-doodles]

Steve’s Hobby

This is a short 2k blurb about one of my Steve hcs, I am only really good at critical analysis writing so I’m sorry if this is bad!! Creative writing isn’t my strong suit but I felt like I couldn’t really explain this hc in a drawing as well as writing it could.

Growing up Steve was often taught the importance of words from his father, thinking it would be useful for his son’s future in the business. Steve was never the best reader, letters jumping around the page made it too difficult, so instead he listened to everyone around him. Teachers, his parent’s coworkers, older kids, all of them taught him the importance of the meaning of words.

How certain words would make someone a town pariah yet others a god among men. Steve was a more quiet kid but as he grew up he also grew confident in his words. He could tear someone down with one sentence, ensuring they knew he was not to be messed with. That’s why he was so confused when he struggled in his english class, he knew the power of words and the many meanings, but his teacher never understood. Sure he made grammar errors, how no one else struggled with the dancing letters he didn’t get, but how could the teachers not understand his connections? Steve shouldn’t have to explain why the red of the handmaid’s cloaks represented the ripping of humanity from the women, it was so clear to him. Obviously the boar head could be comparable to the church, how could his teachers not make the connection?

Even Nancy didn’t understand, someone he considered smarter than him. He knew she was trying to be nice when she critiqued his college paper but it still left him in the fog. Basketball was war to him, a fight that was pointless with one but possible with many. A challenge that called for leadership and a strict order. Everyone had the roles, knew where and when to shoot, needed the ability to think quickly on their feet and not struggle under the pressure. Uniforms to not only separate from the enemy but to show they are a unit reaching for a common goal. It was so clear leaving no need to explain, especially to Nancy.

But she didn’t get it, no one got it.

Maybe he wasn’t as good with words as he thought.

Steve from then on fumbled his words when he got nervous, scared he would say something that made him sound dumb and point out his weakness with words. The concussions didn’t help either, making him take longer to grasp concepts. Reading felt nearly impossible, the headaches were unbearable. Not to mention the kids' comments, judgmental and brutal as if Steve didn’t have a reason to struggle in the first place.

Everyone around him loved to put him in a sudden spotlight and when he didn’t say the right line he was booed off stage and dealt with the looks of disappointment from his co stars for messing up. So Steve stuck to what he knew, his quick remarks. Were they bitchy? Yes, but not coated in malice like they used to be. Piggybacking off others points with sarcastic comments so the other person kept talking, anything to get the attention of him.

But Steve had a secret hobby that he shared with no one, not even with his platonic soulmate with a capital P Robin.

Steve wrote poetry.

Years of horrors that by law he couldn’t share that caused vicious nightmares and a clammy grasp on reality at times tended to keep Steve up. Another gift bestowed by his father though was a feeling of shame when sharing his emotions. Didn’t help that those emotions were typically down played or outright ignored by others. Therefore a bottle filled with his emotions rested in Steve’s chest, which after Vecna he really realized probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do. So Steve took to writing them down, but he did it for himself.

No need to explain everything, he knew what he meant, he knew every context of every word. He wrote on his experiences, his emotions. He wrote when he was happy, he wrote when he was sad. Steve wrote and wrote and found his love for words again. And god did it feel good, it felt like taking back his voice from a world that underappreciated it. In a weird way it felt like revisiting a relative he had last seen as a child, that sense of freedom and the loss of expectation because in their eyes he was still that little kid. All they wanted was to see someone they loved and to Steve the words welcomed him back with a hug that rivaled his Nonna Maria’s.

Steve would ponder over lines at random intervals of the day, biting his pencil between his teeth during the quiet hours at work or simply jotting down a line right before picking the kids up. Steve wrote so often he kept his small little notebook on him at all times, usually accompanied by a pencil bound to it with a rubber band. (Turns out having hearing aids and glasses made it really difficult to put pencils behind one's ears). At this point everyone had seen his notebook, pale blue with some star stickers because he never had a shortage of them. Everyone assumed it was for something different. Some thought it was grocery lists, to-do lists, something productive. Others thought it was like a pocket calendar with all his plans listed so he didn’t forget. Dustin insisted it was meant to hold the definitions of anything D&D related so Steve never forgot, meanwhile Robin argued it was to hold all the wonderfully obscure movie recommendations she loved to give. All of them were wrong though and Steve kind of adored it that way. He didn’t have to explain himself that way, he could continue to hide under the blankets. Steve no longer held his tongue out of fear of others but because he had an outlet he much rather prefer.

Listening now felt less like a pop quiz, waiting for him to mess up his response, it felt like an actual conversation. Steve may not speak up as much as he would have before the Upside Down but he fell back in love with his own voice and maybe one day he would feel confident enough to share it with the Party, but for now it was all his.

No matter how much they wanted to prove who was right, the kids and older teenagers never touched the book when it was rarely separated from Steve. Well...after someone tried to grab it and they learned they really shouldn’t touch it.

While at the Harrington house the Party were preparing for a campaign session when the argument about the pale binded pages was brought up again. Steve had left it on the kitchen counter while he went to the bathroom, and Mike decided he was done with the bickering. He shot up and went to retrieve and open the book but before he could grab it the book flew through the air.

All the heads turned and landed on El holding it in her hand, “We are not Steve, this is his. It is rude to invade his privacy, would you like me to watch you without telling you,” everyone quietly shook their heads, “Then we do not watch Steve without him knowing.”

That’s exactly when Steve walked back in, it takes one look across the room at all the embarrassed faces and El holding his book with frustration painting her eyes to know what had occurred while he was gone. He walks up, kisses El on her head and softly thanks her while taking back his little literature.

After that incident no one dared touch the book or face the wrath of their favorite mage. They would find out when Steve was ready for them to.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That damn little book haunted Eddie’s thoughts. He knew Steve was not what he assumed him to be so anything was on the table, he had been wrong about the guy before who's to say he won’t be this time?

Of course Eddie wanted to respect Steve’s privacy because Eddie personally would be mortified if Steve had seen any of his notebooks, mainly because of the pages of lyrics that not so subtly hinted at an itsy bitsy affection for the badass babysitter. If that didn’t give Eddie away the random ‘Eddie Harrington’ and ‘Steve Munson’ with hearts all over would finish the job. So yeah, Eddie was not crazy to offer up any of his notebooks to venture into Steve’s book. He just had no idea the universe would present him with a much more favorable offer.

Steve and Eddie started hanging out a lot more after Vecna, no shocker considering they shared a hospital room, and soon the bat buddies would spend their time together outside of the hospital. That’s why it wasn’t surprising for Steve to let Eddie venture into Steve’s room while he went to pick up their lunch.

Eddie was somewhat of a curious cat, so when he spotted the notebook and some papers scattered on Steve’s desk he was like a moth to a flame. He softly glided his fingers over the blue cover and exhaled some breath in a soft laugh over the star stickers Steve oh so loved. It was the paper though that caught his eye when he finished observing the book. It looked like lyrics at first but then he realized some of the lines were too short to be lines, if anything they looked more like stanzas from a poem. Steve had poetry on his desk, did Steve read poetry? Thee Steve Harrington likes poetry? God his whole doctrine was garbage huh. Eddie moved the paper towards him and started to read.

Watchful gaze

Setules on the glass.

Wishful gaze

Silent pleas of escaping rolling in the mouth

Fingertips slipping through the veil,

Grasping for warm hands,

Receiving lukewarm.

Hesitant to grab.

Dependency clasping the palms

Such a feverish feeling

Poking at the appendages,

A coldness that numbs.

Gently gripping for the heat,

The balmy yields.

Smoke and simmers,

Arms rushing to sides

Frozen.

Yearning for ardor,

Turn not yet given,

Waiting for the impossible,

Waiting for the unobtainable,

So understanding.

So relieving.

So desperate.

So alone.

Standing for the calling.

So patient.

So pathetic.

Empty Hands by Steve H.

Eddie was staring at the very last line on the paper, utterly flabbergasted. Steve wrote this? Steve writes poetry?! Is that what resides in the little book? Before Eddie could even find the power to turn to the book to look, Steve walked into his room. Again a quick look is all Steve needed to take before he knew what happened in his absence.

“Oh! Uh..I’m guessing you read it.”

Eddie slowly looked back up while caressing the paper, “Yeah, you..um..you really wrote this? Is that…uh..what’s in your notebook? Cause I will admit I never would have guessed that.”

Steve started scratching his neck, “I don’t blame you,” he huffs, “But yeah I write poetry, helps to let some of the thoughts out considering our lives y'know?”

“I totally get it dude! Lord knows my lyrics are infected with the whole spring break bullhonkey. So..totally cool if you don’t want to tell me but, why is this one out of the book? Were you gonna write it into the book?” Eddie picked up the paper to place it next to the notebook and turned to face Steve.

“Actually I copied it from the notebook, I’m gonna, okay wait, you can’t tell anyone this-”

“Even Robin?” Eddie exaggerated his smile to look wild.

“Even Robin.” Steve nodded with his eyes shut.

Eddie put his hands together and swayed while standing, “Wowww look at me, lil old Eddie Munson getting to learn the secrets of the mysterious writer Steve Harrington.”

“Eddie, you want to know or not?” Steve sighed as he put his hands on his hips.

“Yes. Yes please,” Eddie eagerly replied, barely letting Steve finish his sentence.

“The last time I went to Indy with Robin to go shopping at their mall we went to a cafe. The bulletin board had a flier for a poetry night and I got curious I guess.”

“You gonna perform the poem there?”

“That’s the plan.”

Eddie could understand wanting a fresh slate when it came to having a reputation. “Craving anonymity? Must be tough considering you are Hawkin’s golden boy.”

Steve smiles brightly and Eddie sees his shoulders lose tension, tension Eddie didn’t even notice because he was so distracted by the fact that holy shit Steve is a poet. “Exactly.”

Honestly Eddie would give anything to hear more of Steve's hidden works, he grabs some of his hair and brings it to cover his mouth, “I know you don’t intend to tell the rest of the bunch, but uh..would you allow a humble bard to observe your lyrical performance?”

Eddie looks at Steve’s face for any hint of annoyance and finds none, instead he finds a look that he could hope to be correct in his guess is excitement.

“Really? You’d want to hear more, it's not confusing or stupid to you?” Steve softly smiled at Eddie, making him swoon inside.

“It's art! It doesn’t need to make sense, it just needs to make you feel good, who cares if others are confused. And for what its worth even if I’m not right on the money that poem made me feel Steve, I mean as the expert in self-expression it felt real and vulnerable, y’know.” Eddie had to shut himself up before he himself waxed poetry about just how much he is dying to hear more from Steve to learn more about him.

“Thanks Eddie.” Steve gazed at Eddie as if no one had ever told him that before. Which now that hes thinking about it that’s probably the truth. Guess Eddie needed to constantly remind him then.

Eddie smiled, mirroring Steves while bending at his waist, “Oh but of course my liege.”

“Oh my god okay Eddie cmon the food’s gonna get cold.”

Steve started to leave his room and Eddie rushed to follow him, “Now that I know what the book is filled with may I pretty please read it?” Rapidly blinking his eyelashes in an attempt to look innocent and pure but instead looking like a piece of dust got in his eyes.

“Nope.”

“Ugghhh c'mon Steve! Just imagine the look on the little hellions when they see me opening the book! God the jealousy! The feeling of betrayal when they see me reading Steve Harringtons’s treasure trove of text and they are none the wiser to what is inside. And the best part, I have permission! The power I would hold Steve! The possibility, I could use them like little puppets to do my bidding while they crave information I alone hold!”

“Eddie that sounds like a headache for me waiting to happen, they’re just gonna badger me to tell them because they would claim it’s unfair you know and they don’t.”

“Eh, their egos could take a little hit don’t you think?” Eddie was now resting his head on Steve’s shoulder as the younger started to bring the food out of the carry out bag.

“Can I read your lyric notebook?”

Eddie’s eyes went wide as his brain proceeded to remind him of every lyric he had written around his devotion to Steve. Red in the face Eddie responded quickly, “Nope! Mmm you smell that Stevie I’m so hungry, aren’t you?”

“Subtle Munson.”

“Tis my middle name.”

Steve fondly rolled his eyes, “Sure.”

As they settled down on the couch Eddie tracked Steve grabbing the remote, “So I can really watch you?”

Steve turned and looked at Eddie with a calmness on his face. “Yeah Eddie.”

Eddie grabbed his hair as Steve stared at him, “Cool, cool, it’s a date.” Eddie froze about to panic silently as he tried to fix his slip up.

“Yeah, it's a date.” The two looked at each other, neither wanting to look away. After a minute or so Steve turned on the TV and if the two fell asleep together it was their business.

[zenithpng]

hi. writer/language arts moots. i need help :))

how on earth do you write a second draft.

[fallingskiesandrisingseas]

Today, Peter Pevensie after Narnia.

---------------------------------------------------

Peter has severe body dysmorphia when he comes back.

He used to be strong, reliable. Able to pick up his sister with one hand and fence with the other one. He prided himself on it, had arm wrestling contests with minotaurs and centaurs.

The first time he walks down the stairs he falls flat on his face. He's not used to his legs being half a foot shorter than they used to be.

