#if I sound melodramatic it's because fanfiction is the only thing that has made sense to me for years

[skinnypaleangryperson]

It's cool that being a passionate fanfic writer is like talking to a literal void while the actual culture of the piece of media it's based on is both destroyed, rejuvenated, crashed, disregarded, and built back up again with every single piece of analysis or media or trend or meme that people make up related to it while any fan fiction that is ever written is basically either not acknowledged or only vaguely made fun of, much less read or paid attention to

[cctinsleybaxter]

2020 in books

2020 was a year of changed reading habits; people reading more than ever or not at all, some changing their tastes and others turning to old comforts. While there weren’t any huge overhauls on my end, more free time did mean a total of 32 in a wider range of genres. In the past couple of years I found a lot of the things I read to be kind of middling and ranked them accordingly, but this year had some strong contenders in the mix. With college officially behind me I love nonfiction again, and I really need to stop being drawn in by novels with long titles that ‘sound interesting.’ A piece of advice to my future self: they will only make you angry.

The Good

The Idiot by Fyodor Dostoevsky I loved the BBC radio play when I first listened to it back in 2017, but didn’t know if I could stomach the idea of actually reading the 700-page book, especially since I already knew the plot (spoiler alert: this had no effect and I gasped multiple times despite knowing what was going to happen; Fyodor’s just that good at atmosphere.) The story follows Prince Lev Myshkin, a goodhearted but troubled man entering 1860s Petersburg high society and meeting all of the wretched people therein as he navigates life, laughs, love, unanswerable questions of faith, and human suffering. I care about it in the same way I think other people care about reality TV shows and soap operas. I’m so personally invested in the drama and feel so many different emotions directed at these clowns that it’s like being a fan of Invitation to Love (with an ending equally upsetting to that of the show ITL is from, Twin Peaks.)

Salt: A World History by Mark Kurlanksy I adored this book. The first half reads a little like a Wikipedia article, and I was worried that it was leaning too clinical and would be disaffected with colonialism and indigenous peoples, but even that oversight is corrected for as the text goes on. It’s not going to be for everybody because it really is just the world’s longest encyclopedia entry on, well, salt, but it’s written with such excitement for the topic and is so well-researched and styled for commercial nonfiction that I think it deserves any and all praise it’s gotten. We have to talk about that time Cheshire was literally sinking into the ground, and companies who were over-pumping brine water to steal each other’s brine water said ‘no it’s okay it’s supposed to that’ so were legally dismissed as suspects.

Midnight Cowboy by James Leo Herlihy Cried. 10/10. The plot of Midnight Cowboy is very classic and actually has a lot in common with The Idiot, as 20-something Joe Buck moves from the American Southwest to NYC and meets myriad challenges as a sex worker. I’ve been obsessed with the movie for a few years now and the book made me appreciate it anew; I think it’s rare for an adaptation to take the risk of being so different from its source material while still capturing its spirit. The movie doesn’t include quieter moments like the full conversation with Towny or time spent in the X-flat, nor does it attempt to touch Joe’s internal monologue or his and Rico’s extensive backstories, but these things are essential to the book and are some of the best and most affecting writing I’ve ever read. Finally! The Great American Novel!

The Only Good Indians by Stephen Graham Jones I would firmly like to say that this is probably the best horror novel ever written. The setup is very traditional in that it’s about a group of friends facing supernatural comeuppance for a past mistake, but delivery on that premise is anything but familiar. A story about personal and cultural trauma that raises questions about what we owe to each other and what it means to be Blackfeet, with a cast that’s unbelievably real and sympathetic even at their absolute worst. Creepypasta writers trying to cash in on the cultural mythos of lumped-together tribes wish they were capable of writing something a tenth as gruesome and good as this. It could very well be a movie the visuals and writing style were so arresting, and I can’t wait to read whatever Jones writes next.

Found Footage Horror Films: Fear and the Appearance of Reality by Alexandra Heller-Nicholas This is the least accessible title on the list since it’s a college textbook for people with background in film, but it was so nice to read a woman unpacking film theory with the expertise and confidence it deserves that I have to rank it among the best. I had an absolute blast reading it and am going to have to stop myself from bringing up the horror of 1960s safety films as a cocktail icebreaker.

Blood in the Water: The Attica Prison Uprising of 1971 and Its Legacy by Heather Ann Thompson

The year’s toughest read by far, but also its most rewarding. Thompson uses mountains of documents, government-buried intel, and personal interviews to explain what happened at Attica from beginning to end, and does a fantastic job of balancing hard facts and ‘unbiased journalism’ with much-needed emotion and critical analysis. It’s more important reading in the 2020s than any kind of ‘why/how to not be racist’ book club book is going to be, and the historical context it provides is as interesting as it is invaluable. The second half drags a bit in going through lengthy trial processes with some assumed baseline knowledge of legalese (which I did not have. All that criminal minds in 2015… meaningless), but aside from that editing and prose are some of the best I’ve seen in nonfiction. 

The Bad

The Woman in the Window by A.J. Finn A friend and I decided to read this together because I’m obsessed with how insane the author is and wanted to know if he can actually write.

He cannot.

The Beautiful Thing That Awaits Us All by Laird Barron Barron is an indie darling of the horror fiction scene, so I was excited to finally read one of his collections but can now attest that I hate him. If you’re going to do Lovecraft please deconstruct Lovecraft in an interesting way. I had actually written a lot about the issues I have with how he develops characters and plots, but one of the only shorthand notes I took was “he won’t stop saying ‘bole’ instead of tree trunk” and I feel like that’s the only review we need.

Bats of the Republic by Zach Dodson Look up a photo of this author because if I had bothered to glance at the jacket bio I honest-to-god wouldn’t have even tried reading this.

This Is How You Lose the Time War by Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone I went in with high expectations since this is an epistolary novella I’d seen praised on tumblr and youtube but oh my god was there a reason I was seeing it praised on tumblr and youtube. This is bad Steven Universe fanfiction. Both authors included ‘listening to the Steven Universe soundtrack throughout’ in the acknowledgements, and to add insult to injury there’s a plug from my nemesis Madeline Miller.

The 7½ Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle by Stuart Turton The premise of this one plays with so many tropes I like that I should have been more suspicious. It’s a dinner party with stock characters one would expect of Clue, and rather than our protagonist being the detective he’s a man with amnesia stuck in a 24-hour time loop. Body-hopping between guests, he must gather evidence using the skillsets of each ‘host’ until he either solves Evelyn Hardcastle’s murder or the limit of eight hosts runs out. I read a lot of not-very-good books, and it’s so, so much worse when they have potential to be fun. This is how you lose the most points, and how I abandon decorum and end up writing a list of grievances: • Our protagonist can only inhabit male hosts, which I think is a stupid writing decision not because I’m ‘woke’ but because wouldn’t it make sense for him to also be working with the maids, cooks, and women close to the murder victim? • Complaining about the limitations of hosts makes some sense (e.g- there’s a section where he thinks that it’s hard to be an old man because it’s difficult to get to the places he needs to be quickly), but one of his hosts is a rapist and one of his hosts is fat. Guess which one gets complained about more. • One of the later hosts is just straight-up a cop with cop knowledge that singlehandedly solves the case. We spend some time being like ‘wow I couldn’t have done it without the info all eight hosts helped gather’ but it was 100% the detective and he solves the murder using information he got off-screen. • The mystery itself is actually well-paced and I didn’t have a lot of issues with it (e.g, there’s a twist that I guessed only shortly before the end), which makes it all the worse that the metanarrative of this book is INSANE. No spoilers but the reveal as to why our unnamed protagonist is even in this situation is stupid. I just know they’re going to make it into a movie and I’m preemptively going to aaaaaaaaa!!!

Trust Exercise by Susan Choi The fact that this was the worst book I read all year, worse even than the bad Steven Universe fanfiction, and it won multiple awards makes my blood boil. I could rant about it for hours but just know that it’s a former theater kid’s take on perception and memory, and deals with sexual abuse in a way that’s handled both very badly and with a level of fake deepness that’s laughable. Select fake-deep quotes I copied down because at one point I said ‘oh barf’ aloud: -I’m filled with melancholy that’s almost compassion. It’s sad the same way. -[On a friendship ending] We almost never know what we know until after we know it. -Because we’re none of us alone in this world. We injure each other.

There are also bad sex scenes that I can’t quite make fun of because I think (HOPE?) they’re supposed to be a melodramatic take on how teenagers view sex, but I very much wanted to die. Flowers were alluded to. Nipples were compared to diamonds.

Honorable/Dishonorable Mentions (categorized as the same thing because, well,)

The Life and Death of Sophie Stark by Anna North This book was frustrating because the first third of it is fantastic. It’s set up to be a takedown of the manic pixie dream girl trope, jumping from person to person discussing their relationship with the titular Sophie, and indirectly revealing that she was just some girl and not the difficult and mysterious genius they all believed her to be. Then in the third act, BAM! She was that difficult and mysterious genius and she’s now indirectly brought all the people from her past together. I wanted to scream the plot beefed it so bad, but the good news is I really liked this octopus description.

It was the size of a three-year-old child, and it seemed awful to me that something could be so far from human and obviously want something as badly as it wanted to get out of the tank.

Radium Girls: The Dark Story of America’s Shining Women by Kate Moore Cool new nightmare speedrun strat is to hear a 2-second anecdote from a documentary that people used to get radium poisoning from painting watch faces, be curious enough that you buy a book to learn more, and be met with medical and legal horror beyond anything you could have imagined. This was almost one of my favorite books of the year! Almost.

