#and yes i'm upset about the change too i absolutely adored the previous ones

[belyyv0lk]

☕ stucky (if you're still doing these. that last one got me really curious what you think of it)

I'm always up for questions ❤️❤️ be ready for a NOVEL. But don't worry I'm not like hating on it or anything.

Stucky is definitely not my favorite. It's bothered me from the moment it existed, but I would never be like "ew you like Stucky? You're gross" to someone because that's mean?? And pointless?? I just don't seek it out and certainly won't throw a fit if it appears on my dash.

I really like Steve and Buckys friendship, that is 100%. They clearly love each other but I wouldn't go as far as shipping them together. It's a family type of love that's unconditional. Steve will do anything for Bucky and vice versa. I have a fondness for love that is familial and not turned into "they smash" because it's no less passionate and beautiful if you subtract the intimacy.

And of course, as I mentioned in my previous post, Steve's vision of Bucky is one that is completely positive. It doesn't matter what he's done or what's been done to him, it wasn't his fault (not that I'm saying it was his fault, everyone smh, calm down). In the scenes we're given, from my understanding of them, Steve doesn't acknowledge the Winter Soldier as part of Bucky, while Bucky does. The ignoring of the things he's done wrong, of his own will or not, is unhealthy and unhelpful. Damaging at best. That major difference in views makes romance seem like such an impossibility to me. It'd be a constant stressor that would very very likely go unresolved. Maybe ignored for some time but that wouldn't last. (Couples therapy babbbyyyy. A wild ass class but highly recommend). Steve is too nice for this view to change. He is stubborn and you can't say he isn't. We got like a million movies that say so lmao.

Buuut just because this difference exists doesn't mean they wouldn't get along. Obviously they will. ANNNNND. I'm going to share my unpopular opinion with you all:

Bucky would not be mad at Steve leaving for Peggy. He's known Steve his entire life, and has seen sacrifice after sacrifice made by him. I think he would support the single selfish decision that he has ever made that solely benefits him. Would he be sad? Yes. Absolutely, because now he's alone (or has to be nice to Sam). But he'd never be angry for his friends happiness. I was initially very upset by Steve's ending, but the more I thought about it, the more I understood it. Peggy, whom I love, is Steve's first love and that is made so clear in the first film. It's beautiful to me that he, after giving up his entire life, gets to be with her. Steve makes sacrifice after sacrifice for everyone else, never for his own benefit. That is his entire character. The single time we see him make a selfish choice, we get angry? That's sad to me. Ofc I did it too so lmao whoooops. And don't get me wrong, it still is a little upsetting of an ending. But at the same time, I've come to terms with it. I get it.

In TFA I think Bucky has always looked up to Steve, even pre-serum. I have seen people say he'd be upset about not being needed post-serum and I can see that? But also I think it's more of fear of seeing his friend now putting himself in danger constantly. My understanding and personal hc is that Bucky did not enlist. Didn't want to, but was drafted nonetheless. Meanwhile Steve wanted to fight. Their views are very different, and you can see it just by looking at that. Bucky sees Steve as braver than himself, and potentially a better person. Bucky hates fighting, Steve can't sit still when someone is being hurt. These differences might not seem super significant, and in a friendship, they aren't. But in a romantic relationship? They're deal breakers. That's how relationships like that work.

I adore Bucky and Steve as family. I love their differences because it makes them both very unique and demonstrates love existing between two people with very different perspectives. Just not a romantic love.

[one-sad-human]

•Worth It• Duff Mckagan

Pairing: Velvet Revolver era! Duff Mckagan x Younger! Reader

Requested? Nope!

Theme: Little bit of everything/???

Warnings: Language, panic attacks, anxiety references, drug references

Word Count: 3k

A/N: Fic 2 of 2! This is the longest fic yet! Took a different approach to writing this one, hopefully it payed off. Let me know if you guys liked it or if I wasted my time with this one lol.

     You had met Duff in a coffee shop in LA. It was crowded and you were lucky enough to snag a chair before the lunch rush. Duff wasn't, and asked you if he could sit at your table.

     You grew up with Guns n Roses, bought his solo album the day it came out when you were just 15, and now listened to Velvet Revolver faithfully. To see your idol, your celebrity crush stand right in front of you holding a cup of coffee and a scone sent you for a loop.