His teachers don't understand how he turned into such a mess. He was normal, right? He was normal before he was sent away?

They talk of the way war hurts young children. They don't know just how true that is.

Peter cannot find his scars anymore. His body is soft, the skin unbroken. It fosters a rage in him so loud that teachers have to scold him every week. He fights with class bullies all the time. They gang up on him. They usually lose. They eventually stop trying.

Peter fights with honour, though. Closed fists, never below the belt, no permanent damage. If he gets the chance he will even take off his lion rings.

Long nights crying are replaced by sessions in the gym. Peter has pride like a wounded lion, will not let himself be pushed around. He gets used to his new body, makes it strong. Others worry over this obsession with strenght.

His siblings know it is because he has to regain an identity all by himself. Sure, they were royalty too, but he was the High King, Commander of the Armies, Emperor of the Lone Islands. He was the face of their court, the man behind the flag.

Others brought more back from Narnia then he did. Lucy has dancing, Edmund has chess, Susan has diplomacy and her silver tongue.

Peter had his crown, his country, his duties and his sword. Peter, even when stranded on a lone island, always had his wit and his strenght.

All that is lost in England, where he is not allowed to speak before his father, where he no longer has authority. He has to respect teachers talking about war while he knows they never fought.

He sits in the front of class still. He learns to hide the snarl, the comeback, the lazy sarcasm that fits a High King but not a 14 year old kid. Stops challenging his teachers verbally. He adjusts. His curiosity never leaves him, and his manners, he reminds himself, shouldn't neither.

He's cunning and clever and articulates himself well. Teachers often feel the need to call him arrogant, but he isn't that.

He's confident and secure, doesn't seem to suffer from teenage angst. He has endured loss, that they know. But they haven't a clue what he lost.

Peter is insufferable for the first 2 months he comes back from Caspian's Narnia. A kingdom, gone. Even with Aslan's words this is a hard lesson.

Then he becomes a man no one knew he could be.

Peter doesn't back down from bullies or harsh teachers. Peter doesn't ask for justice, he demands it.

Peter is brave. Two weeks after he's back, he sees a vet begging in the streets, harassed by a group of young men. He jumps in, comes home with a tooth missing and his knuckles bloodied.

When the vet is admitted to the hospital, no one believes the stories he tells. He says he saw a 15-year old veteran. The look in his eyes gave it away, he assures his physicians. That's a war look.

Peter is much more aware than he seems, can burn right through you with his glares. He takes critique seriously, but doesn't do well with disrespect, no matter who it's from.

Teachers hate that.

Despite this, kids like Peter, eventually. He's popular. Adults listen to him, which is strange. Not many 14 year old kids can command a room the way he can. They gravitate towards him, somehow.

It helps he grows tall faster than seems possible and walks so straight that it adds inches to his height. It helps he tells stories so vividly they almost come alive before their eyes. It helps he is cool under pressure, self-assured, broadshouldered. He's pious, goes to church every Sunday.

Peter settles eventually, a little slower than Susan and Edmund but before Lucy. He discovers the fencing club and immediately becomes the most talented member by a distance. Three weeks after he joins he beats the instructor. It makes him easier to manage, takes the edge of him.

He likes to quip while fencing. It's sometimes quite dark.

He's helpful though. His classmates don't take offence; Peter tells often and gladly of his instructor, a man named Oreius. He makes it sound like he was the greatest fencer in the country, always calls him "swordmaster".

He's often archaic with his speech like that.

His teachers are glad that the anger has faded. He's become better at many things, they discuss among themselves. An excellent writer, a brilliant fencer. A very strong debater. Peter, they conclude, makes sure things get done. The makings of a leader.

Peter likes languages. He's the one that remembers Narnian the best, uses it to learn a few other tongues. He likes sailing, and riding horses. His academic performances always improve after physical exercise, he can feel his brain speed up when the blood is flowing. Stories about who taught him that, who taught ALL the Pevensies that, circulate widly. Peter smiles when he hears he must've been recruited by MI6. He doesn't fight the allegations.

Women take a liking to him as he ages. He has "old-time charm", they say, even though they don't understand exactly what that means.

Chivalrous. That's the word they look for often. When they find out he can dance too, all of them fall head over heels. Peter is never smug about it, always remains polite. He doesn't kiss and tell.

He talks to his sisters and brother often.

Edmund seems like his shadow, but Peter never treats him like a little brother. He respects his input, often asks him for advice. Many are astonished when they find out Edmund is only 11 years old. They don't bicker. He dances with Lucy, talks deeply and seriously with Susan.

The Pevensies are close, and Peter is the oldest brother. He behaves like that, too.

He is the first to sign up for the war effort, eager to defend his nation and his family. But despite doing very well in selection, he doesn't get a frontline position. His skills, his supervisors decide, are better put to use elsewhere. He's too good to be cannon fodder.

Lucy and Edmund are secretely somewhat glad when he leaves to work with Susan in the States after he turns 19. Getting a date is very hard when Peter Pevensie is your older brother. And the States are safe.

Potential partners tend to be a little ... intimidated around him. Golden child, blond hair, 6"3, built like a brick, VERY protective of them, and fencing champion; Peter is a lot. He's disarming when you get to know him, but still.

They never liked Peter in the front lines, anyway.

Narnia never leaves his mind. Back from America with a BA in History and work experience from a secret service, he has dinner with the Friends of Narnia, sees the spectre, goes to find the rings.

He dies happy.

[aphroditesmoon]

umm, you’re taking Gwen x reader? I have a request. Black cat reader who was best friends with Gwen and Peter but is the rival of Spider woman. Something or another happens and their identity’s get revealed

love it if we made it

gwen stacy x blackcat!reader (gn)

warnings: cursing, tiny angst, gwen's peter is alive here, reader has hair long enough to tie them (only description)

a/n: i rlly hope u like this!

°°°°°

A robbery happened on a Tuesday, 6th July 3AM sharp. A robbery in a golden jewelry store. A minute after that, the Pandora store next to it.

No one cared about the robbery, of course. People were too busy talking about the anonymous donation worth more than 15000 the next day to three different centres in need of them.

Gwen Stacy's mind however, is still stuck at a particular difficult nemesis, the black cat. She's never failed to capture a villain like this, never took this long. But again and again, with time, the annoyingly quick and sneaky cat escapes from her grasps.

It was probably obvious that she wasn't too enthralled by any of the breaking news today, all of them critiquing the infamous Spider-Woman for being unable to get her webs on the villain. Her mind was so full and blurry with different kinds of thoughts that she didn't notice her own best friend walking into class and waving at her.

You took your spot next to Gwen, creaking your chair loudly to get her attention. When she finally flinches out of hee daydream and looks at you, she's met with a knowing smile. "Sleeping? Its not even the first period yet." She shook her head and forced a smile out. "No, just dreading AP maths." You laughed at that. Gwen was good at maths, and all the stupid numbers and figures that came with it, that couldn't have been the reason.

"Well, whatever it is, I need you took a little alive for this gift im about to-" "Gift?" Her eyes brighten up immediately. You grinned at her and pulled out the small paperbag, waving it in front of her.

Gwen, impatient she is, snatches it from you and gets to opening its ribbons open. "It's not even my birthday." She mumbles. "Good, now you can't ask me for anything on your birthday." You settled it, earning a mischievous smirk from her. She knows, you would've given her anything if she'd only asked.

You revel in her suprised expression as she pulls out the golden bracelet, it was a waving design, two long whirling gold around in a circle, with a small blue diamond placed in the middle. "You are insane." She says, glaring your way. "What? Can't treat my girl?" The both if you turn slightly pink with those words. You should've just said your welcome.  "The blue reminded me of you. A centerpiece around all the golden whirly shit." She lets out a small laugh, shaking her head. "I love it, thank you." You replied with a nod and your same small smile.

"This must've costed you a lot though,  couldn't you have bought me a two dollars friendship bracelet." She joked while putting the gift on her right wrist. "Oh don't worry, I stole it." You say with your usual tone.

Gwen almost backtracked when you said that, before hitting herself awake in her mind, forcing herself to leave the Spider-Woman alter ego aside for today.

You were making a joke because you didn't want her to feel bad, you always did. So she rolled her eyes before repacking the box and the paperbag to put them under her table. "You'd be a shit thief." She concluded. You furrow your brows. "Well then, at least I'd get to see Spider-Woman." You teased while wiggling your brows.

"I wonder how many people became really bad burglars and thieves just to get her autograph." The last of your sentence became muffled ariund the sounds of other students as your teacher finally arrive, but gwen who heard it all to well only smiled at the thought. 

▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎

School finished two hours ago, and neither of you saw or heard from Peter the whole day. He was probably at the lab again, as he always was so you didn't really bother.  Gwen, on the other hand, wouldn't stop trying to get him to answer his phone.

She's pacing around the room with her phone speaker on while you're laying on her bed, messing with her giant flower shaped plushie while she loses her mind. "Maybe he left his phone at home." You reasoned. Gwen shool her head and kept trying.  "He always lose his damn phone."

You frowned at her and decided you were done waiting. "Gwen, its over 10pm, I need to get back home, my dad will be worried." You say before getting up and taking your jacket from her coat hanger. "When has your dad ever even noticed if you're gone." She snaps, phone thrown on her bed in frustration. 

Your eyes widen at the words and you scoff at her.  She opened her mouth to apologize, immediately getting cut off. "Look, I don't know what spider has crawled up your ass these days, but we both know Peter's always disappearing these days, he's probably fine, and I'm going home since you're so worried over your friend that isn't in front of you." You ended the conversating as soon as it started, not giving her a chance to respond, you left her room, banging the door.

Your house was a few blocks away from Gwen's. When you're sure no one's around, you climb up quickly inti your room by the window, hands fast, some help from your claws. Tossing your backpack onto your bed, you changed into your suit without wasting time.

Gwen was right about something, your dad has long since noticed if you ever even came home these days. You jumped back out of your window, swinging upwards onto the roof instead of the streets.

You hopped from building to building, taking your time while enjoying the view. The lights. They were beautiful tonight,  accompanied by the bright moon, staring down from above. Even the neon signs of Joe's Pizza seemed pleasant to look at in times like this. You wished you could've shared these kind of moments with Gwen, but you didn't want to think of her now.

You find a spot above a tall empty building, where the ciry lights seemed clearer, and the smell of trash and dog piss was further away. Pulling your hair up in a bun, you tied it over twice, fixing it so you'll be able to see better without your hair always on your face.

And what a fate, as you're tilting your head down whilst your hands fixes the hairtie, a robbery happens right in front of your eyes.

Your heart skipped a beat at the crime, until you remembered you were also a criminal of a sort. This was interesting to see. A crime done by someone other than the Black Cat, finally.

The pleasure was shortlasting though,  when you had realized who was getting robbed. It was Peter. The masked man pulled out his gun, aiming it to Peter's face when he tried to run. "Run, and I'll shoot." His voice a mumble from below.

You move to stand up, backing away from any visibility, tiptoeing until you've reached the end of the building and hopped off, landing on your feet.

When you walked over the building to stand behind the robber, Peter's eyes involuntary widen,  as if a warning towards another civillian. But you weren't a civilian,  and when he takes in tbe suit and the masks, he realized who you were.

The robber gets annoyed when his eyes weren't on him anymore. "What the hell are y-" he spuns around towards you, receiving a kick to his stomach, making him fall on his back on the blow. You smiled at the victory watching Peter look between you and the fallen robber in confusion.

It seemed your victory didn't last long when a sling if webs shot againts your face.

You wretched the sticky web out of your face, growling in disgust. "Robbing an innocent citizen? That's low, even for you kitty." The annoying voice spoke. Once you manage tu cut the webs off fully with your claws. Regaining your vision,  you sneer at the ghost-spider, standing in front of Peter, who's finding protection behind her. "Is being blind apart of being spider-woman? I didn't rob him, I saved him." The hero's eyes squint along with her mask. "You? Saving people?"

Your eyes actually widen in offense before looking towards Peter. "Tell her doofus! I literally kicked him for you."

Gwen swings her head back at him and he stutters in panic. "Wh-I mean, yeah, she did, technically...kick him." You fold your eyes and glare at her as she turns back at you.  "See?" The two of you lock eyes for a minute long before she finally speak. "Peter Parker-" She calls him.

Both you and Peter frown at the name dropping . "-go home. I'll deal with her." The boy doesn't hesitate, turning his back and running way.

You snorted at her words. Always a show off. "You'll deal with me? How?" She tilts her head. "Like this." When you saw herbhand moving up, you move faster than her, snatching up her wrists in a tight grip as you push her againts the wall. "I might not have any venom on me, but try that again spidey, and I'll make you'll feel these claws for days." You see her physically wince at the words.

"You think just because you saved one man, that erases the 166 crimes you've done?" She asks sarcastically. You pout and pretends to think.  "I think, I really don't give a fuck, but its nice of you to remember all of my crimes, definitely not weird and obsessive or anything." 

She tries to speak again but you shush her when your eyes bore into the bracelet on her wrist. Firstly, who is stupid enough to wear their jewelry outside of their suit? Its like they're begging to be robbed.  Secondly; "Where did you get that bracelet?"