Radium Girls is very lovingly crafted and incredibly well-researched; one of those things that’s hard to get through but that you want to read sections of again as soon as you’ve finished. The umbrage I take with it is that it’s very Catholic. The author and many of her subjects are Irish and their religion is important to them, but it casts a martyr-y narrative over the whole thing that I found uncomfortable. Seventeen-year-old girls taking a factory job they didn’t know was dangerous are framed as brave, working-class heroes, but there’s not a set moral lesson to be gained from this story. Sarah Maillefer didn’t make “a sacrifice” when she agreed to the first radium tests, she agreed because she was terrified. She didn’t think she was helping she was begging for help.

The Mushroom at the End of the World: On the Possibility of Life in Capitalist Ruins by Anna Tsing Tsing is an incredibly skilled researcher and ethnographer; there are so many good ideas in this book that I’d almost consider it essential leftist text… if I could stand the way it was structured. Tsing posits that because nature is built on precariousness she will build her book the same way, allowing it to grow like a mushroom, and thus chapters don’t progress linearly and are written more like freeform poetry than a series of academic arguments. Some people are really going to love that, but I’m me and a mushroom is a mushroom and a book is a book. I don’t think in the way Tsing does, and while I tried to keep an open mind it’s hard to play along when something is this academically dense and makes so many ambitious claims. As if to prove how different our structuring methods are, I’ve made my own thoughts into a pros and cons list

Things I liked: • ‘Contamination’ as something inherent to diversity • ‘Scalability’ as a flawed way of thinking (Tsing has written whole essays about this that I find very compelling, but a main example here is that China and the US have come down on Japanese matsutake research for being too ‘site specific’ and not yielding enough empirical data) • Discussing how Americans were so invested in self-regulating systems in the 1950s we thought they could be applied to literally everything, including ecosystems • “The survivors of war remind us of the bodies they climbed over- or shot- to get to us. We don’t know whether to love or hate the survivors. Simple moral judgements don’t come to hand.” • Any and all fieldwork Tsing shares is amazing; I especially liked reading about the culture of mushroom pickers living in the Cascades and their contained market system

Things I didn’t like: • Statements that sound deep but aren’t, e.g- “help is always in the service of another.” (Yep. That’s what that means. Unless an organism is doing something to help itself which then nullifies your whole opening argument.) • A very debatable definition of utilitarianism • “Capitalism vs pre-capitalism,” which seems like an insanely black-and-white stance for a book all about finding hidden middle ground • A chapter I found really interesting about how intertwined Japanese and American economies are, but it tries to cover the entire history of US-Japan relations. Seriously, starting with Governor Perry and continuing through present day, this could have been a whole different book and it’s a good example of what I mean when I say arguments feel too scattered (the conclusion it reaches is that in the 80s the yen was finally able to hold its own against the dollar. Just explain that part.) • A chapter arguing that ‘true biological mutualism’ is rarely a focus of STEM and is a new sociological development/way of thinking which is just… flat-out not true

For all the comparisons art gets to ‘being on a drug trip’ this anthropology textbook has come the closest for me. Moments of profound human wisdom, intercut with things I had trouble understanding because I wasn’t on the same wavelength, intercut with even more things that felt false or irrelevant. I can’t put it on the nice list but I am glad I read it.

[sebbybooks]

Going Through Lighting

Sebastian Stan x Fanfiction

“If he touched her, he couldn’t talk to her,

If he loved her, he couldn’t leave, if he

spoke he couldn’t listen, if he fought he

couldn’t win.” A.R

Deep breaths Franny.

Deep.

Fucking.

Breaths.

At the risk of sounding completely dramatic I was feeling morbidly sick and had to strongly resist the urge to not shout out my frustrations at the top of my lungs. Maybe I was slightly overreacting, but nonetheless I was still petrified. Considering the fact that I was thousands of feet in the air there was nothing in this world that I hated more than flying. Yet there I was headed all the way to California to hear about a surprise from my Dad that apparently couldn't be said to me over the phone.

I inaudibly let out a string of silent curse words that would make a sailor blush. I returned my focus back to my computer screen to finish one of my favorite films of all time in efforts to relax. I was mindlessly watching An Affair to Remember, a movie that by now I have reduced to memory. It was the scene where Terry was racing to get to the Empire State Building to confess her love to Nickie, before a car came whizzing by and hit her. When I suddenly noticed from out of the corner of my eye that the guy sitting next to me had been watching my laptop screen too.

Seeing that he had been caught spying on me he felt obliged to speak up. "You know I really hate that part. Cary Grant's character waited for hours on end and she never even showed up." The guy to my right said as he slightly leans a little closer causing our shoulders to brush. His cologne fills under my nose and I inhale it slowly. It almost duals as an aromatherapy for my anxiety. Almost.

Pulling my wireless headphones from my ears I shift a little in my seat to face him and smiled a sardonic smile. "Are you kidding me?" I gaped. I pressed the space bar on my laptop to pause the movie fully prepared to defend the actions of a fictitious woman from a 1957 melodramatic film classic. "Terry desperately tried to get to him. It wasn't her fault she became paralyzed after the accident. Nickie was clearly obtuse and too stupid to think that even for a second she didn't wait for him!"

I waited for his rebuttal, but oddly enough he remained tight lipped. We stared awkwardly at each other like it was some weird staring contest neither one of us wanted to lose. Eventually I blinked. As soon as I did I took in his appearance and from what I could see on the outside he was fairly decent. Ok I'll admit decent would not have begun to describe his natural attractiveness. His hair was longer on the top and shorter on the sides. You could see shadows of facial hair and tiny bits of gray stubble around his mouth and jawline.

He wore a pair of fitted tailored ash gray trousers and a crisp white Oxford rolled up to his forearm, he certainly wasn't dressed for a long flight. By the looks of his five thousand dollar Cartier wristwatch I wondered what the hell was he doing back in here economy class. My eyes start to stray further down his body and I quit while I was ahead because I could already see the slight bulge of his crotch. To avoid looking like a complete pervert I nip our meaningless conversation in the bud and I hit play on my movie. Right as I'm placing my earbuds back in I hear the faintest laugh come out of him. I bite back on my instinct to keep quite. "Now what?"

"Nothing. . ." His voice trailed off. "Is this your first time flying?" He asks with a knowing looking. Those bright blue eyes bore into me.

"Flying isn't exactly on my list of things that excite me, but no this isn't my first time." I hesitated. "What was it that gave me away?" I asked purely out of curiosity. I gripped my middle finger and index finger tightly to stimulate feeling back into my hand that's started to tingle.

"For starters you were fidgeting in your seat for the longest time and for about a minute or two you stopped squeezing the life out of your hand while you were talking to me. I figured if I came up with something to say you would get distracted and maybe just for a moment you would think about something else so that your fingers would still have functioning nerves in your hand by the time we landed. " He says, and within an instant I dropped them to my lap. I immediately start to cringe at myself.

One would think it would get easier over time and that I would find better ways to at least deal with my fear of being on airplanes. Being an assistant buyer for Saks comes with the territory, but traveling outside of work I typically liked to avoid it at all cost. A fact that seems to escape my father. When he called me a few days ago with an urgency in his voice that made my stress levels skyrocket. Only to be replaced with confusion because it wasn't like my dad to be so secretive about anything. He asked that I come out to see him right away despite it not being a life or death matter. Considering I was all he had and he was adamant about me seeing him. I figured it was all just a rouse for him to just get me to spend more time with him.

"Thanks." I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, forcing my eyes shut hoping that I would disappear from my inability to act normal on airplanes. For a few seconds I believed he had returned to minding his own business. It was silence, and then, "You don't want to know what my name is?" He asks.

I can feel his eyes on me and I purposely keep my head turned away from him. "If I guess Rumpelstiltskin do I get to keep my first born child? Or can you simply not say your name Betelgeuse?" I couldn't stop myself from teasing him. I tried to hide the grin trying to grow on my face. Was I actually smiling?

"Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice." He paused and looked all around him as if he misplaced something. He brought his hands to his chest in a frantic gesture. "I'm still here so nope that's not my name either."

"How unfortunate then." I feigned a sigh. He looked at me as if he had met his match and for some reason I liked the approving look. I easily wanted more. His presence brought a temporary calmness that I didn't want to lose so quickly despite my initial cold shoulder brought on by trepidations from flying. A part of me was actually settled which was something that almost never happened to me on flights. "Francesca. Though every one calls me Franny." I introduced myself. I was still facing forward looking down at my laptop.

"Well it's a pleasure Franny, everyone calls me Sebastian." He said to me. Even the sound out his name in my head silenced the white noise fueling my growing levels of perturbation. After learning the name of the guy who clearly wasn't shamed to admit to liking circa 1950s romance cinematic features such as An American in Paris, To Catch a Thief, and Houseboat. I figured he had taste or oddly was just into films starring Cary Grant. For the most part our conversation mainly consisted of questions that felt straight out of an article that helped people with conversational ice breakers.

Like for instance I learned that he prefers coffee over tea, no siblings, he is an animal lover but has zero pets, he's single, and reads more than he watches television. Oh and that he is single. I had to reiterate that into my brain just to be sure. I made sure to keep my answers to his questions short and sweet because the chances of us speaking again after this flight were slim to none. Guys that looked like him never stayed single for long, and I wasn't interested in competing for his attention alongside the flight attendant who couldn't stop staring at him every chance she got. Which of course he didn't notice and if he did then he was probably use to the attention.

"So Franny is this trip for work or for pleasure?" Sebastian asked.

I was stiff as log in my seat apart from my leg that wouldn't stop bouncing up and down. The pattern in turbulence fluctuated greatly. Almost every ten minutes the plane would jostle which of course in my mind made me think only the worse. "Is this your way of you trying to be helpful again?" I could already feel my pulse spiking.