     "Of course," you had said, starry eyed. You were only hoping he was as kind as the interviews made him out to be. Maybe have a conversation with you and be polite for a while before leaving and never seeing each you again. That would be good enough.

     It didn't end with a coffee, it had just begun. He asked for your number, and you stared at him for a moment thinking you had imagined it. That was until he tilted his head a little and looked at you with a nervous expression. He backtracked and you immediately stopped him.

     "No! I mean— yes! Yes, you can absolutely have my number." You scrambled for a pen and paper and ended up scratching your number on a receipt from the record store. You shook so hard you could barely get the numbers down.

     Out of all the record store receipts you've stuffed into your bag, the one you gave Duff Mckagan had to be the one for when you bought Velvet Revolver's 'Contraband.' He didn't say anything, just smiled and promised to call.

     You honestly didn't think he would've. You played it off as just him trying to be nice. It didn't stop you from answering every call you got for the next three days, however, even if you recognized the number as the tax collector you'd normally never answer.

     But then he called.

     "I tried calling sooner, but I kept calling the wrong number. You don't have the most eligible handwriting," he had told you. You laughed but really, you were in shock.

     You set up a date at the fancy restaurant downtown that always intimidated you. You didn't say anything though, even though you knew you wouldn't want any of the overpriced food and you'd end up eating something you couldn't pronounce and was two portions too small. Maybe even hit up a fast food joint afterwards.

     When the day finally came, you couldn't even figure out what to wear. You couldn't tell if you looked underdressed or like you were trying too hard. Did the clothes even fit the right way? What would Duff think? Would he even care?

     All questions were answered when you left your house. Duff was leaning against his slick car parked in your driveway, a button up that was barely buttoned and dress pants with boots. He stared at you and you wanted a hole in the ground to shallow you up until he smiles.

     "You look gorgeous," he said. You blushed and grinned, thanking him before saying that he looked great too. He drove you to the restaurant and on the way, you talked about music.

     You shared some of your favorites, he adored how well rounded you were. You liked pretty much everything from punk rock to the mellowest of mellow. Duff mentioned some of his favorites, some you made sure to remember the names of so you can check them out.

     When the ride was over and you finally got to the restaurant, your previous fears came back. Duff reassured you looked better than 90% of the people there and you knew it wasn't true but it made you feel better anyway.

     Your eyes widened to the size of saucers when you saw the prices of the food. You knew it'd be pricey but you thought there'd be more options that stayed within two digit numbers.

     Duff saw your panicked expression and said not to worry, he'd pay. It didn't settle your nerves enough and when the waiter came, you ordered the cheapest and simplest thing you could find.

     "Chicken noodle soup?" He teased. You shyly looked down and shrugged. "This isn't your scene, is it?"

     "Not exactly, no."

     "Want me to be completely honest with you?" You nodded. "It's not mine either."

     That's all it took for you and Duff to scramble sheepishly out of the restaurant. You both shared a laugh in the car and went to Burger King. It was much more your speed and, as you'd find out that night, Duff's too. You suppose all the money he's had since such a young age didn't completely change his ways. He was like a kid trapped in a 40 year old man's body.

     You'd thought at first the age gap would feel strange, after all, you were 15 years younger than him. But after that night, it was barely noticeable. Funny looks from strangers every once in a while was nothing.

     By the second date, Duff was already aware fancy spots weren't your forte. He told you it was a surprise and to wear something cozy, as LA nights got chilly.

     He packed a picnic basket and drove you out to the most beautiful flower field you had ever seen at sunset. It was secluded and high up, giving a perfect view of the city skyline. After gawking and taking in the sights for a few moments, you regained your ability to speak.

     "It's gorgeous. Pretty far from the city, did you take me here to kill me?" You joked. He laughed and rolled his eyes. His lighthearted laugh sent sparks straight to your heart, and you decided that it was your favorite sound.

     You unfolded the blanket Duff brought and you both sat down. You ate the sandwiches and sliced fruit Duff packed and talked. You talked about everything, from your family to fears and insecurities.

You told him how you suffer from nightmares. Flashbacks from your broken childhood coming back to bite you in your sleep. Duff shared how he's suffered from panic attacks since he was a teenager. You felt you knew each other for years.