Your nemesis lets out a 'huh?' You repeat yourself, sterner. "I bought it?" You scoff. "You couldn't have bought something I've robbed." She seems annoyed by your questions. Being accused of stealing by a thief is pretty hurtful. "I could've brought it before you robbed it, you know."

You hummed thoughtfully at her words before you spoke. "You could've, or-" Your grip on her loosens, "-We're both just really, really, stupid." Gwen cocks her head in confusion. "What the hell are y-" realization hit her then. "Oh my god, no."

"No? Are you sure, Gwen stacy?" She winced at the mention of her name. Her hands move towards your mask. "How did I never..." Her words trails off a second before loud voices of people coming your way was heard. You pull her back swiftly into an alley, putting yourself between her and the open space.

The both of you lean yourselves againts the wall, you feel her fingers slowly slips into yours and holds back a tired sigh.

Once the group of kids has passed the alley, you finally relaxed. Her hands try to pull aw

ay but you curl your own fists around it.

She spins you back to her and her free hand moves to graze over your mask. "I didn't want you or Peter to be involved like this." She murmed. Your own hand slids around her waste as you lean closer. "I don't think it's up to you, Gwen." She huffs. "You know what I mean." You say nothing, eye staring down at your intertwined fingers. 

"Are you still going to get me arrested, spidey?" You could feel her glare from inside the mask. "What? Because I'm your friend, it all changes now?" You honestly ask. "Because I love you, and I know you and your heart, is why it's all different now. You're not who I thought you were, you can't be,  the Black Cat I've thought of before was evil in my head, evil and cruel."

You say nothing, waiting for her to continue. "You're not evil, and you're not cruel." You raised a brow. "Then, what am I?"  She's hesitates. "You're, with me. And I'm not going to let them take you, not anymore, whoever your secret identity is." Your mouth remains shut at that.

  All the bad jokes and sarcastic comments dies on your throat.  But your stubornnes always wins, "You didn't really seem to care much about me this evening."

Gwen groans loudly. "Come on, we'll go back to my place, I won't even look at the ground on the way home to shown you how much I'm paying attention to you now." You snort, a smile escaping you despite your efforts to remain upset at her.

[gabessquishytum]

Hob would like to say that this was all because he lost a bet. Yes, he is aware that many of his stories start with him losing a bet. (Shut up!)

Still. He. Lost. A. Bet......to f'ing Constantine. And because the bet was with Joanna, and because he lost by being wrong about something (it doesn’t matter what) in his field of study -- the severity of what he has to do matches being shown up by a Constantine -- Now that all that is clear.

What?! Oh, right. So Hob needs to pole dance as his act for the faculty talent show fundraiser. Yes, Hob is aware he's never even attempted pole dancing before,,,,, and yes, he might be a little (A LITTLE) uncoordinated. (Shut Up!)

So obviously he needs a teacher, who can get him ready in 3 months. By sheer serendipity, Hob sees an ad in the campus newspaper for pole dancing classes taught by an "M". Hob is willing to pay (honestly through the absolute nose) to someone willing to help him show up Constantine. M agrees to meet Hob at an off campus coffee shop to discuss private lessons.

Hob is nervous. He knows it's silly what he's trying to do. He doesn't want M to think Hob is being at all disrespectful. He just needs some training. And then this beautiful man walks into the coffee shop and Hob forgets that he was waiting for someone. (SHUT UP!)

Dream is intrigued when Hob calls him and agrees to meet to discuss if he would be willing to help Hob fulfill his forefit. Dream understands losing a bet.

/I'm thinking Dream doesn't work clubs anymore, just teaching, but his real artistry is in aerial silks and he could teach Hob either straight pole or aerial (https://www.dreamstime.com/photos-images/aerial-dancer-man-silk.html)

This is definitely the kind of bet that Hob would get himself into.

Poor Hob is immediately discouraged when he sees Dream’s incredible lean, petite physique. Of course a guy like that is going to be able spin around in the air like it's nothing. Hob just feels like he's going to be so clumsy and he'll make a total fool of himself in front of Dream AND everyone else.

But Dream shows him a few videos of guys who have a body type more like Hob’s, and he feels a tiny bit more confident. It's not like he needs to become an expert, he just needs to perfect a simple routine. And Dream is a tough teacher. He's got Hob coming in to his home studio twice every week to practice. His voice makes Hob weak at the knees (NOT convenient when he's trying to spin around a pole!) and Hob is totally wishing that this beautiful man would just dom him for real. Every night in the shower he helplessly fingers himself, imagining that it's Dream giving him the orders...

Fortunately Dream’s teaching also pays off and Hob becomes quite comfortable with his routine. Dream even comes shopping with him to find the perfect outfit to perform in! He nearly cums in the dressing room as he's trying on all these revealing semi lingerie type outfits while Dream waits outside and critiques each one.

Dream seems determined that Hob should not only perform well but actually WIN the talent show. Which is presumably why he turns up and sits in the front row... and mouths "Good boy." at Hob when he finishes his routine flawlessly.

And since he's not Hob’s teacher anymore, there's no reason why he can't go back stage and jerk Hob off through the silky fabric of his nearly see-through bodysuit. Good boys get rewards...

[phantomrose96]

Okay since I'm waiting for laundry, I'm gonna write up some fuller thoughts on the new Spider-verse. Spoilers abound beneath the readmore!

So I'm gonna start with the good, because it really WAS a good movie. The main thing working against it is that it's the successor to the original Spider-verse, which was such a master-class in style and storytelling.

Things I loved:

I'll shout out the animation to start, because how can you not. Absolutely lives up to the original Spider-verse and more with "oh this is giving me chills" style and animation. The whole sequence of Gwen saving people at the Gugenheim absolutely awed me.

Speaking of Gwen, Gwen. That whole first half-hour-ish of Gwen-focused screentime was so, so good... Loved her character-development. Loved her banter. Loved all the jokes and goofs and punch-out back and forth during the Gugenheim fight against... villain whose name I'm forgetting. Miguel showing up was great. Jess showing up was even better.

Gwen unmasking herself to her father was so so good... That was the precise moment I went "oh, yeah, I want to come see this again." This then rolled into Miles's part of the story, and his whole sequence with fighting Spot while trying to get to the parent-teacher conference *chef's kiss*. Amazing animation. Amazing goofs. Amazing humor.

Then... hmm, I have some critiques about much of the middle of the movie... I'll get back to that in the next section. But it still had its highlights: Spider-punk and Pavitr were fantastic, and I feel they were used just the right amount. The gags at Spider H.Q. were excellent. Spiderman-pointing-meme my beloved.

Then when the twist hit... my jaw was on the floor. I'd noticed Rio's eyes were green instead of brown, and just chalked it up to maybe a small production error or an effect of the lighting. Even the "Who's Spiderman?" I was willing to count as just the most hilarious possible identity reveal, to a mom who's just not really paying attention to the street vigilante scene. Then it hit... and the fact that Gwen and Miles were not experiencing the same reality just ah... AH!!!

Things I felt kinda so-so about:

The middle part of the movie felt a bit... lacking in tightness? The tension with his parents felt a bit meandering, seeming to wrap up and then come back, and I feel Rio's attitude toward Miles changed without much reason to have caused it to change.

There was a discomfort to the scene with Miles and Gwen spidering around the city... which I know was largely intentional due to the romantic tension and the "Gwen lying to Miles", but I just Do Not Like romantic tension between characters that did so well as friends. I really didn't care for Miles's jealousy over Hobie.

The Spider H.Q. stuff... I really WANTED to like... but I always feel a sort of perhaps second-hand embarrassment for the kind of stories that are like "yeah there's literally thousands of us in on this, but we didn't invite you because ummmmm 😬".

In addition to that, I also have a distaste for the trope that's like "Every single rational and highly-qualified individual knows that 'X' is a terrible and destructive idea that can get people killed. However our naive and head-strong main character thinks we should do 'X'! So he fights off literally everyone else (and wins, for no reason, considering any one of the highly qualified individuals should out-class him) because he's the main character, and it'll work out okay just because." Like.. personally I had a very hard time rooting for Miles in all that.

Additionally... why did Miguel even tell him that they were all just gonna sit back and let Miles's dad die? Like I get it was necessary for the plot, but it was done with this expectation that Miles would just be like "oh okay I guess :(".

What I would have liked way more would be this: After Miles saves the (should have died) Police Chief from Pavitr's world, Miguel says Miles has "proven himself" and can come to Spider H.Q. to come be trained. (Really, Miguel has recognized Miles is an active threat as a canon-breaker, and he needs to keep Miles distracted for a few days while the canon event of Miles's dad dying takes place in his own dimension.) Gwen and Peter B. understand what's happening, but are forced to go along with it, behaving strangely the whole time. Then when Miles catches them in a lie and the truth comes out, THAT'S when Miles rebels and tries to fight against everyone to get home...

I also would have liked it if maybe there was like... more of a hint of hope for canon-broken universes to be saved. Like if Miguel's policy was "a universe can be saved after canon-breaking, however it's too risky for all the people in that universe to it's Spider Law that we must let our canon events occur. We all make this sacrifice for everyone's mutual protection." then I'd see Miles's defiance as more of a "well I'm breaking from you and will succeed at the risky thing of saving my universe and my dad". They did a little bit hint at this possibility with the fact that Pavitr's dimension is not necessarily doomed, but like if they made this clearer I'd feel better about Miles's defiance being not doomed to kill his entire dimension.

Hmm, I also wanted more out of Peter B. I know this wasn't his movie, but I didn't totally love that so much of his role in this movie was being against Miles. (Next movie, I guess).

And all of this felt just, way less tight than the OG Spider-verse. The OG hit all its marks like a perfect run of Guitar Hero and exploded into an amazing finale. This one... just meandered a bit. In the OG, Miles's leap of faith hit so perfectly. That was THE moment he could make that leap. Vs in this one when he tells his mom ("mom", lol) that he finally faced everyone and won and whatever... it just didn't really hit right.

BUT, I don't wanna end this on a negative note, so actually I wanna talk about the twist again.

Actually before I talk about the twist again, I wanna talk about the scene with Gwen and her dad. The "I quit being a cop halfway through your speech" (and the fact that this may present the loophole that saves her father now). The unspoken fact that Gwen was maybe avoiding coming back because she knew her dad was doomed and didn't want to deal with it. Her dad choosing her over everything. It just. It's good...

BACK to the twist. I am NOT a "talks in the movie theater" person but I couldn't help going "OH his dad is dead in THIS universe :000000" once the reveal hit. And that reveal was like 10 reveals all at once that had me just :0000000

Aaron walking in. The reveal that the whole city is aflame because, as Miguel had called out earlier, this universe doesn't have its Spiderman. The "what did you do to your hair". The mural for Jeff instead. The reveal that Gwen and Miles are nowhere near each other. The overlap of Jeff returning him in the universe Gwen is in with Aaron returning him in the universe Miles is in. Miles getting knocked out and I instantly knew it was Dimension42!Miles that did it to him. The Prowler is thriving and it's Miles this time.

[habken]

oh my gosh fellow animation student !! I love learning about other people's art school experience, if you'd be willing to share? I think the diversity of assignments and teaching styles and focuses is cool 🩷 love your art as well !!

Yeah I can share a bit ! I’ve really enjoyed the program so far, I think I’ve learned a lot and I’ve gotten the chance to use programs I wouldn’t have access to usually!

First semester I had 9 classes (I’m counting story lab + lecture as two separate ones) and it was honestly pretty difficult to keep up with the workload, especially because I was still finishing up zine work. I had so many assignments, there were many weeks I’d have something due everyday, sometimes multiple things in the same day, so time management was a big struggle and I ended up having to sacrifice the amount of drawing I did for fun and for socmed </3 I think that was the biggest bummer cause it meant I lost both what helped me relieve stress and something that made me happy :/

While the work was intense and time consuming, I really did enjoy what I was making for each class. My favourite classes were character design, storyboarding, and animation. I felt like they were the ones I did best in and I realized loved my animation teacher her classes were really fun and I laughed a lot lol. I also really enjoyed my life drawing class, I have a lot of respect for my teacher, he marked harshly but I learned so much under him and my life drawing skills have improved a lot since september. He also collects bones and brought them in and it was super cool. He told us all the stories of were he’d picked them up, like asking farmers or finding roadkill and cleaning them.

Overall in each class, I really appreciated the critique I’ve gotten and I feel like I’ve really improved! I actually dropped out of art school before and one of the main reasons was because I felt like I wasn’t really getting anything out of the program. My stuff was nowhere near perfect but I was one of the better students so teachers used my stuff as an example rather than see me as a student that also was there to learn. I hated that so I left, and I’m really happy I don’t feel that way in the program I’m in now!

What I will say though is one of the hardest lessons to learn is that you can’t go 100% on every single thing, it’s just straight up impossible unless you don’t take care of yourself and get no sleep. It sucks because you want to do your best and be amazing at everything, but an assignment that’s half assed is better than handing in nothing at all and also better than permanently hurting yourself because you push through the pain and don’t allow yourself any rest.