"Actually it was my way of trying to pry information out of you." This guy was either arrogant or really confident in himself. He was looking down at something on his phone completely unbothered.

"That didn't sound creepy at all." I told him.

"Well I'm assuming it's something really important if it's got you out of your comfort zone." He pushed. All I could think about was that Sebastian had picked the worse time to try and make small talk. I felt the wave of turbulence again and that time it was back to back. Panic was prickling up my spine when everyone was instructed to return to their seats and fasten their seatbelt. We were now experiencing changes in the altitude due to the incoming thunderstorm. Just wanted I needed to hear.

My throat burned. Like I actually felt a burning sensation in the back of my throat. Somehow I still found the ability to muster up sound. "My dad , " I sat upright trying to sit in a more relaxed position. "I think he's lonely and I miss him so yeah here I am." I huffed.

"You're a good daughter." Sebastian nodded as he listened. He didn't know me well enough to offer praise, but suffering through this flight I wanted a damn trophy.

"Since I'm sure you were going to ask me the same I'll go ahead and answer for you." He added. I rolled my eyes playfully as I sucked in a shaky breath. "What's in California?"

Sebastian crossed one of his legs over the other and rested his elbow onto the armrest. He was leaning on it and his body was angled more so in my direction. We were siting so close now that it almost looked like we were sharing a seat. That made the flight attendant who had been gawking at him do a double take in our direction.

His facial expression turned grim and slightly annoyed. I could sense from the tautness in his body language that this was probably a sensitive subject. "This must be parents' weekend." Sebastian's laughed lacked humor. He hesitated on what he was about to say next and he gnawed on his bottom lip for a good fifteen seconds. An for some reason I silently watched him do it.

"My mother went off and got eloped to one of her flavors of the week. Tonight I was suppose to meet the happy couple for the first time. All of this was sprung on me last minute. Finding a flight that left out tonight was finding a needle in a hay stack.” He had as much enthusiasm in his voice as Eeyore. Which was none existent.

"I'm going to be honest with you that sounds awful." I looked at him apologetically. I shook my head at the thought of my dad pulling a stunt like that and not telling me. We might not see eye to eye over everything but we had always been close. Even thinking about it hypothetically dampened my mood.

"Yeah, tell me about it." He glowered. Sebastian rubbed both of his hands over his face and made a noise into his hands that easily passed as a growl or a moan. It didn't matter because now I had both sounds locked into my memory bank. "However, my only bright spot was being able to sit next this raven haired beauty who could use a drink." I was slow to process who he was referring to.

"Hmmm, well now that made me remember I need to dye my hair bright purple." I lied. For some reason I could never seem to take a compliment, especially if it was a flirtatious one. There was no way I could covertly sneak a cursory glance at my appearance to get a glimpse of what he saw. By now I was certain my makeup was splotchy and my lips were chapped from biting them ferociously.

My clothes were every bit of casual I had on a long sleeve black leotard with camel colored high-rise chino pants, and I sported my favorite pair of worn white high tops. When I glanced up at him the tight feeling in my chest was replaced by something entirely different. Indigestion maybe? Sebastian leaned in a little closer and he angled his face closer to my ear. "It would still look sexy on you." He lowered his voice and I can't deny that it was doing sinful things to me.

Not a moment too soon to make matters even more stressful the pilot made an announcement that there was going to be an emergency landing due to the extreme storm brewing in the sky. Which was deemed unsafe and can not be flown above or even around. Mother Nature was really showing her ass tonight. If something else bad was going to happen I would really appreciate if it waited till I wasn't on this flight anymore.

"What's one of your turn offs about a person?" Sebastian casually asked me. My neck turned so fast I swore I broke it. "What?" I coughed.

He tossed a handful of almonds in his mouth while staring off at something ahead. We were about to land and have a layover completely throwing me off schedule. I looked off into the direction he was looking at and on first glance I had no clue where this was coming from. "Franny?" He called out to regain my attention.

"Guys that aren't funny but think they are comedians." I said automatically. Which was a random one considering I had a whole list. "Why do you ask?"

Sebastian shrugged. "Because mine is meaningless eye fucking." He answered bluntly. A couple in front of us immediately turned around in synchronization and stared back at us with a disapproving eye. Sebastian's devil may care act seemed to only trigger them further. When I saw that between was a little boy, feeling embarrassed I mouthed an apology. The mom ceaselessly just shook her head as if we were degenerates.

"Anyway," Sebastian continued like nothing happened. I give him a look. "That woman over there has been eyeing me since I stepped foot on this plane. We keep making this awkward eye contact and I'm grinning back showing all of my teeth because I don't know how else to respond."

So he did notice her watching him.I snorted. "Don't tell me you're shy."

"No. . ." Sebastian paused. "I have shy like tendencies." He could barely keep a straight face at his confession. I wanted to laugh but it was cut short by me being jostled in my seat yet again. I gripped onto the armrest for dear life. All of my tips and tricks to ease my anxiety were failing me. I was headed for full on panic attack.

"Franny?"

"Hold on." I said faintly. Inhaling through my nose and exhaling from my mouth. The tears were coming I could already start to feel them well up in my eyes.

"Give me your hand." Sebastian said as concern filled up his face. This guy knew knew nothing about me apart from me being a total badass when it came to the art of puzzling and that I liked extremely sour gummy worms. We were not friends and I wasn't even sure if we were acquaintances. Sebastian was simply someone to talk to until the plane landed.

"I am not giving you my hand I hardly know you." I said on a exhalation. "You could be a psycho." My voice was a whisper solely on the off chance that someone was eavesdropping and my words could be taken out of context. I wanted to take that chance and trust him but this whole ordeal just seemed so weird.

Sebastian lowered his head closer to me and mimicked my tone. "Or I could be someone who just wants to show a little kindness to the person I'm currently crushing on."

My eyes opened wide and sat there dumbfounded for at least a millisecond while my brain tried to catch up with this cliché I was living in. "Dare I ask but are these recycled pick up lines from middle school?" I quipped.

"Maybe." He answered with a half smile that was making me anxious for all the wrong reasons.

"Normally crushes take longer than an hour to develop." I replied nonchalantly. Sebastian looked up, his eyes locked onto mine. "And yet falling doesn't happen in slow motion."

A nervous laugh escapes from my mouth. I waited to hear a joke or something incredibly inappropriate to indicate that he was just messing with me. My mind was swimming with things to say but they all ended with the same question. What in the actual hell was going on? Seven painfully long minutes dragged on by with my thoughts going back and forth saying do or don't. It's a just a hand Franny and a kind gesture at that. Apart from the modern day wave of creeps what was there to be afraid of? Did I just answer my own question? My musing was interrupted when I heard Sebastian's voice commingle with the sound of feminine laughter.

I looked up over at his seat and low and behold the flight attendant who could barely do her job for salivating over Sebastian the whole flight made her way over to him . That woman was persistent I give her that. She turned her body unnecessarily close into his seat as she tucked an errant strand of brown hear behind her ear. She was obnoxiously fawning over something stupid he said I'm sure. The woman was practically throwing herself on him. Flashing all her pearly whites and batting her long stark black lashes at him. Jesus, there was nothing imperfect about her. She even made her uniform look hot.

I wasn't a jealous person nor did I posses some claim over Sebastian. I am however still human and sooner or later my emotions eventually will get the better of me. Not being able to stand the sound her of lilting laughter. My arm reacted before the rest of my brain could catch up. My actions weren't subtle in the slightest and before I knew it I had my hand wrapped around Sebastian's hand. Their conversation had come to an abrupt halt and I was too embarrassed to see the look on either of their faces. I should've just let go of his hand and acted like a normal person.

It was awkwardly placed on top of his and I instantly regretted the decision when I remembered how clammy it was in comparison to his. Feeling gutsy I finally lifted my head to see that both of their gazes zeroed in on my hand placement. I hated that there was a sense of enjoyment on Sebastian’s face.

I reminded myself that I wasn't competing for Sebastian's attention, but when the flight attendant whose name I do not care to learn looked at me like I was growing a tail from my forehead frowned as she walked away. I couldn't help but give her my best "fuck you too" smile back at her. I was just about to move it away when I felt Sebastian swiftly flip his hand over to fit mine into the palm of his hands.

"How long will you be in Napa Valley?" Sebastian's voice cut through my thoughts as if nothing happened. I was about to say a snappy remark accusing him being a suspect on John Walsh's unsolved mysteries with all of his questions. When I felt the warmth of his hand the moment his fingers unfurled and laced through mine effortlessly . My breath caught when the pad of Sebastian's thumb lightly stroked the side of my hand in a slow circular motion. It wasn't a sensual act we were taking part in and the gesture seemed completely juvenile. I don't think Sebastian was trying to get a reaction out of it either. Truth of the matter was that I couldn't stop feeling like my entire body would combust just from one simple touch.

"Just for a couple of days." I muttered. I was unable to concentrate for that fact he was holding onto me. Was hand foreplay a thing, because this sure felt like it. I felt a twinge of disappointment in my chest because I knew that eventually I was going to have to let go. Gosh did that make me sound crazy? I've known him for five seconds.

"Any chance you'd stick around long enough to grab a cup of coffee with me?"I turned my head to see if he was watching me, but he was staring at everything but me. I studied the sharp contours of the side of his face to see that he was looking straight ahead at the seat in front of him. Could it be? Did I actually make the cool and funny Sebastian nervous?

I scrunched my nose at the speculation. "I don't think you can handle my chaotic energy when I have caffeine." I answered truthfully, which was met with more silence. Sebastian sucked in his bottom lip and quirked his brows in response to what I had just said. Any minute now we were getting ready to land and we hadn't even exchanged phone numbers. "It's a good thing decaf exist." I added.