Neither of you felt weird for sharing and neither made the other insecure. You were completely open and honest with each other. It was strange, you've never connected to quickly and effortlessly with someone before. Sure, you've had men in your life, but never had you clicked with someone so fast, never had you fit with someone so perfectly.

Hours passed and it felt like minutes. Only did you realize how late and how exhausted you were when you saw most of the city buildings light have gone off for the night. The city that didn't sleep was dark.

"I should get you home," Duff said to you.

"Will you stay the night?" You felt a little silly for asking. Were things going too fast? Would he even want to stay over?

He agreed, and that's how your first night together went. You both stayed up even later and had more lighthearted conversations, unlike the ones that partook at the field. Like how one of Duff's first jobs was at a bakery and could bake a mean cake and how you can't cook to save your life.

You ended up waking up without remembering falling asleep. You're head was placed comfortably on Duff's lap while his head was lolled back against the couch cushion. He looked so serene and peaceful you couldn't help but smile at the sight.

You made toast and somewhat successfully cooked some eggs and bacon. It might have been the first breakfast in years that didn't end with the smoke alarm going off.

Duff eventually wandered into the kitchen and you both ate. By the time he left, another date was already set up. He was like a drug an you were already hooked.

Months later and the addiction still wasn't kicked. You didn't want to, and Duff didn't seem to want you to quit either. You both soaked each other up like the sun on a warm day.

You had almost weekly dates and you stayed over each other's houses almost every other day. Duff did have his kids some days, though, so some days dates were cut short or Grace and Mae slept over his house and you wouldn't see each other.

You were always understanding, his kids came first and you'd never blame or get upset about it. It's something Duff admires about you, your never ending understanding and empathy for him.

One of those days where Duff stayed over at your house started normal. He cooked dinner and you washed the dishes, and then you put on an old Ramones concert you had on DVD.

You were laying on his chest, his fingers running through your hair when all of a sudden, he tensed up. He quickly stood and excused himself to the bathroom. You frowned but before you could think much of it, you heard a loud bang and something clatter to the ground.

You jumped up and rushed to the bathroom. You swung open the door because you were perfectly aware the lock hasn't worked since you moved in.

Duff was sitting on the floor, a pill bottle laying on its side not far from him. You quickly spot the name of the medication and identified it as your anti-anxiety pills. You shoved them aside and sat next to Duff.

He was sweating bullets and his skin felt cold and clammy, his breaths were labored and heartbeat was loud and pounding erratically. You coax him gently to take deep breaths, holding onto his hand tightly and talking quietly.

"I'm sorry, they come on randomly sometimes," he apologized after he'd called down, but you quickly shushed him. You reminded him of just how many nightmares he'd comforted you for and he stops feeling so bad about it.

     It was always a true partnership with Duff. Never had you felt you gave or took too much, it was always equal. Always a two way street, with everything.

That wasn't the last panic attack you had to help him come down from. Later down the line you've gotten better at calming him down and learning his triggers, even though sometimes they really do come on suddenly without reason.

A year into the relationship was when you met Grace and Mae. They were young and didn't completely understand why their parents weren't together anymore, so it took them a while to warm up to you. Luckily, they eventually came around.

Duff and Susan met up regularly to discuss their kids and co-parent properly. And while you had all the reason to be jealous of your boyfriend with his ex wife, you never did. You had complete confidence in him, he was honest and loyal and you doubted he'd ever hurt you purposely.

That's why it destroyed you when he left you. Tears were shed from both parties as he gave his reasons for breaking up with you. His insecurities he tried his best to bury had come to light and nothing could change his mind.

You thought you were completely honest with each other, but you suppose his doubt in his relationship with you was the one thing he kept secret. He had somehow convinced himself you'd be better without him, between the constant touring and the baggage that came with him and his kids, he finally buckled under the weight and stress.

You had tried to convince him that he was worth it, but if Duff is one thing it's stubborn. The best relationship you'd ever have and the best year of your life went down the drain within the matter of one conversation.

You were down in the dumps for days. You barely left your bed and didn't ever leave your house. You were in a depression and couldn't get out. A few of your friends eventually found out what had happened and broke into your house and shoved you into the shower before taking you to your favorite Chinese restaurant.

You felt like a disaster. Your hair was ratted despite the shower and you refused to put real clothes on, instead wearing sweatpants and a shirt Duff had left behind. You were a mess.