One of the things that sucked the most assignment wise was my bone portfolio for life drawing, I had so much planned out and I really wanted to do amazing, but I had to cut a lot out to get it done on time, and so the finished project was lacking a lot. I got a decent mark for it, but personally I know it could’ve been so much better, and I just have to live with the sacrifice I made so I could get all my work done on time lol

I don’t want to share too much more about the assignments I did, but I was really proud of my work in my character design class and also my last storyboard assignment, where we took part of a script and made new boards based on it. I got a lot of compliments from the teacher about my attention to detail with subtle and human actions. I’m happy cause that’s the kind of stuff I love portraying and love seeing in films haha.

One other thing is I was so close to failing layout, the last two assignments I left until the very end and almost didn’t get them in one time before teacher’s grades were due, and without them I would’ve failed the class. As it stands, I got over a 90 average so the two assignments made a big difference lmao.

Sorry this was so long lol

[mycatsaidwhat]

things i’ve heard english majors say pt. 17

-not capitalizing I’s in poetry was a moment in tumblr history but that moment is gone and we don’t have to do that anymore 

-have you ever killed off a main character in any of your stories?

Like physically?

-I’m almost done with this stupid discussion post and then I’m gonna go for a stupid walk before I make any more stupid decisions about my stupid life

-I read over 55 poems for the lit mag and I read 46 pages of an 18th century diary for my American revolution class and yet the most productive thing I’ve done today is adding “Scarborough” to my list of name for future pets

-what’s my specialty? Prose-poetry nonfiction vignettes about the generation z experience 

What the fuck? 

-go to class, just don’t run into a guy who you ask to be the father of your children on the way there 

-we’re running on poet time, so the event is gonna go late for sure

-killing off a main character is so original that it’s unoriginal. Living people can make you cry too, John Green and Suzzanne Collins and me

-I’m all concept, no practicality

-someone pry the word slay from my cold dead hands

-I don’t know why I like poems that are, like, gross

-not to be a prude but I would have liked the poem more if it was in a more traditional format

-most shitty poetry of this era can be traced back to the grip that milk and honey had on us for a good year there

-this piece looks like it was mauled by a thesaurus

-don’t look at me using slash marks in a poem it’s a stylist choice and it isn’t cliche yet

-I can hardly keep living at all, in any condition

-I’ve been at college for two and a half years, I know how to bullshit for 10 pages

-I changed what I was going to read six or seven times since we started this open mic–

*deafening* MOOD

-ugh, is it really necessary to submit portfolios for job positions with literary magazines? 

Everyone: YES

-yeah, Buzzfeed used to be into deep long-form journalism. And now it’s not. 

-hey, there’s no mirrors in your apartment

Well duh 

-honey, I’m an English major with minors in political science and American studies, critiquing the American Dream is what I do 

-English majors love to read right that’s what we all say even though we don’t 

-I should really go get a green-colored juice so I eat a vegetable 

-the idea of a very hungry spider patrolling our house is terrifying but also like. Kind of on brand for us

-I titled my creative nonfiction collection “The Hauntings and Homelands of One-Cent Treasures” and I need you to be proud of me that I came up with a title at all

That’s literally so sexy 

-if you tell the teacher that it’s my turn to talk, I will kill myself in front of you

Don’t do that, then I’d have to write a poem about you

You’re welcome

-don’t you get free tuition if your roommate kills themselves?

Is that written down somewhere?

-are we all just unstable then?

We’re creative writing majors, there’s some sort of preamble there to not be okay

-an undergrad never asks for permission. We walk into rooms and say we should be here

[coochiequeens]

A trans teacher who let his classroom be a safe space for the TQ+ type let students literally hump each other in class. And for being the “cool” teacher the students called him “Mom”.

A trans-identified male high school teacher in Anne Arundel County, Maryland has been placed on indefinite leave after troubling information surfaced regarding his conduct with students. 

Willa Hoard, also known as “Billie” was a social studies teacher at Chesapeake High School and ran the school’s GSA (Gay-Straight Alliance) Organization. On October 3, he was placed on indefinite leave by the school, with few details provided to parents at the time.

But on November 2, disturbing video footage began circulating on Twitter from inside Hoard’s classroom. The videos originated on Facebook, first posted by a concerned mother. 

In one video, two students are seen laying on the ground together, with one grinding on or humping the other in the middle of a class lecture. Another clip shows one student sucking at the stomach of another student. Both clips took place while Hoard was present in the room, apparently unconcerned by the behavior. 

Hoard’s classroom was labelled a “safe space” for “LGBTQ+ students” by the school at the direction of the GSA. So whether a student was in class or not, if they reported to a teacher that they needed a “safe space,” they could go to Hoard’s classroom.

But the sexual behavior Hoard allowed in his class was just one of many disturbing components of the story. Hoard had apparently been communicating with students through unmonitored channels, in flagrant violation of safeguarding ethics. In some screenshots, students are seen referring to Hoard as “mom” or “mother.”

At least one concerned parent had taken snaps of Discord and Instagram conversations she found of Hoard having with students to school Principal J. Yore earlier this year, but nothing was reportedly done until the disturbing videos first began to circulate on Facebook. 

On October 3, parents and guardians received a letterfrom Principal Yore who announced that Hoard would be “away from [the] building indefinitely.” 

The letter failed to address the videos showing what had occurred during Hoard’s GSA meeting. While it stated a substitute who will provide “high-quality instruction and support” will be introduced, the letter did not contain any plan to guarantee student safeguarding, nor did it provide any indication of wrongdoing. 

The news of Hoard’s extracurricular communication with students, as well as his leave, was first reported on by independent Maryland journalist Brian Griffiths on October 3.

According to Griffiths, Hoard had only begun transitioning earlier this year, and had previously gone under the name William Edward Hoard.

In a February Medium Post, Hoard wrote: “So it turns out I’m a woman. Surprise! I guess, to be more specific, I am a woman of the transgender variety. Which is to say that I am a woman who was mistaken for a little boy at birth, whose family and society ran with that since my body matched the expectations they had, first for a boy and later for a man, who only fully realized my own womanhood a few years ago and who is just now telling the world that-well intentioned as I am sure it was-we were all wrong about my gender.”

Griffiths also reported that a mother at the school who had clashed with Hoard over safeguarding concerns had been subjected to an attempted peace order as a result of her critiques.

Kristy Rush began publicly criticizing the school’s GSA after seeing posts threatening disciplinary repercussions for “deadnaming” and “misgendering” students or staff. According to Rush, the school had deemed “dead naming” a form of “sexual harassment,” and parents who confronted administration about the policy were told that disciplinary action for the listed offenses was discussed with the GSA and determined on a “case-by-case” basis. 

As her daughter was a GSA member, Rush then went through her phone and computer out of concern. 

She then found that Hoard had been communicating with his students on unofficial apps like Discord, Instagram, and Facebook. Rush withdrew her daughter from the school, reporting that after she joined the club “her behavior began to change.” Rush has also posted several statements regarding Hoard and the GSA on her Facebook, including videos of activity which allegedly occurred in Hoard’s classroom.

In one video Rush posed to her Facebook, a student wearing a banana costume and fishnets is seen dancing. The student’s underwear are clearly visible when she turns around. Rush also posted a video of students “humping” in a classroom during a GSA meeting. Both are the videos now circulating on Twitter.

It was after her vocal criticisms that Hoard then reportedly filed the peace order against Rush. The order was recently dismissed, but Rush has said that local LGBT activists labelled her and other parents who were concerned about Hoard “transphobic” at school board meetings.

According to Libs of TikTok, prior to being put on indefinite leave, Hoard had also encouraged student members of the GSA to call the police to conduct wellness checks on Rush’s daughter, Lulu. 

Police reported to Rush’s homes on two separate instances as they had received calls that Lulu was suicidal and attempted to harm herself when she was merely sleeping.

Although Hoard is not allowed on school grounds, there has been speculation that students have maintained contact with him through private channels. 

He remains active on TikTok and has apparently encouraged graduating students to message him directly on Instagram.  

By Yuliah Alma Yuliah is a junior researcher and journalist at Reduxx. She is a passionate advocate for women's rights and child safeguarding. Yuliah lives on the American east coast, and is an avid reader and book collector.

[super-paper]

If you had to say, do you think this past few arcs of MHA, including the this final one, are rushed? I know many, many people have said it is so far, but like I just don’t see?? It seems that the pacing has been quite good, and the important moments are given impact, But the common complaints I see are that the story isn’t given enough room to breathe or it feels like it is going off a checklist. Do you think so too?

Yes and no. I do think some plot points have been expedited, but not out of lack of consideration for the story/characters or out of a desire to rush the story to an ending (or because Hori "secretly hates mha and just wants to get everything over with," or whatever absurd and insensitive nonsense redditwtter believes).

Rather, I always get the sense that Hori's always frustrated that he can't do even more for the series-- and recent interviews only cement this impression. MHA is his passion project and it's clear that he loves it deeply, but the constraints of this medium and his health problems sometimes make it difficult for him to fully realize that passion. Like, I don't want to overstep my boundaries as a fan and make insensitive assumptions, but-- as someone who also loves storytelling and art, I imagine it must be so unbearably frustrating to not be able to tell your story exactly the way you want to because of those aforementioned constraints. Despite that, he doesn't give up-- and as much as I want him to rest, I also can't help being in complete awe of his art/composition and how he delivers this level of quality on a near-weekly basis. He has an absurd level of talent.

Anyway. I feel that overall, act three has been paced just fine. The final act started out a bit rough with the dark hero and starnstripe arcs feeling mildly disjointed from each other-- but Hori found his rhythm again by the start of the war and thus far has managed to tie the themes and arcs of his core cast together in a satisfying way. I feel like people who claim that the pacing has been bad are kind of letting the cold, unrelenting march of real time cloud their judgement (MEMENTO MANGA AND MEMENTO MORI BROSKIS 🤘)-- but if you go back and binge read from the start of act 3 to now (306-405), it's easier to see that the final act has been paced well imho.

I've also mentioned this before, but, I feel people need to take the fact that Horikoshi introduced a lot of MHA's characters and plot elements when he was healthier into consideration with their critiques. Ongoing manga should not be critiqued the same way that one would critique a finished book-- understanding of the medium and its constraints are absolutely factors that need to be considered before you start bashing things like pacing or arguing that things have been "retconned," I feel.

And I also feel that as fans, we do have a responsibility to be aware of the grueling work conditions of this medium and the effects it has on the author, and then temper our expectations accordingly instead of expecting Horikoshi to neatly resolve every single subplot or minor character arc (For example: "Why aren't Momo, Denki, and Kirishima getting their moments in the final war?" bc they all got their big moments during the first war; "Why didn't we -see- Izuku and Toshinori developing their relationships with ALL of the 1A kids, Class 1A vs Deku and IronMight felt so forced!" *afo voice* BECAUSE THEY'RE EXTRAS-- bc this would be an absurd request even If Horikoshi didn't have health problems. It's perfectly fine to narrow the focus of Izuku's relationships down to certain key members of his class to emphasize the effect he has on people and narrow the focus of Toshi's relationships down to two or three other students to show his growth as a teacher-- the story would become excessively bloated & lose focus if we tried developing *every single side character/relationship*. This is literally basic writing 101).

I do agree that glossing over certain emotional beats in the aftermath of the first war was unfortunate and unlike what we'd come to expect from Hori (Midnight's death being treated like a footnote instead of a chance to explore the concept of personal loss in the students is the most egregious example)-- but for the past year or so we've seen a return to form in emphasizing/exploring the emotions of the core characters, so I do have high hopes for the finale/epilogue of Act 3!