Sebastian nodded his head slowly and his postured relaxed which suggested he had hoped I changed my mind. " I concur."

"Can I ask you a question?" It felt random and completely out of nowhere but the thought had been sitting on the tip of my tongue since he mentioned it.

"Well it's about damn time you did." Sebastian squeezed my hand and let me tell you the grip was firm. It was putting the kinkiest thoughts in my head and I needed to kill them immediately.

"Are you happy for your mom?" I asked him, I try to steer the conversation from my indecent imagination. It was a question that made him go stoic. His jaw ticked back and forth as he rotated our clasped hands. Sebastian intently stared at the polish on my nails. It was the shade Yank My Doodle by OPI but that was besides the point. It was obvious that he was trying to deflect.

His nod was terse and our eyes connect when he looks up. "She looks for temporary bliss in things or people. Nothing really satisfies her. My mom sees life through rose colored glasses and sooner or later she always ends up disappointed but quickly onto the next ." Sebastian says miserably. "Right now she's clung to a man who owns a small hardware store and has two first names."

I swallow down the lump in my throat. There was absolutely no way the man I had in mind was the same man Sebastian was referring to. I mean there was a lot of men in the Valley that owned their own hardware shops right? "Does his name happen to be Eric Taylor?" My voice came out strangled, because there was just no fucking way.

"Does everyone know this man?" He asked with an entrancing smile that was unnecessarily sexy and so so so unattainable now.

I pulled my hand away like his was made of fire and it didn't nearly hurt as much as the look on Sebastian's face from my sudden action. "I know him alright. He's my father."

[evonymus]

Deadly Premonition 2

Everything I write here is just my opinion. I don't try to represent someone else's  thoughts and feelings. I fully understand that tastes differ and things I dislike may be enjoyed by others and vice versa. By writing this I don't try to attack anyone who has different opinion about the game. This text will have spoilers, so don’t read it if you haven’t beaten the game yet. It’s a lot of rambling that is not really structurized or anything, just a big collection of thoughts. Strong language is used.

Gameplay-wise the game seemed pretty meh. I fully realize it may feel very different if you actually play it instead of watching, the feeling of completion, getting stuff done and all that sorta thing. Still, the majority of game seems like a shit-ton of donkey work. Side missions are a very mixed bag. Sometimes they feel like the ones in the 1st game when you need to talk to someone or get an item for them, those ones are ok. However, there's a lot of grinding which you'd expect from an mmorpg, nor a murder mystery. As for the main missions, this is where one of my biggest problems with the game comes in. The first game was all about investigation. Go to the case-related place and investigate it, examine the corpse, talk to witnesses, follow your new lead and so on. It felt like a real investigation. Sure, York did rely on supernatural to solve it, but it was like twice in the entire game (fishing the docs from the waterfall thanks to the cup and going to Harry because the newspaper told him to. I don't count FK in the coffee since it's not much of a clue, just foreshadowing). He only used it because with Nick getting arrested he had no other clues what to do next. It sure felt a bit weird but...understandable? In the 2nd game, however, there's no real investigation going on. All York does is just blindly following oracles and hope that something good will come out of it and there will be progress. And there is because MAGIC! We used to be a competent FBI agent, now it turns out we're only successful because MAGIC! Zach even blatantly admits he has left FBI because he doesn’t get MAGIC HINTS anymore. For me it's a massive let-down. Also, since there's little logical reasoning behind many main missions, they feel super-meh as well. Oh, hey, it's an important person, can't wait to meet and question them! Waaaait-wait-wait-wait, you've got a collectathon in front of you that makes no sense in general but still will move your investigation forward because MAGIC! (Yes, I'm stil bitter and angry as fuck at those stupid drums that do nothing). The thing is, I totally understand why the developers felt it was perfectly normal to make the game this way. The reason behind it is called LOL WACKY. DP gained fame as being a bizarre and wacky game, which to my mind is pretty unfair. It had its moments, sure, but that's what's made it special - just the right balance of "sane" and "insane". Unfortunately, due to its reputation the developers got the wrong message and stopped bothering to make things coherent. "Who cares if something doesn't make sense, it's WACKY and that's exactly what fans want!" Big fat nope. I don't mind a bit of silliness in games, however this game goes far beyond "a bit". The same goes for the characters. Sorry, LOL ZANY characters, another DP1 (not really) staple. DP2 doesn't have as many really quirky people as the 1st game does but man they felt forced and annoying, from their overall shticks to speech patterns. There are characters from DP1 I dislike, but I dislike them for being dicks in general. DP2 characters though I hate from the bottom of my heart for how goddamn irritating they are. I'm sorry, maybe I got old or something, but I really don't think that a concept of a guy refusing to wear clothes is funny. He feels forced as fuck. Just as the guy who has adopted several personas just for lulz (I might be wrong on David, perhaps it is stated in the game that he really has split personality. It won't change anything much though). People in DP1 felt like real people, someone you could meet in real life. Sure, you can meet a guy wearing nothing but his boots, briefs and a hat irl as well, but somehow I doubt it'll be a pleasant acquaintance or, at least, won’t make you question his mental state. Also, don't even get me started on Simon. I literally hated every second of him on the screen. Cartoonish characters were my biggest concern after D4 and boy I was right to worry about that. Also, you don't get to really know people, especially the important ones, so when stuff happens, it barely has any effect on you. Remember how DP1 made you stick with all the main cast for pretty much the entirety of the game, so they felt like family and the end-game literally torn your soul apart? DP2 doesn't even try to get close to that, except for Patricia, but the emotional impact of the ending is nowhere near. The way people talk in the game is atrocious. It often feels like an amateur play written by someone overestimating their writing abilities way too often (talk with Lena in the bar is a good example of what I mean here). Which is a darn shame since there's nothing like that in the 1st game where pretty much all the dialogues were coherent. When thoughts like "That sounds dumb", "That makes no sense" and “That’s not how people talk” are swirling in your mind almost non-stop, that's not a good sign. The directing also seemed to degrade a bit. While there were some scenes in the original, that raised eyebrows and concerns, this game feels more like something of Spy Fiction era. Someone please inform Swery that making someone to look at the rotating screen for too long doesn't make them think "Oh, that's neat!", it makes them wanna puke. There are two little parts that I remember really well: 1) the shot of Patti's mouth when she's tempted to touch a red tree that goes for like 15 seconds while she's making strange noises; 2) That moment when Zach is dreaming about Kaysen, specifically, when he starts screaming and shooting. That frame starts with Zach already screaming and honestly it made me giggle with how silly it looks. Certainly that was not the intended player's reaction. This whole part might seem like nit-picking, but it really rubbed me the wrong way.

As for the plot, Le Carre part felt so-so and rushed with main missions mostly being a flop and major characters dropping like flies. Rest in peace, *character_name, we hardly knew ye. (Also, what the fucking FUCK was that part with an alligator tearing off Danny's hand? If that was a red herring, that was the dumbest fucking red herring I've seen in my entire goddamn life).  Also, as a side-note, let me make a little confession here: I'm fucking dumb. I'm dumb as a rock. I can never guess anything, being oblivious to obvious things. Still, I suspected Avery from the very beginning due to his heights and as soon as Lena said the drug changes people's physical properties I was convinced he had been involved. Welp, guess what. Sadly, solving this little riddle has brought me no joy. The ending though... Honestly, I don't even want to give any sort of analysis to it. Just thinking about it makes me mad. All I can say is that it was one of the dumbest, most melodramatic, crappy anime-esque endings I've ever seen. And trust me, I've seen some shit, I've beaten MGS4. I could never expect that someone who has wrote DP1 could write something as ridiculous as that. It was so dumb it wasn’t even funny. "Everything was very bad but then FRIENDSHIP IS MAGIC happened and everyone lived happily ever after BECAUSE MAGIC!" That's how fanfiction is written. That’s some AU shit a desperate fan could cobble together. I am fully aware there's a lot of people who are really into this exact sort of stuff. As for me, it makes my skin crawl so fucking much it has probably reached Spain by now.  All in all, DP2 is a terrible disappointment. The only real up-side of it is that it has reminded me how good the first game was.

[eryiss]

Request: Both Addictive and Electric

Summary: After finishing filming for the final season of the fantasy series Fairy Tail, Laxus finds himself at a party. Across the dancefloor is Freed, a co-star and a man who Laxus respects more than any other actor. But his feelings are more than just respect, and the space separating them is an ocean, but Laxus wants to change that. He just needs some time. And courage. [Fraxus One Shot]

This was part of a prompt based request thing I'm doing, based off of a request to have a Fraxus Actor AU made by @veikari. I hope you all enjoy and if you have a request please leave a comment or maybe talk to me tumblr.

You can read this on FanFiction, Archive of our Own, or under the cut. Hope you enjoy it ^.^

Both Addictive and Electric

"Well, I'm sure you were bored of my voice before this even started," Makarov spoke into the microphone, getting a chuckle from the crowd. "So I'll end it here. Have a fun night, drink well, and don't do anything that'll get you in tomorrow's papers."

A cheer went through the room, and Laxus raised his glass of champagne into the air in solidarity. He was attending the wrap party for Fairy Tail's latest series, in which Laxus was a main actor. The show was a high budget, large scale fantasy drama that had been on the air for years. It had managed to shake off the comparisons to Game of Thrones and was standing strong with its own passionate audience. It was one of Laxus' largest rolls, and he was proud of the show and what he had contributed to it.