The hole in the wall restaurant was never busy but always had the best food. You were almost happy your friends dragged you out of your home until you saw Duff sitting at a table, eating egg rolls and lo mein.

You've came here together all the time. The high sodium in the food always made him sick to his stomach and you'd always end up giving him nausea remedies and tea. He never changed his order though.

You locked eyes with him for a while. Dark bags were under his eyes and he looked more pale than usual. He looked as terrible as you felt. You weren't sure if you were spitefully glad he felt awful or if the despair on his face just made your heart break further.

When you couldn't take his intense jade stare anymore, you looked up at the menu. The next time you looked back he was gone, you weren't sure if he was really there at all or if you were finally losing your mind for good.

     Another week crawled by. You got better enough to continue working. You had to pick up extra time for calling out for a few days after the breakup. You wouldn't say things were going well, but you weren't crying in bed every day all day anymore.

     You had constant dreams about him. Some were nice, ones where he didn't leave and you were together, holding each other tightly. Most were nightmares, flashbacks of when he left. You didn't have him to comfort you anymore when you woke up soaked in sweat and tears, and that might've been the worst.

     Another week went by, and you were starting to get back into the swing of things. You still thought about him, even silly little things reminded you of him. Like when you would catch a sniff of freshly baked sweets like he'd bake you or certain songs playing on the radio. It also didn't help that you ran into people wearing Guns n Roses shirts on the daily.

     You also refused to get rid of anything he'd left behind. Tee shirts, guitar picks he left from when he'd play for you, or CDs from bands he introduced you to. Reminders of what you lost were scattered around your home but you couldn't bring yourself to do anything about it.

     Suddenly, it's been a month. You weren't over him, but you had a feeling you'd never be completely. He was something special, you can't forget things as special as your relationship with Duff.

     His items still weren't thrown out or returned, instead all packed in a box sitting in your closet. But you'd be lying if you said you would never reach into the box to grab a shirt to sleep in or a CD to listen to when you needed a reminder of the good times. You were making progress though.

     You decided to leave your house one evening. You were feeling especially terrible and wanted to take a walk to clear your head. You went to the coffee shop you had first met Duff in. Maybe it was a mistake to go and get a flood of memories but you couldn't stop yourself.

     You sat in a seat near the window and people watched, taking occasional sips of your drink. It was quiet except from the talk of the workers and the hum of the overhead speakers.

     There was a sudden squeak of a chair of hardwood floors and it broke you out of your daze. You snapped your gaze up to meet the very familiar green eyes you've been trying to forget.

     "Can we talk?" He asked, and you couldn't say 'no.' Duff sat across from you and started off by apologizing.

     He said he wanted to talk to you sooner, but was too afraid you wouldn't want anything to do with him. You rolled your eyes at that, if only he knew just how much you missed him.

     He then started from the beginning and explained why he made the decision to leave you. As it turns out, it was mostly because of stress. His bandmate Scott was having problems with drugs and the flashbacks from his GnR days frightened him. He was worried he would end up relapsing and he didn't want to drag you down with him.

     Combine that with all the troubles that came with dating a single father, and he couldn't take it anymore. He felt too guilty.

     It all seemed like ridiculous reasons to you. Even if he had made the mistake of falling off the wagon, you still would've stuck with him. And you didn't mind his kids at all, after nearly a year of knowing them and you were very close to them.

     "I love you, Duff. I wouldn't have left you over that, I'd help you through anything. And I love Grace and Mae, too," you told him.

     "I know, but I didn't want you to have to deal with all that baggage." You frowned at that. You reached your hand across the table and grasped his, squeezing it tenderly.

     "You're worth it."

     After that day, you and Duff started seeing each other again. It wasn't the same as before, but maybe even better.

     You were more transparent with each other. If one had a worry or problem, you'd go to the other. You talked everything through with him and he did the same. Even if it seemed insignificant, talking everything through never failed to make it better.

    You were happier and healthier than ever before. Sure, there were a roadblock or two, but they only made the relationship even stronger, and you wouldn't have changed a thing about it.

[mistwraiths]

3.5 stars

No one is more disappointed than me that this book ranked pretty low. The first two books in A Good Girl's Guide To Murder were 5 stars for me and I absolutely adored the characters. So, yeah, I'm super shocked.