[sleeptowns]

a year (or so) of fics, in retrospect

once every handful of years i remember to look back at the collection of projects i’ve finished recently and to simulate a critique as if i’m an art school student — and also as if i’m the haunted teacher’s assistant who wants to be gentle on the prof’s behalf but actually hates your work and also i am the other students who have been sitting there for seven hours straight and can’t offer much more except say, “it’s fine.” a one-man critique day, all parts played by me. 

sometimes i do this and the last period of writing has been drier than a pizza slice left in the winter sun, but this time i’m lucky that these last couple of years have been the closest i’ve had to a writing pax romana.

with that said, i’m not entirely sure how valid i am whenever i think these days that my writing has gone through some drastic changes in the last year; i’m not even sure if it’s accurate to call any of it growth, though i’m aware it’s the sort of thing i won’t have a clear perspective on until a few years after the fact. but i do know that i’m lucky to have so many works to act as markers for different periods of my writing, and while it’s far from a sure method of evaluation, there are parts there that i’m able to at least assess, if not outright measure. in the last year or so, my fics have started mutating towards — not really a separate sort of output than my previous ones, but definitely older somehow. older and quite different because of it: stylistic choices i would have steered clear of before, failed and/or lacklustre genre explorations, even relationship dynamics that were previously unfamiliar territory. my most recent fic feels like a culmination of all my attempts at wrestling with my writing in the ring, and now that it’s a few weeks behind me and i get to look at it with fresh(er) eyes and accept that it’s my favourite child (i’m sorry flls... you’re not too far behind), it’s also reminded me that i have a now overdue fic roundup to write. 

tangentially speaking, it’s interesting that you never really hear about self-taught writers. self-taught artists, yes, and self-taught musicians, but never quite self-taught writers. i don’t exactly purport to have taught myself everything i know about writing, and i know you can’t really be self-anything as a writer; what i lack in technique and finesse learned from proper writing classes, teachers, and/or workshops, i owe to the media i’ve consumed, good and bad, as well as to the creators i love and to all the thoughtful readers i’ve had over the years. if i’m self-taught in any way, then the self as a teacher was reared by countless others who have honed in me a limitless capacity to be an observer to stories, mine and all else. 

this post is just a roundup of all my fics from december 2020 to january 2023, including only the ones with enough substantial content to write about, which disqualifies a lot of the fics i left at one or five scenes max but qualifies the ones i abandoned at one chapter. just a little something for me to reference as i figure out where to take my writing next and hopefully move towards some kind of ✨ growth ✨ lol 

・・・・・・

FIRST LOVE, LATE SPRING december 2020 to march 2021, jujutsu kaisen trial element | dual pov romance, multimedia (?)

i covered a bit of the early chapters and conceptualization for flls in a separate post, but as i was reflecting on how to write a continuation, it occurred to me that if there’s a clear before and after to the current state of my writing, then the first portion of flls chapter five is where i’ll find it. 

when i was drafting my 58393th version of that chapter — nothing was working, none of it was the right vibe i needed, most of them too detached or too on-the-nose but never the perfect middle — i happened upon trying second person pov by accident. i’m not the biggest fan of second person (though to be fair, i don’t think anyone is) but by that point i was so sick of writing and rewriting this one section and not getting anywhere that i wondered if i should just lean all the way into that disgust. why not do something i hated entirely? and act of desperation as that was, the moment i started writing in curt, nauseating second person, i knew it was the right choice. 

the thing about writing flls!yuuji is that he felt both alive and unfamiliar. flls!megumi was easier to understand, even if he was trickier to write — but yuuji, i had to really work to get to know. one thing about him that i knew to be careful about from the very beginning of jjk is that it would be too surface level to think this boy is an extrovert. yuuji is usually painted as an energetic, sunny person, and i don’t think he’s not that, but there’s something about yuuji that’s also very internal and almost innately… isolated? i don’t know if that’s necessarily the right word, but there’s a lot about him as a character that’s out of view or grasp, which ironically i find people taking at face value. in flls, he required a lot more balance than megumi, who was a dam waiting to be relieved of its duties. flls!yuuji knows who or what he is — how could he not, when he’s never had a choice but to be this person, this kid who lost his grandpa, this kid who needs love but doesn’t know how to ask for it because he doesn’t even know there are forms of it he can ask for? 

how to write a character like that? how to nudge someone who doesn’t reveal even at his most revealing towards the christmas eve fight i had set up in the beginning of flls chapter one? back before chapter six of flls came out, i saw a lot of people argue that megumi and yuuji just needed to communicate, and yes, of course they do, but i was also very adamant as i started chapter five that the real tragedy about them is that communication will do nothing in the end. even if they magically became master communicators about their needs and wants and insecurities, none of it will change the fact that neither of them are ready to love and be loved by the other person. at least not in any way that constitutes a relationship that feels like love. 

i think that’s the key to writing the relationship in flls. it was never a question that they loved each other, and how much. never. this is probably the first piece of ~growth i appreciated about flls. it would be easy to write a romance where the main conflict is them not knowing the other loved them back, but flls got rid of that quite early. i left no room for doubt — or at least this is the hope — that flls!itfs loved each other in a way no one else would be able to compare to. they’re it for each other. but if it had been as simple as portraying that, then i never would have finished flls at all, and it definitely wouldn’t have been my longest fic at the time. 

instead — what if it was a given that they loved each other, and it still wasn’t enough? what kind of story can we spin about that? what kind of questions and answers can we find?

that’s actually such a pretentious way to frame that, but the fact of the matter is that i needed to not waste space now that we’re five chapters in. this is the beginning of the end. how do we shift gears and take the tone of the entire story along with it? i don’t know if there’s something about second person pov that’s just inherently full of dread, but it did quite a bit of work in chapter five. it felt disembodying for me as a writer, and i could only hope the same for readers. i was really, really worried some people will give up reading altogether thinking all of chapter five will be in second person, but i didn’t want to compromise. it was going to be second person for most of their real relationship or nothing: vaguely dissociative, intensely drained, with no room to actually enjoy being each other’s boyfriend. the main challenge was to not go from zero to a hundred in a snap. i had the room to do so in only one chapter, but i had to find a way to keep a tight rein on the pace or else the whole fic will fail. 

there also had to be love. and longing. and a desperation to make it work. i think that was yuuji in a nutshell — someone desperate to make it work, whatever this thing is. that’s what constitutes his strengths and his weaknesses, in canon and in flls. i wanted to find a way to make that palpable to a reader the way it was palpable to me while writing yuuji in second person. somewhere along making sure to tether myself to him by knowing what pieces of media he’d reference (high school musical and fullmetal alchemist) and his life outside of megumi (work, basketball, tea with nanami, skateboarding), i had to also drown with yuuji in the hope that the reader would follow. chapter three afforded me the luxury of only examining yuuji from the omniscience of a writer writing in third person — i could dismantle him through the therapy scene, could show myself and the reader a way to understand him, but i could not take us there to where he is. 

i don’t know how successful the second person pov was, ultimately, though i’d be lying if i said it wasn’t what i thought was truly best at the time. it probably wasn’t that creative to anyone but me, but it gave me a nudge towards different ways to explore… vibes. atmosphere, maybe, is the more formal word for it. if not for the second person pov choice in flls, i wouldn’t have been nudged towards kamo’s newsletter to act as the midway point of the story, the last palate cleanser i’ll allow myself and the reader, and i never would have written please let me love you forever and days of brutalism and hairpin turns the way i did. i owe a lot to that tiny but crucial choice, as does flls as a whole. everything that followed that section — the fight, the aftermath of the fight, the breakup — relied on it to make themselves work, and it’s funny (and valuable to note) how it’s something as seemingly inconsequential as a pov choice that set the tone. 

especially because there’s nothing special, really, about those following scenes. the christmas eve fight, megumi’s conversation in the car with geto, the break-up itself — all of it followed my standard flow of dialogue. sure, there’s more tension when you’re writing an argument, let alone when writing scenes that will inevitably lead to a break-up, but all scenes, particularly dialogue, have to feel fraught with some kind of energy and inevitable anyway. for the remainder of chapter five and six, i just coasted on the tone set up by the beginning of chapter five, and that’s knowledge that has served me quite well since. atmosphere goes a long, long way, and with my writing style, a healthy balance between dialogue and introspection will take me the rest of the way to the finish line. the part of flls that i’ve heard people find the most heartbreaking were also its simplest. all of chapter six is dedicated to one wedding, and chapter seven to one evening. i wish i could say there was a trick there, that i agonized over how to write such important scenes, but my personal takeaway is that there is no trick. the point is that you get the story to a point where those scenes write themselves; there’s nowhere else for the flow to go, and geto’s gentle unpacking of megumi, the last few scenes before megumi and yuuji break up, and the bittersweet reunion after two necessary years — i can only hope they carried a sense of “this is the only way it could have gone” the way they did for me. geto doesn’t tell megumi anything we don’t already know from earlier chapters, if only just now put into words. megumi and yuuji also don’t tell each other anything, in the breakup scene and the getting back together sections, that we haven’t already gleaned from them. from the moment kamo’s newsletter ended and we headed into act two — everything was just wrapping up what i left for myself.  

it’s worth noting that i did try to complicate the final chapter a bit. i tried a split pov between yuuji and megumi at first, as a way to finally reconcile their two perspectives, but that felt too cheesy. i tried an outing to nagoya for nobara’s birthday, tried to divide the pov amongst the people in their lives (junpei, nanami, nobara, etc), and even to do my usual cyclical structure of starting with the same image we did in chapter two, this time in yuuji’s funabashi apartment — but those all felt too on the nose. i trusted my flls readers. maybe that’s what all it came down to. i trusted them to know these people, and this story, and i didn’t want to do too much and compromise that trust. and in the end, i would argue, returning to simplicity made the story what it was. 

something i love to think about is how to explain my fics to others. i know it’s been said a lot that the ao3 tagging system has convinced a mini generation of writers that tags and names of tropes are all you need to pitch/be pitched a story, and i wholeheartedly agree. or i might just be terrible at advertising my work, with an obnoxious aversion to learning how to do it better to boot, but to be fair, i think my premises are all just as boring as they are ridiculous. flls is a college au with two friends with benefits turned fake boyfriends turned real boyfriends turned exes. that’s it. there’s nothing else in the plot but that. yet it’s a lot more to me than that, and sometimes that’s all you have when you send a story out into the world. the knowledge that it was briefly yours, and now it isn’t, but that doesn’t at all devalue what you’ve taken away from spending time with it. 

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US april 2021, jujutsu kaisen trial element | short form, childhood friends

this is one of a handful of attempts at writing a trope i don’t love all that much, inspired largely by the atmosphere in “horatio” by t.j klune. i was very conflicted about this fic when i first published it, primarily because it was so short and written in a sparse style i didn’t know how to evaluate, and partly because it didn’t feel substantial. in a post i’ve put on private since, i’d written: 

what if i repeat the same themes in another context? that doesn’t make the theme carry any less weight as long as i put heart and sincerity and compassion into how i’m writing about it. there’s something that is equally as much self-deprecation as it is borderline vanity in me placing these rules upon myself. i’ve always known i wrote first and foremost out of love, out of what makes me excited to write — and that still applies here. i was thrilled to be able to experiment with a short, snappy fic. and that’s far more important, isn’t it, than whether i’m writing a different dissertation angle on love or friendship or family or career? it doesn’t feel like it, no, but it should, because i know it is. i know that what matters to me is that writing is fun and compassionate, and i know that as long as one person finds comfort in a world i’ve built, it’s enough.

i don’t sound very convinced there, and i wasn’t. i still don’t know what to make about us. i like that it’s short, and i endeavour to write more short fics with nothing specific or significant about them — but it’s hard to stomach its existence, let alone see it as something to love. it just feels so… not empty, but definitely less than what i’m used to asking from myself. it’s short, it’s sweet, it’s snappy. it’s also formulaic in its own sparse way, and i think it works because of the sweetness, but the truth is that if i hadn’t written it for itafushi week, i would never have greenlit it for publishing. i still wrestle nowadays with wanting to delete it, but it matters so little to me that i can’t even justify that much. it’s a weird limbo of a story, though i still hope to explore this kind of writing more in the future. 

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SOME KIND OF WE june 2021, jujutsu kaisen trial element | sequel to existing complete story

broke my own rules here by revisiting a story past its run, but to be very fair, it was less out of sentiment (though there was also that) so much as me startling at my first proper reread of the latter half of flls and realizing there are still unresolved arcs for megumi because the final chapter set two years later only had yuuji’s pov. not many of them, and none especially urgent, but i thought it would be a good opportunity to reorient the story to something quieter and more mature than what the central conflicts in flls left room for. i’m not convinced the back-and-forth between pieces of their recent few months being together and the present evening worked as seamlessly as i wanted it to, but it was still a nice opportunity to use a non-linear narrative to explore the growth and development of a relationship that i left at quite the bittersweet open-endedness. what was only delicately certain by the end of flls was made concretely certain through some kind of we, even if it did run a bit too sentimental and saccharine. but i think it can be forgiven, considering what yuuji and megumi went through in flls proper. 

the main challenge of this fic was figuring out which portions of their life post-flls were worth including, and the first draft had five potential sections:

tokyo, for megumi’s first visit back after moving to chiba, mostly dedicated to him realizing that home — after being rooted for so long to this city, this one apartment with his dad, the same neighborhood and transit lines, to the gojo-geto household — now finally belongs somewhere else, with someone else. 

funabashi, most of which was preserved in the version that was published. 

sendai, to visit grandpa itadori’s grave, which i decided to streamline into a single scene at the end of the final some kind of we draft to cut away the excess and break it down to the core of why i wanted them to make this visit — which is to hammer home for yuuji that he isn’t alone anymore, that he has someone taking care of him and loving him without fail and with care, and to give megumi the agency to solidify, for his own sake, that he’s someone who means the whole universe to yuuji. enough that what place is his will always and solely be his, and enough that megumi will be allowed to love and take care of another person in a way that’s both eternal and an ever-evolving work in progress. 

okinawa, for a trip that was only referenced as a backdrop in the final version but that i still like to think a lot about even now. a cc anon said once that the gojo-geto household must be so lonely with all the kids grown up, but as i talked about in another reply once (it’s too far back for me to have time to dig out at this point), i do love to imagine yuuji and megumi being uncles to the next generation, even if not outright parents themselves. sometimes you don’t know what you’re capable of giving as someone who was denied so much as a kid until you see someone so young, a stranger to the world, and know what to give them precisely because you didn’t have it once. and between yuuji not having much family and megumi’s life being complicated by the fact that he has too much family, i think they’re well-equipped to be uncles to tsumiki’s kids and beyond. and i was tempted for a bit to show this in the annual okinawa trips i mentioned in the final version of skow, but there just isn’t enough space without becoming superfluous. 

kuantan, to visit nanami, mostly to reconsolidate the rather serious interaction megumi and nanami had in flls into something gentler, considering he’s still family to yuuji and while nanami might say yuuji doesn’t need his blessing, yuuji will want it anyway. i never did end up writing this part, so it’s not exactly canon to the au and i’m hesitant to make it so, but the idea was to end with megumi asking for both nanami’s blessing and help to propose to yuuji on that malaysia trip.

the end result for this fic was a little lesson for me in cutting and cutting and keeping my hand light on the source, until i’m left with what i consider necessary. the final version of some kind of we is more a collection of vignettes than a straightforward account of megumi and yuuji’s life together post-flls, which i found much more strangely fitting. i feel like i spent so much of flls trying to get them to a point where they’re ready to be with each other, and i just wanted to dedicate skow to them not just making it work but building love on top of the foundations they secure. it’s one thing to portray that through a whole fic dedicated to each milestone; it’s another to write ordinary moments that are made extraordinary because they have chosen that for and with each other. neither of them say i love you out loud in the entire fic, but i wanted there to be no doubt that they do say it. that they do love each other, and that this part isn’t the obstacle it used to be. they’re just some kind of them, together, and this time it doesn’t feel bittersweet for me to send them off to the world for good knowing there’s love falling out of the spaces between each vignette i wrote. 