Laxus had been relatively famous since he was young, thanks to his grandfather being a well-known producer. He had been the embodiment of spoiled celebrity kid, so his grandfather had ended up refusing to give him parts based off his behaviour. After years of getting smaller parts on crappy shows, he and his grandfather made up and Laxus got an audition for a small part in Fairy Tail.

His part sort of… exploded.

Originally he was just a war general. Not overly important, more of an antagonistic rival character for the protagonist to overcome. The character got peoples attention in the first season, so he got more screen time in season two. This came with a narrative arc focused around a member of the royal family, who his character had a rivalry with. People responded well to this, and both his character and the prince were promoted to the main cast from that point. It was the best roll that he had worked for himself, and he was proud of his work.

Although he couldn't claim all the credit. He wouldn't have gotten there without Freed.

Freed played the prince and had done so perfectly. The antagonistic rivalry between the two of them – ranging from butting heads on small things to full on fights – were some of the best acting Laxus had done. When together, they dominated any scene, and somehow had managed to get along well behind the scenes without difficulty, which apparently showed in their performances. One review claimed they had an electric, addictive chemistry together.

Even thinking of the man, Laxus looked towards him.

Freed was on the other side of the dance floor. He was speaking with Mirajane – one of the lead directors of the show – and looked amazing. Laxus rarely saw him in formalwear, as both their characters mainly wore ruined clothes and were covered in dirt and blood for their story this year, and to see him so clean cut was amazing. The blonde had forgotten how good his co-star looked in a suit, and now was a cruel reminder of the fact.

His attraction to the man wasn't ideal. Laxus wasn't insecure about his sexuality, he couldn't care less. But he and Freed had some scenes that put them in less than brilliant situations if one had a crush on the other. Lots of intense arguments where they ended up face to face, quite closely; occasional falling against each other in battle scenes in positions that were somewhat compromising; and on one occasion they had to bathe in a fairly small river beside one another. That was not Laxus' favourite scene to film.

Mirajane didn't help, insisting they needed a tighter shot and that they should get closer. She knew – Laxus wasn't sure how, but she knew.

But now, their work relationship was over. The season marked the end of Fairy Tail, and therefore he and Freed would no longer be working together. It was inevitable, and it wasn't as if they would never see each other again. But they weren't going to be spending most of their days together anymore. And that wasn't the nicest feeling in the world.

As if to contrast his melancholy, a burst of laughter filled the room.

Laxus looked to the source and saw most people watching a large screen, wherein Gildarts was waist deep in a decorative fountain, and Natsu was laughing madly at him for falling in. The blooper reel had begun then; Laxus hadn't realised. He shifted his seat so that he could better watch the screen – it was cheap entertainment, but funny.

For whatever reason, the editor had put the bloopers in order of plot lines. First all the clips containing Natsu and Lucy, the main characters; then the side plot surrounding Gajeel's character; then Levy's. As a clip of Jet stumbling over a line for the fifth time ended, Laxus had finished his drink and was picking at a plate of nachos that were on his table. The next clip was familiar to him – it was located in the castle set that he and Freed had done some of their scenes in. So it was time for their bloopers now.

The first few were fairly conventional. A side actor unable to get out a line, the camera operator accidentally walking backwards into a wall during a shot, and a few other small things put in there to fill in time.

When one scene started to play, Laxus rolled his eyes but grinned. He knew the clip, it was from a scene shared by both he and Freed, where their characters were arguing viciously. On cue, with their face's inches from each other, Laxus made the mistake that Freed still refused to let him live down. Saying Freed's actual name rather than his characters'.

The second Freed heard his own name, his face quickly turned from his character's anger to his own smugness. He raised his eyebrow, smirked, and Laxus' heartbeat increased. This happened both when they filmed the scene as well as when Laxus watched it back.

"Excuse me?" Freed had said, smirking as Laxus groaned.

"Shut up," The blonde grunted.

"No, I don't think I will," Freed continued, not stepping back from their close position. "Because Laxus Dreyar- my apologies. Award winning actor, Laxus Dreyar."

"You're such a dick," Laxus chuckled.

"Has forgotten the key principal of acting," Freed kept going. "That there's a little difference between actors and their characters."

Laxus watched as he pushed Freed's face away on the screen before the clips went to whatever the next blooper was. The blonde paid no mind to it, letting his gaze drift to Freed again, who was laughing as he watched the clips with everyone else. The light was hitting him just right and he looked practically angelic, and it left a dullness in his stomach. Even despite the music and the sound of the video, Laxus could basically hear the sound of Freed's velvet laugh. Maybe he was imagining it.

With a small sigh, he picked up the half-drunk beer he'd abandoned when the champagne had been handed out and stood up. He looked to Bickslow, who was sitting on the table with him.

"I'm gonna get some air."

"Sure," Bickslow smiled, and it was perhaps sympathetic. Bickslow was one of the few people Laxus had told about his attraction to Freed.

The blonde gave him a short nod and made his way out of the event room. He followed the signs to the fire exit and opened the door, walking out onto the metal balcony that made up the fire escape. He leant on it, cradling the beer in his hand and looking up at the sky. It was a cloudless night, meaning he had an unhindered view of the stars that hung above him. It looked pretty nice, even Laxus could admit.

Somewhat melodramatic though.

He drained his beer, a sense of sadness filling him. It was an odd feeling. Not only was he not going to see Freed as much as he would like, he was saying goodbye to the show. He'd been working on it for years, had gotten close to both the cast and crew, and it basically all over now. This hadn't happened in Laxus' career yet, and he didn't really know how to deal with it.

But, after draining his beer did nothing, he turned to the pack of cigarettes in his jacket pocket. A habit he really needed to stop.

"You do know the tabloids will destroy you if they find out you do this."

Laxus' head shot around at Freed's voice, and he saw the man walking towards him with a small smile on his face. Equal parts teasing and soft; an expression only Freed could manage to create. Laxus took a single drag of the cigarette before stubbing it out and flicking it into a drain; it was just rude to smoke in Freed's face.

"I barely have one a month, hardly news," Laxus shrugged, looking over the balcony again. Freed joined him, leaning against the railing beside him.

"I think the people who wrote the multiple articles about you in men's health would disagree," Freed chuckled, and Laxus flushed a little. He'd been forced to model for that magazine five times now, being on the front cover three times. "What's wrong, Laxus?"

There was no point in arguing, but he would anyway.

"Who says anything wrong?"

"There's an open bar which you've barely used. You've smoked, which you only do when you're either stressed or sad, and you're leaning on a railing in the middle of winter when you could be inside watching a video of your co-workers making asses out of themselves."

"Smartass," Laxus muttered.

"Yes," Freed agreed, and Laxus chuckled. "So, I ask again, what's wrong?"

"Just feeling a little shit, you know," Laxus sighed. "First time saying goodbye to something I actually cared about. Not really sure how to deal with it properly."

"I can understand that. It's not a pleasant prospect," Freed nodded a little, then looked towards him. "But we still have some time left. And I've no doubt you'll be redubbing your lines when it comes to ADR, because you still haven't learned not to mumble half of your lines."

"Fuck off," Laxus grinned, but didn't deny the claim. "But yeah, I guess so. Just won't be the same, though."

"In what way, exactly?" Freed asked, and Laxus sighed.

He wanted to tell Freed. Tell him that he was going to miss spending time with him. Wanted to tell him their time in makeup was a highlight of Laxus' days for months because they got to be themselves and have fun with each other. Wanted to tell him that if he had even a little bit more confidence that he would be taking him out to his favourite burger place or sushi bar or whatever right now on their first date. Of course he couldn't say all that, so he just shrugged.

Freed looked at him for a little while but didn't say anything. He looked over the balcony with a content expression on his features, and it took a lot of restraint on Laxus' part not to ogle him. Because he really was a handsome man; unfairly so.

"You know, given your fame for playing stoic characters," Freed began, seemingly out of nowhere. "You're awfully easy to read."

"What does that mean?" Laxus asked, a little cautious.

"It means I'm going to miss you too," Freed said, tone a little soft. He shifted slightly and Laxus could feel his forearm resting against Freed's. That must have been intentional. "But if you think I'm doing the press tour with anyone but you you're incredibly mistaken."

A sense of giddiness filled Laxus, and he blushed a little at the sensation. He smiled a little but continued to look forward.

"And what if I wanna do it with someone else?"

"Well they pair us up by storyline, so the only other people you could pair with would be Bickslow or Ever," Freed chuckled. "Could you handle spending days alone with them in an un-air-conditioned room answering the same question hundreds of times?"

"And you can make it more tolerable, huh?" Laxus nudged Freed with his shoulder. "How d'you plan on doing that?"

Freed seemed to think for a moment. "How willing are you to piss off your grandfather?"

"Spent most of my teenage years doing it, why?" Laxus asked with a frown.

"Because he explicitly told us not to do anything that might get us in the tabloids," Freed had a small smirk on his face, and Laxus couldn't help the small thrill that ran through him. "And, I imagine that this would make the papers eventually."

"You gonna flash the cameraman or something?" Laxus chuckled, and Freed laughed.

"Get me another beer and I'll consider it," Freed grinned. "But actually, I want to take you to dinner tomorrow night."

"To dinner?"

"As a date, Laxus," Freed clarified, now looking directly at Laxus. The blonde felt his heart stop at the words. "Because, as fun as it's been dancing around it, the fact is I like you. I had made enough excuses as to why I shouldn't ask you out, and I'm done with it. So, Mr Dreyar, would you like to attend a press tour with someone you've been on a date on?"

Laxus waited a moment, to process, before he grinned. "Fuck yeah I would."