THIS WILL INCLUDE MAJOR SPOILERS, if you want the short version: I loved the first half with Pip struggling with her PTSD, but after a major plot twist this book changes drastically in its direction and goes down a path that has me wondering about some characters sudden moral changes. DO NOT READ PAST THIS POINT IF YOU DO NOT WANT MAJOR SPOILERS!!!!

The first part of the book I really loved, although I had a difficult time reading it. Pip struggling with PTSD really had me remembering the really dark times I struggled with my own PTSD. It was hard to read because it felt incredibly familiar and similar to my own. But it was written so well and felt realistic.

I could understand her frustration and rage too when it came to Max Hastings. He absolutely deserved to be found guilty on rape charges. I could understand her struggle with Charlie Green and Stanley, and the aftermath of it all. The whole first almost 200 pages of it all is so good. And it deviates from the usual podcast to Pip which is fine.

The DT killer getting her was terrifying and exciting, I really thought she was going to go missing and we'd switch to Ravi or someone to help find her. Instead, there's a HUGE twist. A twist I never expected and I didn't think the book would go there. Pip kills the DT killer, rightfully so he totally deserved it and I don't care if it wasn't technically self-defense I don't think anyone would have blamed her. However, then the book shifts. It's no longer Pip finding the truth in her true crime podcast. It's Pip decides that she can't trust the justice system and decides to frame someone else for the DT killer's murder. Not just anyone but Max.

Am I sorry for Max? No. Does Max deserve to be punished for his hit and run AND his raping several women? 1000% yes. One of the hardest things for me was that Pip decides this is what she must do to get justice, which feels like a big leap from her previous bit of morals and beliefs. I support her I WILL TAKE HIM DOWN on Max but to actively plot to get away with murder is another. That's not the hardest thing though. It's her getting literally every one of her friends to join her, which really felt hardest to believe.

I understand her distrust in the justice system. But I just really felt like her not calling the police with all that she knows and had, and the evidence on her and the scene would have been enough. It just felt almost like a departure from the Pip and Ravi I really loved in the first two books.

And then Pip distances herself from literally everyone to protect them, and also it feels a little like to punish herself too. It just really disappointed me.

I thought maybe she'd disappear and it would be up to Ravi and her friends to find her. Or if she did get out, she'd stay hidden to make the DT killer sweat and make mistakes. I just didn't forsee this.

I can appreciate how full circle the series did get. I also appreciated that Pip completely forgot about poor Billy in all this and that's acknowledged. This book really leaves you with the question of: was Pip's decision good and that's completely up to you. It gives you good gray morality. I don't completely agree but I'm not upset by what she did and I understand it and I'm glad to see him suffer. But the two halves feel very different from each other, and I found the latter half to be less enjoyable than the first half.

Overall? This wasn't a bad book by any means. I just didn't enjoy it like I did the others. It definitely hurts the series in my mind because I kind of just wish I didn't read this one.

[itsclydebitches]

I'm not sure the best way to ask this but I'll try, sorry if I send a bunch of anons. I got into a discussion about what constitutes "bad writing" and as a writer who views writing as art, I personally have a hard time actually saying any writing is bad (even when it is literally hard or cringe to read lol). I personally tend to read stories and if there's stuff that doesn't make sense or lacks continuity, I tend to naturally change the story to make sense/be "better" (for myself). (Cont)

It’s a crazy complicated subject, isn’t it? I too view writing (any craft, really) as art. Which, for me, doesn’t mean that writing can’t be bad, but rather I acknowledge that “bad” is a subjective label and there’s no art in the world that’s “bad” to every single person. Which is why censorship can’t exist. The art that one group deems “bad” in an ethical manner can’t have the power to destroy it when another group needs and thrives on that art. (And I’ve spoken before about that careful balance between allowing art to exist/allowing for its creation but making your morals known regarding individual pieces. e.g. “I’m not going to blindly fight against everyone who creates kink art but if you created something that, say, fetishizes a group in an offensive and potentially dangerous way, people have the right to speak up about that.”) 