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HAND IN UNLOVABLE HAND october 2021, jujutsu kaisen trial element | fantasy au

yikes. one of two fics in this round-up that i abandoned at chapter one. started this because an idea occurred to me while reading the atlas six, wrote until i had to stop, then didn’t look back once even when it would have served me to. 

i flew too eagerly close to the sun with this one, truly, but as far as intentions go, i think both my mind and heart were in the right place. it’s quite clear where this one went wrong: i had neither time nor the energy to dedicate to it; i started it on the same whim i start most other things but this time didn’t have the passion for it — and i confess i just didn’t have the patience required to work on writing the story i wanted to write.

it was also one of those lessons in how often big ideas — or an attempt at them — cannot sustain a story. i had what i thought were clear ideas and intentions about the themes i wanted to cover in this one (the downfall of religious devotion, reconstruction, academic institutions versus personal/individual responsibility, all of which just look like buzzwords now that i’m typing them out, omg), but it just didn’t leave room for the kind of story i like to write. i guess my main takeaway here is that the pitfall of high(er) concept genre stories is that you have to make space for the world at the cost of room for character writing; it’s just the nature of how much space in the narrative you can allot for each individual aspect of the story, and with stuff like fantasy and sci-fi, the worldbuilding takes up a significant amount more than your run-of-the-mill slice of life story where the only world i have to worry about sketching is where someone lives and works. 

i do like some parts? it’s kind of crude, how i tried to reconcile my writing style with genre-specific bits, but it’s not all terrible. this sequence is alright:

Megumi was seven the first time he restored something. 

Every part of it had been an accident, and he remembers it now only in fragments. The wet rag in his hand as he wiped down the dining hall tables, having to climb the chairs to get to each corner. The horrible echo of something shattering in the kitchen, where Tsumiki had been tasked to do all the dishwashing for the evening. The panic on her face when Megumi got to her, both of them crowding around the shards of ceramic left by what was once a plate. The spill of harsh candlelight from above the sink, the harsher shadows it sent dancing around the broken glass. 

But he does remember the remembering. The knowing of what the plate had looked like once, the image behind his eyes anchoring him in place as he latched onto the curl of the shadows on the floor. It would be more intuitive, more rudimentary, than anything he’d learn to do later in life, propelled by the worry on Tsumiki’s face and the footsteps he swore he could hear coming towards them from the other end of the servants’ quarters they called home back then—but it had taken only a single blink for the shadows to cover the plate, tighten around it into darkness, and then retreat to where they were, leaving a clean, untouched plate in the middle of the kitchen floor. 

it could be better, but it still could be worse. and i do like the overall architectural imagery and how i managed to scrounge up some standard fare coziness somewhere in the cold, almost-medieval setting. 

as far as disastrously failed ventures go, this one could be a lot more embarrassing than it is. i’m not mad at it. it’s far from good enough, and if i didn’t write it in such a frenzy, i probably never would have allowed it to be published. but. it’s a useful failure. 

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PLEASE LET ME LOVE YOU FOREVER march to june 2022, blue period trial element | five-character gen dynamic, multimedia

what a... headache of a project. bit off more than i could chew without choking and decided to take even more bites each new chapter because why the hell not, apparently. i do appreciate how un-edited this fic is, despite it all. it feels the most bleeding-heart of all my fics from this past year or so, and it’s nice to look back at this and know exactly when i shifted my approach to it altogether because, again, why not. it’s such a valuable “why not?” to have. it’s nice when i don’t feel quite as… under surveillance? when writing a story. and i get to just go off the rails a bit. a lot, actually, with this one. it’s nothing crazy because i don’t think i can write anything crazy (though i think hairpin turns had blinks of it), but there’s definitely plenty of choices that i’m surprised i decided on with a sober mind. 

to be fair, they weren’t exactly mindblowingly successful. if i were to rate this fic out of five, despite all my fondness for it, i’d maybe give it a 2.75. it’s a well-earned mark, and i have a special soft spot for people who have read it, but i’m not mentally proud of it. emotionally so, maybe, in whatever way i can be, but if this fic didn’t feel so intimate with a much cozier readership and comment section, i’d be a lot crueler to it than i am, i think. as it is, it makes for wonderful conversation and reflection for me, and it’s always fun to consider how a story about a disbanded idol group became a metaphor for childhoods lost to growing up too fast and also involved alternate universes. 

but cycling through five povs really is too much, i think, and if it was exhausting for me to write then i imagine it was just as exhausting to read. a nicer alternative would have been to stick to one pov for each chapter, but even that was a lot to juggle considering there were also smaller dynamics going on in the background with each character. within the core group of five alone, there were thirty-one variations of scenes to write, including individual introspection and pairs — and that’s not to take into consideration trios, or groups of four or the whole five plus a secondary character, for example. i don’t know how i pulled off my usual character study here. i don’t know if i did. 

another thing about this fic is that i’m still not sure why a time loop didn’t work. i wanted it so badly to work. i thought it would be fun, but i guess time loops aren’t necessarily compatible with prose. there’s something about repetition and looping that’s best visually, but even if i had been able to stick to imagery and vibes, it would have gotten tedious at some point for me and a reader considering the quantity/length i tend to need. just something to keep in mind if i get the urge to keep trying time loops in future works and wonder why it’s not sticking seamlessly. as with a lot of things in life, if you have to force it then maybe it’s not meant to be there. or maybe you have to go shortform, narrow down the playing field?

one thing i’d commend this fic for is how it managed to unpack so much between dynamics that barely exist in canon. that, and how it managed to pack so many formats into one story — song lyrics, album reviews, tweets, a play, nonfiction, a profile, wikipedia pages, messages, i don’t even know how many more — while maintaining a semi-cohesive tone throughout. there was a lot of fun there, in figuring out how to adapt your typical characterizing to a format you haven’t tried before: how would kuwana write a preface to hashida’s book? would this particular character include rhymes in their song lyrics, or are they more of a diaristic stream of consciousness kind of lyricist? what medium best translates this character’s personality? what medium best conveys this dynamic’s under-the-skin knowing of each other? who sees more than the others, and how can i show that without using the same structure of two or three characters talking in a setting that doesn’t change? 

my favourite part is probably the fake album review at the top of chapter four? there’s something giddying about the research-like quality of figuring out how to perfect the tone that music reviewers tend to default to, but also sobering about how easily adapted this fake idol group’s history is from real life. the easiest part of the entire fic was making this group feel real to me, situated in the real life history of j-idols and beyond, even if i admit to shying away from being explicit about the worst things that would still have been grounded in reality. some references to real life idol incidents worked a little too well, but there was also how clean it felt to spin fictional lore for this group in that fake album review. from their individual songwriting styles to tobi’s own background in-story to the kind of themes and concepts a faux pretentious pitchfork reviewer might like to talk about — it was just incredibly fun. i don’t know when else i’d get the chance to write something like that. everything else paled in comparison to it soon after, though i do also tolerate whatever my writing was doing at the end of chapter five, even if some parts of that chapter also feel lacklustre through a hypercritical lens. it doesn’t hold up under extremely rigorous scrutiny, even if i consider the fact that i’d just wanted the fic wrapped up as soon as i could at the time. it could be better, more so than all the other fics in this post could be better. but i don’t mind too much that it isn’t better. i mind it a little. just a little. but its flawedness is also what forced the multimedia format to happen in the first place, and that, i like a lot.

there’s a fair amount that this fic did quite more than alright, i think. if nothing else, it was useful as a playground that i didn’t have to be too finicky about. it will be one of those projects i’ll look back at someday and laugh deliriously over because how did i think that was the only way to make it work, but with the facilities i had at the time, it’s definitely not a shitshow. it has a lot of heart — which doesn’t necessarily redeem awful works, but in passable ones, those parts of the writing meet each other halfway. please let me love you forever holds its own weight, which is plenty more than i can say for most of my other experiments. plus it contains a background relationship that is not at all the focus of the story yet will probably haunt me forever. it’s always the ones you least expect to matter that will ripple further down the line, etc.

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LOSER TAKES ALL july 2022, tomodachi game trial element | soulmates, mystery au

another unpublished little guy left to rot at one complete chapter. i don’t really have any huge problems with this one, just that i tired of its demands very quickly and didn’t have enough attachment to the dynamics in it to muster up any motivation for. but tomodachi game, and especially yuuichi and kei, are so uniquely positioned for a fic like this, and i don’t resent past me for approaching it this way at all. is a soulmate bond that fosters a telepathic link between people who come back from a brush with death kind of an unhinged premise for a mystery au? yes. but so is remodeling a breakfast restaurant with my mom and the guy i didn’t know confessed to me in high school and who is now literally displaced in more ways than one by said remodeling, and even also acting is all i know so here i am trying to find the love of my life by dating anyone for an entire month on a first come first serve basis only to be shocked when that doesn’t work. 

again. boring yet equally ridiculous elevator pitches. if i cemented anything for a fact from this abandoned wip, it’s that my premises have always been questionable, and that time and time again, the only path forward is to lean all the way into it — which i did with hairpin turns, thankfully. hand in unlovable hand and loser takes all are apart by about a year, and there’s palpable change here in my approach to worldbuilding even if i abandoned each for unrelated reasons. granted, i might just be better suited to one side of speculative fiction than the other, but that’s such a copout. when it comes to trying new things in writing, the “if he wanted to, he would” logic applies, even if the he in question ultimately finds that it doesn’t work the way he wants it to (like in hand in unlovable hand). 

loser takes all worked fine for me, and i loved the inherent intimacy in having two incredibly smart and perceptive characters in each other’s minds while trapped in this soulmate bond that isn’t necessarily romantic. not to mention yuuichi is a deeply unwell person, and his ways of showing attachment to kei range from drastically protective, such as offering to fire the receptionist that was rude to kei, to:

Sometimes, watching Kei asleep right against him, Yuuichi wants to press his lips against Kei’s pulse. To feel it warm and alive under his mouth, to hear that little sigh of ticklish laughter Kei does if someone so much as runs a soft cloth against his neck. 

And sometimes—sometimes Yuuichi is also seized by a strong thought, a strong urge, to sink something sharp into that pulse. His teeth, a fork, a shard of broken glass. Sink it in hard, deep enough to leave a bloody bruise, a scar, a puncture. Hard enough to maybe even sever that heartbeat, to tear it, slit it into silence somehow. Hard enough that it feels almost the kinder choice to imagine himself wrapping his hands around Kei’s neck—tightening them without hesitation, itself a mercy of a kind as the blood quickly drains out of Kei’s cheeks. Yuuichi imagines then how Kei will struggle, whether he’ll kick or bite Yuuichi, if he’ll reverse their positions with one twist of a martial arts trained body, or if he’ll just accept it, resign himself to it knowing that not even this, if it’s Yuuichi, could possibly be meaningless.

But it would be. It would be meaningless to kill Kei. Meaningless because Kei is singular in his position within Yuuichi’s life, loyal and intelligent and a force to be reckoned with like no one else is, not even Yuuichi’s sister, not even the only friend he trusts most. Meaningless because every time Yuuichi pictures it, every time he wonders if he’ll have it in him to press two killer’s hands around Kei’s neck, it doesn’t take long for the accompanying sting to come like a splash of boiling water on exposed skin. A kind of scolding, a kind of reminder, that just as much as it would be difficult for anyone to kill Kei—so impervious to physical harm, whose broken bones and bleeding wounds will always heal even if he jumps off a twenty-story building—it would be just as difficult for Yuuichi to do him harm and survive it without any damage done to his own heart at his own hands. 

the temptation to keep writing this is not entirely absent, to be honest. but a mystery takes care and attention, and i just don’t have that in me the way this story deserves. but this fic was delicious to write, and i think it gave me a hunger to write more dynamics that feel just as juicy. dynamics that aren’t necessarily geared towards healthy love, but ones that ooze if poked anyway. 

i definitely want to revisit the telepathy plot device i explored here someday, but for now, this fic, abandoned wip as it is, is kind of the goldilocks midpoint between failed venture (hand in unlovable hand), almost-passable venture (please let me love you forever), and basically there if being there counts taking your literal first baby step into a new frontier (days of brutalism and hairpin turns).