"Good," Freed said, and he was smiling. No smirk or grin in sight, and it made Laxus warm inside. "Now, are you still planning on spending the rest of the night out here. Because if you are then I'll inevitably be the one tasked with brining your slice of cake to you and I don't think I have the energy to fend Natsu off while doing it so you might not get any."

"Wow, you ain't willing to fight a guy so I can have some cake huh? Maybe this date ain't a good idea," Laxus teased, and Freed laughed. When he spoke again, Laxus' voice was softer. "I'll go back in a minute, fucking boiling in there, and there's too many people."

"Of course. Take your time," Freed smiled.

Freed went to walk away, but Laxus felt a sudden burst of courage flow through him. He took Freed's hand in his own and intertwined their fingers, making Freed pause and look at him with a slight cock in his eyebrow. How he had that much control over his damn eyebrows Laxus still didn't know.

"Y'know, if I'm gonna piss off Gramps, I'm gonna do it right," Laxus said in explanation, standing up and facing Freed.

"Meaning?" Freed asked.

"Meaning this," Laxus grinned.

He tugged Freed towards him, so that they were chest to chest again. Freed grinned back at him, still with that cock in his eyebrow, and Laxus didn't say anything. He placed his hand on the back of Freed's neck and pulled him that little bit closer. He leant down and closed the distance between them both, bringing their lips together in their first kiss.

It was fucking electric, and Laxus found himself addicted within an instant.

[haru-sen]

Out of curiosity, why do you write as a hobby. What do you feel when writing? Do you see the whole plot first and details later?

You’re about to get a whole ass answer complete with childhood trauma.  Mild trigger warning for child abuse?  

So, tumblr ate the first draft of this and I’m annoyed.  Today has been very annoying.  But I digress.  The easiest thing to talk about is the process.  I start everything with a small idea.  It can be a few lines of dialogue, a character prototype, or a “what if” question.  One of the first scenes I thought of for IAL was the “Jack making bad sandwiches” and Lucky asking “Are we poor?”  And I realized I really wanted to write that relationship dynamic.  Obviously that scene came much later in the story, but it was one of the first building blocks.  And then, I have to take that idea and build it into something that can stand on its own.  Because alone, it’s just the ramblings of a maniac.  Great, some OC made a joke about Jack’s cooking skills? Who really cares?  Well, you do, by that point in IAL.  (I assume you do if you made it that far...)

Feng’s an AU version of my main character from a novel series I really need to rework.  Spoiler: the conceptual question was, “what happens when heroes/adventurers settle down and have kids?  What kind of family life do they have?”  And then it turned into an in-depth examination of unhealthy family dynamics and the difficulty of being halfway between worlds both metaphorically and sometimes literally.  Second spoiler: Just because you’re an awesome monster-killer/mercenary duo, doesn’t mean you’re going to be great parents.  

So it’s usually some kind of idea, that I just keep building on till it becomes something that could be a more concrete story.  But it takes time to foment.  I’d been two months into the Overwatch fandom before I started writing IAL.  I had all kinds of ideas, mostly for the Angst!AU and the current timeline.  I’d written a few teaser scenes for that, but on a whim, started IAL instead.  And it grew so much faster than I expected.  

So it’s taken me awhile, but I’ve gotten to the point with ideas (and drafts!) where I can be excited about the shininess of a new thing, but also know that I’m really going to have to work on it to make it better.  It’s rarely just “poof!” and “awesome.”  I have to take an extra step to ask what makes this idea/character/scene stand out from everything else that is out there.  What am I really adding? And you know, sometimes stuff isn’t better/different/greater than everything else out there.  But it’s still enjoyable.  And I’ll take that too.

When I write, it’s planning and creativity.  On good days, I’m entranced in what I’m doing, really planning/living the scene in my head, and really pleased with my progress.  (Heavily focused daydreaming?)  On bad days, it’s a slog to stay on track, nothing feels good/inspired, and I feel like a hack.  I’ve learned that how I feel while creating doesn’t actually guarantee the quality of the work.  When I go back to edit, sometimes the stuff is really good, sometimes it’s not, and the stuff I write when I feel bad can actually be really good and vice versa. But it always needs to be edited.  

On a side note,  all my internet friends groups I made because of writing.  Sometimes we shared fandoms, but it was always the writing/reading that connected us.  (Sometimes, that was bad, because writers are neurotic and sometimes egotistical.  Shocking, I know.)  Put us all together and the insecurities were numerous.  :P    

Now, onto the heavy shit.  In my case, I don’t know if I can call writing a “hobby.”  It’s a coping mechanism.  I know that sounds a little pretentious, but bear with me. I would write even if there was no one else left to read it, because I’ve grown my brain in that direction.  It’s easier for me to work out shit on paper than it is to talk about.  (Or at least, I can make it sound cooler and more coherent on paper than just putting it in stream of consciousness sort of blather.)  

I started writing when I was 12.  I have loved reading all my life, but up till then never considered myself that creative.  I did some fiction writing before that, never very seriously and never with any intention to be a writer.  It might have never caught my interest, but I have immigrant parents who had good intentions and terrible parenting skills. 

 In middle school, things were pretty terrible at home.  I didn’t have outlets. I will flat out say they were abusive and crying got the response “I’ll give you something to cry about.”  I was kind of crybaby when I was five (yes, even for a five year old).  I had an excellent poker face by eleven.    

I used to draw, but I wasn’t very good at it, and my parents didn’t encourage it, because I wasn’t very good, so what was the point? (Yes, I know that logic is wrong, but that’s what I got told.) And also, even if I was good, I wasn’t going to make any money.  So don’t bother. I wasn’t allowed to play sports.  I had no musical talent or inclination.  I wasn’t really allowed to leave the house very often.�� If I wanted to go anywhere, I had to take my younger sisters (four and eight years younger than me) with me, because I was the oldest and what kind of sister was I if I went out with people and left them at home?  (Ahem.  More bad logic, I know.) No, they were hardcore serious about this.  And if they didn’t want me to go somewhere, they’d just say that they didn’t trust those people with my sisters.  And let’s not even get into the power dynamic with my sisters and how that worked.  It wasn’t pretty, for any of us.  

My parents, like the Asian stereotype goes, were obsessive on schoolwork.  So if I was doing “homework,” they left me alone.  And if I wanted to use the computer, I had better be doing homework.  I started journaling, for both therapeutic and legal reasons.  It was depressing as fuck recording the nonfiction events of my life.  One day, I wrote a little fanfiction scene from Sailor Moon in crappy script format.  It was so terrible.  But I liked it.  I reread it so many times.  It was empowering. So I wrote another one.  And then started a whole damn series.  It was baaaaad.  I filled multiple notebooks with this saga, in pencil, so it’s probably illegible now, though I have them in trunk somewhere.  I wrote a more polished (but still bad) version for a Sailor Moon fanfic archive and was thrilled when people actually read it and kind of liked it.  (...they had terrible taste, lol) But that’s how I passed the time.  At home. At school.  I just started writing when I was upset, or bored, or just because.  It was melodramatic, self-indulgent, and a coping mechanism.  My teachers encouraged it.  (English teachers usually liked me.)  And gradually, I got better at it.  I stopped writing scripts, started writing proper stories.  My characters became better, more fleshed out. I expanded into original fiction.  

Now seriously, I’m not going to say that I don’t have issues because of it.  But sharing this stuff doesn’t hurt me.  It’s uncomfortable in the sense of “oversharing with people you don’t know super well should be uncomfortable...if only the person in the cubicle beside me would learn that.”  It’s mostly just weird.  So there’s no need for obligatory comforting comments.  It’s cool.  I talk to my parents every few months in a civil fashion, once a month if I’m unlucky.  And it’s not anything to brag about, but there are boundaries in place and I’m good.  So kind of a happy outcome.  

But yeah, that’s why I started writing.  It was that or kill real people.  

*insert serial killer joke because I'm too tired*

[tarysande]

I'm not sure if this all really makes sense, but I'm trying really hard to participate in nanowrimo this year, because I've been trying to write this story for forever. The problem is is that I always feel like everything I write is stupid and terrible. I've been made fun of my entire life for my little stories I come up with, and so I'm too self conscious to ever ask anyone for their opinion of my writing. I feel like the few I DO ask are just pandering to me. Do you have any advice?

First, it sounds like you need a hug. 

*hug*

Second, I can’t speak to your abilities personally, obviously, because I don’t know who you are, but I can guarantee you that every single writer in the world (or at least a significant number, both published and aspiring) has that voice of doubt in their head at least some of the time. I know I do. Writing is weird. It is simultaneously very personal and very public. It’s a weird mix of ego and terror (”Use your time to read my thing! Omg, maybe the thing is horrible!” Sound familiar?). Of course, it’s hard to put yourself out there. It sounds like you’ve had a particularly rough go, with people making fun of you and disparaging what you do.

Look, those people are jerks. I’m sorry to say it, but there are a lot of jerks out there. Who knows why they’re picking on you, but they are. Maybe they’re jealous because they can’t think up stories on their own. Maybe they’re sad and lashing out because they want other people to feel as sad as they do. Maybe they’re just the kind of jerks who pull wings off flies for fun. The thing is, those jerks? Their stuff is not about you, not really. People who pick on other people are doing it because of their own issues.

Unfortunately, there’s a bit of that in the way our own brains pick on us, too. When you feel like everything you write is stupid and terrible, I suspect there’s other stuff happening under the surface. 

For me, that voice comes out of things like: am I just being a showoff? Why do I think I’m so smart/clever/talented/funny? Look at how other people have already succeeded and I’m just a big lump who can’t put my money where my mouth is. Who do I think I am anyway? Everything is trite or overdone or melodramatic or recycled and why do I even bother?? Ugh, I’m so arrogant and demanding and and and and…

Most of that’s not really about writing. Not really. It’s about growing up an overachiever who got a lot of praise, but, as an adult, isn’t sure that praise was warranted or is afraid that praise was wasted and isn’t going to amount to anything. Weird psychological crap. Brains, man. Can’t live with ‘em, can’t live without ‘em.