But here we’re not talking about “bad” moral writing, but rather “bad” entertainment writing. Even though, in reality, the two are rarely separate issues. But let’s assume they are for a moment. Yes, I wholeheartedly agree that from one perspective “bad” writing simply does not exist. The cringeiest YA novel is going to be some teen’s favorite book. The song that sounds like nonsense noise to you may be another’s anthem. Someone fell in love with that fic, or that drawing, or the lopsided sweater you knit. So right in those examples we can see how “good” art often depends on: 

Your relationships (a “bad” drawing by a child is going to mean something to their mother) 

Your age (people adore books as teens that they later realize were “bad,” but it wasn’t “bad” according to who you were at the time) 

Previous skill level (if you just started knitting and you could barely manage a scarf last year, that sweater is “good” now, comparatively) 

Experience (someone with very little knowledge of animation might be blown away by a show that’s sneered at by someone who consumes the medium regularly) 

What you as an individual prioritize (when people talk about a “good” story one might be referencing the plot, the other might be referencing the world building, the third relatable characters, and everyone has a different list of requirements for what makes a “good” tale) 

Something unidentifiable based on our tastes that, notably, are always changing

So obviously art is subjective. However, when we’re talking about art in the media that’s meant to be consumed by the masses, we need to introduce two crucial elements: 

This is art that (usually) someone paid for, in one manner or another. Producing this art was someone’s job. Thus, there are expectations attached to the experience that help people determine whether it’s “good” or “bad.” If you paid for a show that implied it would have solid continuity and then it failed to produce that, that’s now an issue between a buyer and a seller. Like going to a restaurant, paying for a burger, and getting a sandwich instead. We can argue that they’re very similar foods. We can argue that the sandwich is still a delicious food to receive. We can argue that you have to power to go home to your own kitchen and make a burger yourself if you’re that picky... but at the end of the day you ordered something (or, to be clearer regarding media, were encouraged to expect something) and then didn’t receive it. That makes people mad. Or at best, disappointed. People may naturally be inclined to do the work of the writers tasked with providing their entertainment - making things “better” as you say - but that shouldn’t be a requirement. When I pay someone to make my food it’s not a part of the unspoken contract that I will doctor the meal extensively until it resembles what I thought I was paying for. 

Though subjective, there are types of art that the majority of people tend to prefer. Consistency being a major one. Are there abstract forms of art that deliberately work to confuse or frustrate viewers and do people find that engaging? Absolutely. Do the majority of people want to work hard to follow/understand/explain the story they sat down to watch at the end of a long day? Nope. It’s the safe bet of “Yeah, some people might not care if we retcon this but more people are probably going to be upset that we can’t follow our own story rules.” That consistency spreads to everything, including things like character arcs and endings. If you look at controversial shows like How I Met Your Mother or Dexter, when people say “This was a bad ending” they rarely mean “No one could ever like this conclusion.” Rather, they mean that “The vast majority of us expected something based on what you previously produced and then you failed to provide that. This doesn’t make sense and thus we feel lied to.” 

The purpose of (most) stories isn’t to produce feelings of betrayal, anger, frustration, and disappointment in your audience. So if a story does produce those feelings via all that you mention - lost potential, lack of continuity, numerous mistakes, etc. - then it has failed to do what (most) stories seek to do. Again, not all stories are like this. Many do try to produce such feelings. But for the majority of mainstream works if your audience doesn’t experience feelings of happiness (or catharsis) and satisfaction... then the story is “bad.” In the way that a car that won’t run is “bad.” The car might still look good and maybe you can use it for something else if you put your mind to it, but it has failed to complete its purpose as a car. 

That for me makes a “bad” story. It has failed to function as that particular type of story should. When we sit down to something like RWBY we have certain expectations. They’re produced by what the show has already introduced, its genre, its tone, what RT says during panels, how much money the company has, etc. Expectations like “Characterization will remain logical and consistent” or “If you introduce this concept you’ll come back to it,” or “We’re not going to have a whole bunch of animation mistakes.” Failing to meet these expectations doesn’t produce an objectively bad story - someone out there will like it - but it does produce a “bad” story in relation to what the majority of audience remembers had hoped and expected the story would be. Every story in the world is compared against its potential and the expectations it produces along the way (even if one of the expectations is a story’s ability to creatively undermine expectations: “We thought we were going one way but then there was a twist. Crucially the twist makes sense so that’s still satisfying, even though it’s not what we thought we’d get). How well the story manages that determines whether the majority considers it “good” or not.