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HONORARY MENTIONS

i don’t mean to ignore the canonverse fics (here and where you are, i’ll give you something so real, detour, and the two manhwa fics, that is) out of favouritism, but i’m afraid there’s nothing much to say…? not that these weren’t lessons in themselves, but canonverse takes a quarter of the energy and brainpower to write, and i’ll be lying if i don’t go about them essentially all no thoughts, head empty. i talked a bit about here and where you are here, while the logic for detour, which i was happy to write for and based on exchanges with a friend, is pretty self-explanatory. i did love getting to write a character like loid (and i’m relieved that the chapters that follow the ones i took into consideration for that fic hold up the characterization i imagined for him) + it was interesting to give sexual content and the philosophy of desire or whatever a shot in i’ll give you something so real. they were effective at what i needed them to do — which is, really, just to check the temperature of the water. i always feel so rusty when any amount of time passes without me writing, and these small, low-maintenance fics work as a burst of ice cold water before jumping in. i don’t value these fics any less for their place in The Process, and i might even be extra happy when someone likes them, but as far as Advancing The Craft 🤢 goes, all of these are simply necessary bridges to get to the next checkpoint. sometimes you gotta scratch the tip of the pen before the ink starts bleeding like it’s supposed to. words are the same. it takes a while each time to get my writing to a place i recognize, and sometimes a while is an entire fic before i can write the next chapter for an ongoing multi-chaptered story.

(that said: shoutout to the particular flavour of introspection in detour, within which my favourite line was written the literal minute before i sent it off, and a big heart emoji for the fact that i’ll give you something so real unfolds in a span of barely half a day. both are very interesting to think about moving forward.)

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DAYS OF BRUTALISM AND HAIRPIN TURNS january 2023, blue lock trial element | a romantic triad, sci-fi, memory loss (finally!) 

my angel. my darling. my love. who is far from being perfect but is the closest i’ve had to at least being sure i won’t just wake up one day loathing the soul out of it. i’ll laugh at it, probably. i’ll think it’s hilarious and cringy someday soon. but it’s a work i can’t not appreciate wholeheartedly. 

my cc tells me that the first time i put it on record that i won’t mind doing a blue lock fic is may 16, 2022, and the fact that i didn’t even make it a year and did so in the most Hard To Pitch If This Was An Actual Novel And Not Just A Fic For Fun way possible is worth at least a salute of disbelief, i think. my journal from my writing hiatus also tells me i’ve been trying to make memory loss work since 2020 and managed to scratch the itch minutely with here and where you are (which is… a pretty janky piece of work, looking back now) — but i’m just really, really content, even proud, of how i managed to weave it into a fic adapted from a story about football battle royale. 

it’s almost kind of unnerving how satisfied i am with the premise of hairpin turns, even if the execution leaves quite a bit to be desired — as it always will, really, and therein is the joy of finding the next writing project. i laughed a lot at myself while writing hairpin turns, and of all the inside jokes that my works started as, this one is by far the fic to feel most like it — a fun little joke that got funnier and funnier the more of it i wrote, and so i wrote more, chasing that laughter until it was time to catch my breath. and i think with how much i require writing to feel urgent and single-minded to be fun, there’s a part of me that’s easily... bored, for lack of a better word, when something doesn’t give me that. without this fast-paced almost-violence, i get bored and restless, the way i was around all the projects i had lined up after please let me love you forever. i’m making a face as i type that but maybe i just mean to say that there were a good few months there where nothing scratched the itch in need of stimulation. i’d write scenes and they wouldn’t be awful, wouldn’t even be bad, but they weren’t exciting to me. they weren’t thrilling. they didn’t feel like i was dissecting anything, just poking at skin with a scalpel and rolling my eyes when i didn’t draw blood from a dead body — you know? 

but projects have an uncanny way of arriving in your life when you most need it, and just when i have peeled and replaced my wallpaper and assembled and reassembled my keyboards and poked at this manuscript i refuse to rewrite until i did a warm-up that felt substantial enough, the blue lock anime started airing. i knew vaguely what dynamics i wanted to write even back when i had only the manga, but i know i could not have tortured this fic out of me then. not before please let me love you forever, not before loser takes all, not even before all my failed attempts at pitching speculative fiction stories to myself at 3 AM and gritting my teeth at my own disgust. the best aus fall into your lap fully formed and fully realized before you even know what you’ll be shaping it into; they’re a little predestined that way, and aus might be why i owe fanfiction my certainty that the author is just as possessed by the narrative if the narrative has its own pace and direction. i think that’s logic that should be applicable to original projects as well. 

i did hesitate in the very beginning of hairpin turns because sci-fi was such a huge deviation from my comfort zone and i have the misfortune of being both a taurus sun and an enneagram type five. i’ve never tried writing proper sci-fi, not even a little, let alone enough to be comfortable with knowing where to start something that wasn’t merely regular slice of life with a slight sprinkling of specfic. i was sure my writing style wouldn’t be a good match for it. i still don’t think it’s a match, necessarily. my prose is a bit too sentimental for some of the demands sci-fi asked of me — and that’s fine. i wouldn’t know the precise nature of that incompatibility if i hadn’t jumped into the pool of sharks and came out of the tank somehow, disbelievingly, friends with them. i began wary of relying too much on technobabble since i’m not exactly the most stem-oriented person around, but even the background of this au wrote itself, half because blue lock was a shockingly perfect match for the world i had in my mind and half because i found that the technology i imagined for the plot was both possible and easy to break down into the narrative. even now i’m still shocked at how scientifically sound the core pitch of the story is, and the fact that it married itself well to both the overarching plot and the character dynamics i wanted to highlight was just icing on a cake i would have tried to politely finish anyway. 

it could very well be that hairpin turns is just a fluke, its parts too seamlessly glued to each other that i’m not sure it could have been anything else except luck doing the work there, but i think there’s also credit to be found in how nothing is sacred in blue lock. these are characters who have done ridiculous things and said ridiculous things, and it was a matter of matching their energy. therein is the same lesson from loser takes all: if i’ve always known that characters decide the pace, tone and atmosphere of the story and everything else in it, then doesn’t it also go to say that in order to write a story far out of my comfort zone, i need only start with characters far outside of my comfort zone?

i think with au fics in particular, a lot of the work begins with justifying why certain things are in character for them in this universe based on what we know from canon. but because those boundaries are expanded by what blue lock innately is, it doesn’t feel as weird to posit something like, what if you and your android bf get tasked with rescuing his older brother’s android bf and find out along the way that you might also both be in love with your childhood best friend? as with most other of my initial ideas, this quickly spiraled into something significantly different — which luckily for me included the memory loss idea that i’ve been wanting to explore for forever now. proper sci-fi was the perfect backdrop for it, and bachira the perfect person to willingly do it, and isagi and rin the perfect people to be left in the aftermath of that loss. stars aligned, truly. i’m incredibly grateful for it. 

whatever challenges i encountered writing this fic had nothing to do with writing it. it was as smooth to write as it was an absolute pain to edit, because the three povs are so vastly different from each other, and with no outline to mentally check each time i add a new scene, i was reliant on going back and forth again and again to make sure the worldbuilding is cohesive and the plot is coherent. at some point i couldn’t look at it anymore, and it might even be a testament to how much i appreciate the fic that i still can’t look at it now yet cannot deny how fond i am of the final result. 

with sci-fi in particular, it really is a case of faking it till you make it, and whatever lies don’t feed into each other, you can always revisit and adjust later. that’s the common sense magic of fiction, i suppose. there’s a degree of patience i held onto writing hairpin turns that i wouldn’t have had with any other previous work, and i think it benefited me more to have all three chapters written in varying increments, out of my usual linear order, than publishing it chapter by chapter. i had all the room to experiment — what does the world look like in 2070? is 2070 even the right year to set this in? is there anything big happening around that time period? how does the lingo change in the time between present and this potential future? when i run into things that feel too out of my depth to write, like isagi’s pov for instance, do i actually have a justification for saying no other than how it will be easier than trying? are there benefits to giving bachira the final chapter that i’m being biased against because i think it would be a challenge? and between all of these choices, how do i adapt existing blue lock canon, from their playstyles to the favourites listed in the egoist bible, to worldbuilding in other forms of media that i’ve always wanted to try a different approach to? 

i used to think it was unnecessary and superfluous to go into writing something while getting bogged down by stray facts about characters, in both fic and original projects, but at the same time, it’s truly the tiny details that will humanize more than knowing a character’s birthday or what traumatic events lie in their backstory. tiny details that breed more tiny details, until it’s about the fact that bachira and isagi are childhood friends in this au yet when we meet bachira again he’s calling isagi by last name, or how rin understandably questions the validity of his own humanness because we can only assume sae had recreated him in grief or defiance against mortality or whatever other emotion that we’ll never know for sure because we only ever see sae in this fic through rin, and that matters a lot more than if i gave sae a pov — and yet rin manages to love through the small things, in how the warehouse is in an eternal sunset waiting for bachira to return to him and isagi. it’s about how first love, late spring was about learning how to love someone else the way they need you to when you weren’t loved the way you needed to be, but hairpin turns is about how spending your whole life never questioning if you were loved can rob you of the facilities to put a name and shape to what you feel for someone who’s always been in your life. the things you don’t take for granted, necessarily, but you do love for granted by not calling it love.

hairpin turns is about the pieces obscured from view and all the more present because of it. it’s about lost memories, the phantom outline of a person like a haunting. it’s about how sae never once appears in a direct scene yet he looms over rin’s existence. it’s about how rin’s chapter represents the past, isagi’s the present and bachira’s the future, but time matters little in the end — how could it weigh any more, in a story about memory? it’s about the uneasy momentary peace that’s the only scene we can count on as a happy ending. it’s about the lengths you’ll go to get the chance to be ordinary about your love, even if all else about it is unconventional. 

and yet above all, what i like best about this fic is that it works towards questions that feel like being given answers. some of my other fics try to provide answers to its characters and the readers they resonate with, to give them a way to be well-equipped to move forward, while a few other fics settle on non-answers because uncertainty is the only ending there is. but hairpin turns moves outward only to ask more questions, questions that are the answers and the thesis, yet in a way that isn’t strictly open-ended. and i have no fucking clue how i managed it, but this feels like the target i’ve been itching to catch sight of this entire time. this is the kind of story and process i would like to aspire to this year, and even though it had taken me 80k to glean what i needed from it, i’m glad i stayed with this fic as a warm-up. 

anyway. this got a bit away from me, and who knows, maybe this level of pretentiousness is only because i’m still riding the high of affection for my most recent brainchild to make it to college — but i’m not totally blind to the flaws in hairpin turns. the execution of the ending itself is clunky, not because it doesn’t resolve anything but because it does, and by then, the post-rescue section has gone on for long enough that even an ending feels like an epilogue. the story overall lacks complete confidence in what it is, with some parts shadowed by a slight hovering hesitation and others weighed down by a heavy hand showing too much kindness to my non-confidence. it’s never too heavy-handed, and definitely not so much that i’ll send it to the bin, but enough that if i want something to pick apart, there are stray choices hiding in places that i’d circle as an editor for feeling too sentimental, or the tone too dissonant with the pacing, or, ironically, not explored enough. in the genre i’m used to writing, the adrenaline rush is in finding the right balance within a new choreography for a dance style i know well, but in my first real foray into speculative fiction, i think i was just trying to find my footing the whole time. i’m still surprised i made it to the other end of the tightrope, honestly. i didn’t expect to applaud myself for the bare minimum, and i still don’t. 

but all of this is a lesson for me, too. what i do know is that it’s interesting to tell a story about what’s missing, about the unsaid and the unseen, and if that’s what it will take for me to rediscover excitement in what i write so that i don’t have to sink back into the ennui of these last couple of months, then that’s a pretty darn fun goal to spend the rest of the year unpacking. 

[uselessdancedata]

I don't think being critiqued by someone whose job it is and who you are paying to do so, and being critiqued by random people on the internet, are quite the same thing

well sure, but I just meant that they'll have thicker skin because of their experiences in class.

and let's be real, you pay a teacher for their classes and expert critiques. you don't pay a teacher for irrelevant and cruel remarks like "I can see your lunch" etc which are alarmingly common in ballet. and with all the grotesque stories from sophia lucia about how much the mba staff constantly tried to fat-shame her and keep her weight down, I really have no faith that they're making exclusively kind, critical, ballet-related remarks in there.

i'm not saying that we should have free roam to bash them relentlessly on the internet, but personally I would rather hear from a stranger on the internet that they think my variation doesn't suit me, than for my teacher to yell at me and call me fat after searching through the rubbish bins to find my food wrappers (exact anecdote from sophia lucia). feel like one is significantly harsher than the other

[gtunesmiff]

How Writing Is Like Playing the Violin

Gabriela Pereira || DIYMFA

I have played the violin since I was four years old, and my son and daughter play piano and violin respectively. They both go to a Suzuki music school—the same school I attended from ages 4-18. In fact, my daughter’s violin teacher was my orchestra conductor and chamber music coach when I was a teen.