Look, you wrote some nice clean sentences up there. In the short span of a tumblr ask, you told me a little story. You did! And it made me feel feelings and want to engage with you. And that’s what writing is. Telling stories that engage you (first and foremost) and others. What I’m saying is that I am almost certain, based on one little tumblr ask, that your writing is most definitely not “stupid and terrible.”

(This got real long, whoops!)

Third, and this is a big piece of advice that’s really hard to take, I know: first drafts aren’t about other people. NaNoWriMo is about ugly, messy, blobby, half-formed, half-useless writing full of filler and hopefully some stuff you’ll be able to salvage when it comes time to write a less rushed, more cohesive draft. Trying to write something beautiful (or, frankly, even readable) during NaNo is step one in a recipe for disaster. Writing fast is great to get around the voice in your head (”I CAN’T HEAR YOU OVER THE SOUND OF MY FINGERS HITTING THE KEYBOARD YOU JERRRRRRK!!!!”) but it’s not great for crafting stuff you want other eyeballs on.

This is the lonely part of writing. And, I think, the part that’s hardest for people used to fanfiction to really get. With fanfic, there’s instant feedback. I write, I post, I write again! (Hopefully with some acknowledgment from your readers in there somewhere.) Writing blobby, ugly, NaNo first drafts is pretty solitary. I mean, say you’re having a baby, right? Would you want people to judge the cuteness (or smartness or funniness) of your baby by looking at the fetus still growing? Of course not! Do you judge the scent or beauty of a flower by its hard little brown seed? Of course not!

NaNo is for planting seeds. Or growing fetuses, I guess. You gotta give that some time before you’re like LOOK AT THIS BABY/FLOWER I GREW. That ultrasound or sprout is just NOT gonna be as interesting for anyone who isn’t you right now.

(Sidebar: don’t get too hung up on NaNo. You’ll make yourself crazy. Numbers are good and progress is good but any words you write are words you didn’t have before. Good job!! Feel proud!!)

Okay, final thing: you need to dig at the root of why you think the people whose opinions you ask for are pandering to you. I mean, it’s unlikely that they are. This is the weird thing: a lot of times we assume people saying nice things are pandering, or exaggerating, or just trying to make us feel better because the voice in our head is saying YOU SUCK YOU’RE TERRIBLE but… they’re probably not. I mean, how often has someone said something just a teeny tiny bit like criticism and we remember it for a thousand years in exquisite detail? All the time, right? We never question mean things or critical things: we assume they must be true because those comments align with that crappy downer voice in our heads. 

Well. Guess what? It’s more likely that the crappy downer voice is a liar than ALL THE PEOPLE who’ve ever said a nice thing or offered a compliment. You know how I know this? Because that crappy downer voice is catastrophic. It’s black and white. It’s extremes. It’s THE END OF THE WORLD IS NIGH!!! on a sandwich board.

Thoughts worth listening to–real thoughts from real people, including the kinder version of your own self–aren’t extreme like that. They aren’t catastrophic.

So, here’s the deal. The next time you hear something, good or bad, about your writing, either from someone else or your own brain, stop. I mean it. Stop. Write it down.

You’re awfully arrogant for a showoffy failure.

Okay. All right.

Then think: Does this sound like something my best friend (or someone who loves you, real or imaginary) would say? Or does this sound like something the sandwich-board-THE END IS NIGH-guy would say?

If it doesn’t sound like your best friend, take a pen, cross it out, hard as you can, even if it rips the paper. Say, “F-you you horrible sandwich-board jerk!! YOU ARE THE WORST AND I DON’T WANT YOU AROUND HERE ANYMORE.”

Then, write something your best friend would say. Actually write it down. Force your hand to write kind words. Surround it with hearts and stars. Really think about it. Really read them. ADD MORE HEARTS. Your best friend would want you to.

And go back to your story because you are the only one who can tell it. The only person in the whole damn world who can tell it. 

It’s a big job, but someone’s got to do it, right?

Better be you.

Okay, wait, one more quick thing before I go. When you do work up the courage to show someone your writing, you can absolutely say, “Hey, I’d love to get your opinion but this is basically a newborn baby, so I can’t handle too much criticism right now. I just want to know if you think the story makes sense, or if it flows, or if the characters are working, etc etc etc.” Heck, you can even say, “I’m not ready for the bad news, doc, so please, just the good for right now.” That is totally okay. And if your potential reader says, “Oh man, I don’t know if I can edit myself right now, because I am just reallllly into constructive criticism!” you can say, “Okie dokie, maybe you can read a later draft.” That is fine too. Take care of yourself first.

Now. Deep breath. It’s okay. You’re okay. Fear and doubt and terror is all part of writing. Wanting to write, feeling like you have a story to tell? That’s half the battle. Asking for advice? Huge step. I believe in you. (You can write that on your piece of paper and surround it with hearts, if you want.)

[badcharacterization]

A Court of Mist and Fury

This book has appeared on so many “Best of 2016″ lists, and after reading it I wonder how many 2016 releases these people actually read... Strap yourselves in, kiddos, this is like 8 pages of rage in the original Word document. Unpopular opinions under the cut.

Note: I originally took these down as notes on my phone, I’ve edited for clarity and punctuation and stuff, but not everything is properly capitalized because this book has taken enough of my precious time already. I did something similar with ACOTAR, and will probably post that one later (it is on goodreads though). I should have cited page numbers but that would have taken forever so you’re just going to have to guess from context clues.

-time skip time skip

-the mating bond sounds super yucky

-is this foreshadowing, is Ianthe going to steal Feyre’s shitty man?

-look at them sweet gender roles

-“inherent female magic.” no thank you bro

-Feyre is straight up depressed…and it’s actually depicted well…whoa

-I’m already tired of male this and female that though. We gotta make sure that everyone knows that the Fae are “primal” and “animalistic”

-and everyone is super duper straight apparently?

-so basically Amarantha was faerie Hitler? Just in case you didn’t already think she was super evil. There’s still no explanation of why she was so twisted, and I don’t expect the author will ever give one.

-I smell some vaguely Middle Eastern cultural appropriation

-also Feyre hasn’t learned to read after months in the spring court?

-Amarantha banned holidays, like the White Witch. How original.

-Rhysand suddenly has Feyre’s best interests at heart. He must have an identical, nicer twin.

-I’m still not over him drugging her and forcing her into skimpy outfits. That will never be okay to me, no matter how nice to her he is

-let’s have some more foreshadowing about Ianthe. It’s a little not subtle and barely qualifies as foreshadowing

-I know Feyre is depressed but she is passive in an out-of-character way. She used to disobey Tamlin pretty much reflexively.

-what did Feyre think Tamlin did for income? Of course it’s egregious taxes on all his subjects

-it’s almost like the author realized that ACOTAR had problems at some point and is trying to correct them all. She apparently doesn’t really plan or outline any of her books

-it feels like Tamlin has even less self control in this book than the last one, though it was always pretty bad. The author/narrator acts like this is a significant change and a sign of how what happened has traumatized him but it…isn’t? He was always physically intimidating her and manipulating her.

-I appreciate the author acknowledging that Tamlin is an abusive overprotective jerk, but Rhysand has issues too and he hasn’t really apologized or made amends at this point

-I didn’t expect Tamlin to want a domestic wifey but I guess this is a fae thing or an “omg look how evil he is now” thing

-have some awkward writing

-it is kind of a relief when she leaves the Spring Court, mostly because nothing interesting seems to happen there and it’s all a lot of foreshadowing about Ianthe, and Feyre being surrounded by courtiers with no bearing on what happens

-the introduction of Azriel, Cassian, and Amren is kind of…fanfiction-y. There’s something about the dialogue and how you can tell them all apart in an instant that feels like it was once part of a fanfiction.

-if Velaris is so famous for art and has so many artists and its location is supposedly secret…then who’s buying the shit?

-also where are the farms

-if a girl notices a guy’s scent, it’s done.

-have some more pretty fae dudes, as if there weren’t enough already

-I don’t think the Illyrians were supposed to be POC but their portrayal as warlike, women-abusing brutes is still kinda not nuanced. The name also refers to a historical region and people in the real world so…that’s not great

-Also the mating bond seems to be purely sexual, judging by the case of Rhysand’s parents. It’s actually kind of horrifying, the idea of becoming magically bound to someone you’ve just met and may come to hate in time. Why is it so desirable? Does it usually work out fine? What happens when one partner is already married or spoken for?

-Also it’s creepy as per the usual

-Also obvious foreshadowing lol

-Also a great excuse not to properly develop a relationship

-Time to bash Feyre’s disabled father again

-Ellipses everywhere

-“You needed not to be alone.” How about you quit telling her what she needs mmmkay?

-This sentence made me gag a bit, so I’m sharing it: “the voice was at once the night and the dawn and the stars and the earth, and every inch of my body calmed at the primal dominance in it.”

-And she’s using her pet word, primal, again

-There are flushing toilets in what seemed to be a medieval shit-land…okay

-At least this relationship is being built up better, but I still can’t get over the forced drugged striptease shit

-Amren’s back story is cool

-“Deadly bit of flirtation” Feyre needs to stop being so melodramatic, he was just flirting

-The Weaver is exactly the kind of weird, creepy faerie I’ve wanted to see in this series.

-Barbecue is an odd choice of words

-Rhysand feels more like her tough life coach than a potential love interest right now.