All of this means that I have a tendency to view the world through a Suzuki lens, an outlook that centers on incremental practice over progress made by leaps and bounds. This perspective is also especially useful when it comes to writing.

We all know full well that no one can write a book in a day. It takes time and continuous persistence. There’s no glamorous solution.

Rather, we just have to show up at the page on a regular basis and clock in the hours. It’s that simple.

And yet, there are a lot of sources out there that glamorize the “overnight success” approach to writing. This attitude is best summed up by an episode that happened in my traditional MFA program. One time in workshop, a writer whose story was on deck for critique said to the class: “I wanted to apologize in advance for any typos. I just threw this piece together on my phone, while standing in line at a movie theater last weekend.”

I’ll be honest, the possibility of typos was not the thing that concerned me about this writer’s statement. What bothered me most was the attitude, as though this writer was bragging about how little time they had spent on their submission. It was as if their goal wasn’t to write something good, but rather to write something with as little effort as possible.

This kind of attitude is dangerous because it lulls us into believing that writing should be “easy,” and if it’s not, then there must be something wrong with us. Let me make one thing very clear: the problem is not with us.

Now, don’t confuse writing fast with writing easily. Personally, I happen to be a naturally fast writer. Once I get an idea of what I want to say, it tends to pour out of me fairly quickly. Similar to other writers, I know many individuals who are like this with their fiction and can crank out multiple books a year at a furious pace.

Build speed and stamina through practice.

The speed at which we write has nothing to do with the ease with which we write. Just because I tend to write fast doesn’t mean that the process is “easy” for me. People who see me crank out words so quickly might think that all writing should be a snap.

What they don’t see are the years of practice that got me to the point where I write at this pace, the countless hours before I put pen to page, or when the ideas needed to incubate and take shape in my mind.

Speed and ease are two very different things. The speed at which we write and the quality of the words we produce, these things come with practice. Ease, on the other hand, is a fickle beast. Some days it might feel like words just flow out of you, while on other days, each syllable can be a slog.

This is where persistent, incremental practice can be a game changer. We have to train ourselves to produce words—whether we “feel like it” or not. We have to practice showing up to the page, regardless of whether the writing comes easily.

This reminds me of something I learned practicing the violin with my daughter. I’m not going to lie, the past five years of violin have been brutal. Lady Bug is a strong-willed girl and when she decides she’s not going to practice, no amount of cajoling, begging, arguing, or even threatening will get her to do it. If she weren’t so darn talented, we probably would have let her quit ages ago, but when she picks up the instrument, it’s like it was made for her.

The trick, of course, is getting her to pick up the instrument in the first place.

In the beginning, when she would blatantly refuse to practice, the teacher suggested a strategy. “Just have her open the box. Don’t make her pick up the violin or the bow. Just open the box and leave it there on the floor.” The idea was not to attach any expectations to the practice, but to get her used to the idea of opening the box. Eventually, curiosity would win out and she would pick up the violin and try to practice. (I wish I could say this strategy worked every time. It didn’t. But it worked enough that we kept at it.)

Normalize the practice.

We can use a similar strategy with our writing, especially when the writing feels like a challenge. Boot up the computer or pull out the notebook and pen, then just sit and wait. Don’t attach any expectations as to whether it will be a productive writing day or not.

Just show up and see what happens.

When we practice showing up, we lower the barrier to entry. We normalize the process and the practice. For example, at this stage, my kids practice their instruments because it’s just something we do in our family. Everyone plays an instrument.

Everyone practices. It’s our version of normal. As writers, we need to do the same thing: we need to normalize the practice of writing, and make it “just something we do” rather than turning it into a big deal.

Right now, many writers are gearing up for National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo), a challenge where you try to write 50,000 words of a novel in the month of November. What I love about this challenge is that it forces you to show up and write, whether you feel like it or not. With such a tight timeline, there’s no room for dawdling or taking the day off. You have to pour those words onto the page one way or another. For many writers, this challenge is the spark that lights the fire under their backsides and gets them to write that book once and for all.

My one small concern with challenges like this is that there is no room for granting ourselves grace and showing up without expectation. Yes, you have to show up with these challenges, but you also have to produce something and sometimes that’s not in the cards. Just like some days you open the box and don’t pick up the violin, sometimes the writing is just plain hard and no matter what you try, nothing comes out. This is why I myself have never done this challenge in earnest. The few times I tried, I buckled under the pressure to produce and gave up within a few days.

If you are diving into the challenge, I tip my hat to you. While I myself have never gotten past the first few days, I have tremendous admiration for folks who are able to get to the finish line. It is an impressive feat, to be sure.

If you aren’t doing the challenge, I want to propose a low-impact alternative. For the month of November, practice opening the box. Show up at the computer and give yourself ten minutes. If no words come, then consider your time clocked in and go about the rest of your day. Chances are, though, after a few days of showing up, the words will eventually start to flow.

Remember, practice is not about rote repetition.

When I think of practice, I think of a meditation practice or a yoga practice, where 90% of the work is showing up and being present. Let’s make this November the month where we show up for ourselves and for our writing.

[did-you-fall-for-a-shooting-star]

ok so this ask is part invitation to ramble/infodump about chemistry stuff and part ask abt why u chose/enjoyed chemistry as ur major (pls idk what to do with my life lol. i like chemistry but idk if its enough to do it like as a career yknow?)

HELLO ANON YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU HAVE JUST ASKED FOR

Okay. For starters I actually didn’t go into college with the intent of being a chemist. My original major was secondary education with a focus in chemistry. Aka I wanted to teach high school chem. And that was because of my high school chem teacher, he was amazing and inspired me. I felt like I learned so much in his classes and I wanted to be like him and inspire others

Obviously thats not the route that ended up happening

Throughout my first few years, I got really involved in the chemistry clubs on my campus (ACS, GSE, etc). There was a lot of community in the chemistry department and thats where I made a lot of my friends too. I had people to study with and we helped each other, there wasnt a lot of competition. Once we got to o chem we were all just trying to survive lol.

Meanwhile, in the education department, over the years I grew more and more critical of it. It felt very cold and inhospitable. I barely knew my classmates. It felt more like a job in that it just kinda wore me down. And dont get me wrong! I LOVED my kids. I loved the actual teaching part. It was amazing. I made it all the way to student teaching because of my love for those kids. BUT. After covid hit. The education world got weird. It got too political. Its not about the kids anymore, its about doing whatever administration says. And I just couldnt take it.

A month before I would have graduated, I switched my major. Admittedly, it had been something I was thinking about since my junior year. I had taken analytical and environmental chemistry the same semester and really felt like I found my niche. (Please note here: there is no chemist who is good at all types of chemistry).

I ended up taking a 5th year to finish out a chemistry degree and get a math minor as well. I was really nervous about that decision, but that last year made me feel so much more sure of myself. I took a third analytical class, quantum mechanics, and inorganic chemistry (among other things like biochem). I learned I was *really* good at those things (unlike biochem Im lucky I passed that one). And now I have a job. Doing some instrumental work and data analysis

So I guess my decision to go into chem in the first place is just because the teacher who inspired me happened to be teaching me chemistry (though I was always a fan of science at heart)

As far as liking it enough to make it a career… well… I’ve discovered that I dont think I’m personally going to like anything for 40 hours a week for the rest of my life. And thats probably because Im out of an academic environment now, but yeah. My goal is to be able to have a chemistry job part time. Because full time just kinda makes me dread it. And Im lucky to have things in the works that might let that come to fruition in the next few years, butttttttt. Thats more of a critique on society as a whole than specifically chemistry

[mareenavee]

Hi first time sending in an ask but I always love reading your replies to others! I wanted to ask, How did you get involved with Skywind? It’s such an amazing project!

Hello! Good to hear from you (:

I agree! Skywind is a ton of fun, and a huge labor of love. I've learned a lot from the time I've been on the project, which in the grand scheme of things, hasn't been that long. The people I've worked with and written with have been stellar and supportive, and I'm so lucky to have stumbled into this opportunity!

How did I get involved specifically? Well. I was taking a Javascript class and one of the co-teachers suggested we look for volunteer opportunities to skill-build. I did look through to see what I could find, and saw Skywind. I applied both with some web dev basics (super basic, so that didn't fly lol I still need more practice) and with my writing, because...why not? I love writing. It was before I started my fanfic, and most of what I had on hand for samples were flash fiction and things I'd written for Dungeons & Dragons games.

It took a bit, but eventually a lead contacted me and told me she really enjoyed my written work and had me complete a few tests. One of which was a critique and a discussion of an example quest. Another was to create an example NPC (which was probably my favorite lol) and another was to write example item descriptions. I managed to pass! I was pulled onto the team to write more item descriptions and did for a couple weekends.

Then there was an opportunity to review an old quest and make some changes. I volunteered to edit that and help with proofreading. It kind of morphed into this whole new quest with the help of my amazing cowriters and leads on this particular quest team. Now I'm writing dialogue for a famous NPC and creating written material for enemy journals and thinking through sequence breaks... and most of all learning what it takes to put a quest together with a team for a video game. I'm over the moon, really. Writing is such a lonely sport most of the time, but in games writing, it's all collaborative, all the time.

I know this is just the surface of what I could say about such a project. I'm thrilled to be a part of it, thrilled to have met some wonderful, talented people I hope to stay in contact with moving forward, and absolutely cannot wait until you all get to see how much love has gone into this mod.

Honestly? If you think you might be able to help us out, there's plenty to do. All of it is volunteer based, and the more hands we have with the skills that we need, the better we can be. So if you're curious, here's the page where you can check out how to apply.

[beefmastersblog]

Assassination Classroom

Assassination classroom is one of my favorite anime series of all time. I think it is an incredibly entertaining piece, with a lot of powerful themes and messages. It follows the story of an alien teacher, Koro-sensei, plans on eventually destroying the world, but spends his time teaching a class of misfits at Kunugigaoka Junior High School. The series follows the students as they learn how to grow and mature, all while trying to find a way to assassinate Koro-sensei. The series is definitely a must watch for any of you that maybe have not seen the entire thing, it is honestly very good.

It was a little bit weird that we only watched the first two episodes and then two near the end, so I will only be discussing the themes displayed in those few episodes, not any other ones that occur throughout the piece (since I would feel bad spoiling such a fun show). But the main theme in this anime is that of discrimination and educational inequity. Class E is looked down upon and are viewed as misfits that are not smart enough to do well in school and don't care enough to get there. They are consistently the lowest in scores, have teachers that don't care about their education, and transferring to their class is used as a "punishment" for other students that get below average test scores. However, because they aren't given any opportunities to actually learn and grow, those who end up in Class E are often stuck there.

I thought this reminded me a lot of what we often see in current school systems. I know that when I was in elementary and middle school, our classes were split up by test scores as well (I know public schools had a similar system of gifted vs not). But my school, specifically 8th grade, was split up into 8-1, 8-2, and 8-3, with 8-1 being the kids with the lowest scores who were deemed not academically gifted, and 8-3 being the students doing high school level coursework. And the difference in the treatment of the children in the classes was drastic. I remember, whenever people got into trouble with the administration of the school, 8-3's opinion and what the students in that class said actually happened was what the teachers believed. Even if what they were saying was completely untrue, 8-1 was deemed untrustworthy because they often did not pay attention in class and fooled around a lot. And I know that idea of teachers and staff preferencing the "smarter" students that sit there and studiously do all of their work is still a very common issue. As someone who also has experience with education, I have seen that before as well. Although I worked in a preschool, not a high school, the students that typically acted out or seemed to struggle a bit more with concepts often frustrated the teachers, and I know in some education systems, those students get overlooked and end up falling behind. But dispersing students into classes based on "ability" ends up lumping them into a box that they will be stuck in for (very likely) their entire schooling career. I know there have been multiple studies proving that, and the fact that the way your teachers or administrator at your school view you and what group they lump you in, often defines how you see yourself and affects your later academic achievement. And this is something that is perfectly demonstrated in this piece.

However, this piece also serves as a critique to that idea of people being worthless or born with a set ability. We see that by the end of the series, Korosnsei has given them time, meaningful lessons, and showed them that he truly cared about them. He was very likely the first teacher to do that. But by doing that, Class E was not only able to catch up to the other students, but their test scores actually exceeded that of the students in the top class, proving that with the right guidance and a good teacher, you can do anything, no matter where you come from. I thought this was a very beautiful theme, and a very unique one that I don't see portrayed in a lot of anime specifically, so it was very interesting to see it in Assassination Classroom.

Overall, I love this show and I think it is a great example of how discrimination in the academic world affects people and how it can be overcome. I am glad that we got to watch this as our final anime of the semester and I definitely plan on rewatching the entire thing once I am doing my summer internship. It was nice meeting all of you and seeing your thoughts on different pieces. Goodbye <3