-Why is Feyre acting like Ianthe approaching Rhysand for sex was some unforgivable assault, when he had the power to make it stop immediately? It’s not even comparable to Amarantha.

-And how could Ianthe theoretically force herself on Lucien when males seem to hold more power than females in the Spring Court? Are priestesses an exception? Are there rules about turning them down? Does she enjoy some kind of special status?

-Foreshadowing about Ianthe and Tamlin again

-It’s almost like…Ianthe was behaving like literally every male character in this goddamn series. “The ownership and arrogance in that gesture” hmmmmmm…that sounds familiar

-Double standard time: Sexually aggressive men are just alpha males, sexually aggressive women are eeeeeevil

-Feyre complains that being rich and a woman in the human world is restricting but it seemed like she had a lot of freedoms when she went back and her father had his fortune back. Also, when she was poor. Someone had to know she was sleeping with that Isaac guy. Nesta certainly did.

-Almost forgot about the female mercenary, too

-Also apparently there are queens who are in charge in the human lands, though it was only mentioned in this book?

-The whole  humans not having holidays thing is still dumb. They would have created new ones after disavowing fae ones. Whenever people abandon an ideology en masse, something usually crops up to fill the psychological void.

-time to reminisce about how shitty Feyre’s human life was

-It’s not like Feyre’s sisters were also kids when they lost their mother and their fortunes fell or anything

-Cassian and Nesta’s hate thing is a little exaggerated; the ship is almost too obvious. “Look, they’re acting like they hate each other” is a sloppy shortcut to “they have sexual tension and they’re going to end up in a relationship.” Because the author doesn’t want to spend too much time fleshing out any of the other relationships in this damn book

-If Amren ends up being a villain, too, I’m gonna lose my shit.

-Feyre’s human life sucked guys, remember? REMEMBER??? ISN’T SHE SO MUCH BETTER OFF IN DOUCHEY MISOGYNIST FAERIELAND???

-There’s an unnamed brown faerie…such diversity. Much wow

-The food is so good and spicy and shit it’s somehow curing her depression a bit…okay

-Feyre pays a lot of attention to Azriel. Begins to feel weird after the first couple of times

-“Yeah, Rhys, thanks for making me dance like a stripper, but the magical disembodied music was great”

-I almost like Cassian now. Almost

-Unless Ianthe is secretly super powerful I think Lucien doesn’t have to worry about her “preying” on him. Chill.

-So Rhysand and Feyre are basically texting…okay

-Rhysand is petty as shit about Tarquin: “I know we’re not in an actual relationship or anything…but I’m mad because you smiled at him.” All the men in this series need to chill

-Varian and Amren makes no sense. It just crops up out of the blue…and is…a thing

-The language around attraction is interesting and gendered. Men are “predatory” when they’re interested in a woman. He gets “lethal focus” on her. Which leaves me wondering…does he want to fuck her or eat her? I honestly can’t tell.

-What does “tattooed panes of his chest” even mean? His chest is a window?

-Have a very vague description of Rhysand’s room

-SJM always writes romances where the characters instantly click or feel attraction, and the only thing keeping them apart is stubbornness

-This part feels like a draft, it’s a summary of Feyre’s training and interactions with Mor, and I actually want to see what that’s like. Mor was supposed to be a less manipulative replacement for Ianthe, but we hardly get to see her interactions with Feyre

-The way Feyre is dressed, she’s basically being presented as Rhys’s partner and she doesn’t seem to mind? Unless Mor gets a crown, too, and the author just neglected to mention it

-So two of the queens are married to each other? Yay! Background token LGBT characters

-How do the mortal lands even work, politically? Two of the queens can be married to one another and not have to worry about producing heirs? Why so many queens? Do they rule together or each govern different kingdoms?

-Most of the queens get a sentence or two of description, but then SJM goes on and on about the beautiful one and treats her as the most important woman in the group

-Also all beautiful women hate each other at first sight y’all

-I thought she only picked Mor’s name because she thought it sounded cool but she’s actually (clumsily) referencing Irish mythology

-So humans and fae can interbreed, like in the Throne of Glass series

-“The Black Land” seems like the author gave up on names. It also resembles the name for Ancient Egypt, and the description of its history confirms that

-Also what is with all the evil faerie queens running around? How can someone be much worse than Ms. Tortures-Everyone, Amarantha?

-If the queens know of the Veritas but have never actually laid eyes on it, how would they know it shows the truth?

-Okay, let’s have entire pages all about the sex lives of Illyrians. Thanks, Sarah, I really needed to know that

-Of course sex stuff is more thought out than anything with the politics, magic system…or like anything else

-Okay, obviously Rhysand is someone she likes now, why is flirting with him still “lethal” and “dangerous”? Is she afraid of Tamlin’s reaction?

-…how would wings make for interesting sex positions? Maybe my imagination is just lacking but…why

-the description of the court of nightmares is super vague

-It feels like YA female protagonists always have to have a female friend or servant who’s more into clothes and makeup to dress them. It’s almost like a main character can’t actually be invested in girly things

-I think this scene is meant to show how much things have changed since Rhysand forced Feyre to dance like a stripper and drink drugged wine Under the Mountain, because now he asked her permission before including her in his schemes…but it rings hollow for me. This romance doesn’t work unless you ignore everything from book 1

-“That primal, male rage” you just gotta gender everything

-also really convenient that the author gets to attribute everything awful Rhysand has ever done to his “mask” or persona as a high lord

-Yeah let’s keep woobifying him and brining up how awful Amarantha was. It makes him look better…if you don’t think about it too hard

-The Starfall scene is kinda vague and doesn’t do much narratively, just like the solstice scene in book 1.

-LOOK LADIES RHYSAD IS A FEMINIST!!! DOESN’T THAT CANCEL OUT EVERYTHING BAD HE’S EVER DONE?!??!?!?

-So the Illyrian blood rite is basically faerie Hunger Games.

-So Rhysand is not only the most powerful high lord alive, but he’s also the most powerful of all time?

-Feyre’s description of him fingering her is ridiculous. “Every point in my body, my mind, my soul, narrowed to the feeling of his fingers…”

-Why does it seem like SJM has a thing for whipping? Also why are they whipping him? Torture for information? Just to show that they’re a bunch of irredeemably evil dicks?

-This isn’t a YA novel. It just isn’t.

-I sense some drama over the whole “you knew we were mates all along” thing

-Yep

-How is this the most important thing in a fae’s life though?

-Feyre has every right to be mad at him, and confused and shit. Jeesh.

-So the mating bond involves the female offering food to the male…gender roles galore

-If he felt the mating bond when she was human, does that mean that high fae can bond with humans, or that she was meant to change?

-So the faeries who tried to assault Feyre on Calanmai are called “Picts”…that’s an actual historical people, just like Illyrians. Kinda icky, even if no one really identifies with those names anymore

-Her descriptions of orgasms are always ridiculous

-“A slow, satisfied male smile” WE GET IT SARAH HE’S MALE JESUS CHRIST

-They sexed so hard they caused an avalanche? The fuck?

-What’s with all the roaring

-Another “male” smile. This is my least favorite phrase

-Post mating bond behavior is not cute. He wants to fight any “male” who looks at or comments on Feyre, including Cassian, who’s just a little shit

-“Feral” returns

-The mating bond makes them act like animals in heat and FEYRE CAN’T SO MUCH AS GLANCE AT ANOTHER MALE WITHOUT RHYS REACTING? HOW IS THIS DESIRABLE?

-And, sure, he’s fighting it, but this is still being presented as a model relationship?

-“Purr” has returned

-oh no the human queens are such awful bitches for not trusting the people who historically screwed humans over a bunch.

-The description of what happens and what Mor looks like when she holds the Veritas is kind of vague

-It’s understandable and logical for the queens to suspect manipulation, the only really bad thing about them is that they’re willing to abandon the humans on Prythian

-Lemme guess, Nesta and Cassian are mates, too? Isn’t it supposed to be super rare?

-So the beautiful young queen is nice after all. Beauty=goodness, kiddos

-How does Feyre know that the other queens betrayed them? The info could have been tortured out of them and they could be dumping the other bodies all over the city for all she knows? It seems like she’s leaping to conclusions [note: she ends up being right, of course]

-How can Feyre see Amren? Are they that close to each other? Cassian and Azriel are airborne but it sounds like city streets are between Feyre and Amren and buildings should be obstructing the view

-Sometimes SJM tries too hard to be a serious writer

-The fight is pretty cool, it just feels a little too effortless and efficient. It’s also frustrating that Feyre has had this vast power and hasn’t really used it much in combat until now

-her skill is made a little more believable by the fact that she doesn’t have a lot of precision, just raw power.

-Rhys is respecting her autonomy! Let’s just forget about book 1 completely

-So…the ring retrieval was a test to determine if she was strong enough to be his mate, too…not a douche move at all

-So convenient that all of the Hybern soldiers/underlings are sadistic creeps, it means the mains don’t have to regret killing them

-Jurian is described as tan, like many of the other characters in the book. But it just makes me think they’re meant to be white people with tans.

-The King of Hybern has no name and is also described as “blandly handsome” like a man in his 40s…wait I thought all fae are super beautiful and look young?

-So…literally all the faeries in Hybern’s court are dead-eyed and evil and there’s no art or furniture. That sounds fake…but okay.

-Just in case you didn’t understand that Tamlin isn’t just a bad person, now he’s super evil and possessive…oh wait he always was

-He actually has a point about Rhysand, how can you ever fully trust someone who could possibly mess with your mind?

-Also kind of messed up how two of the evil humans queens are like the only queer characters in the goddamn books so far

-why would the queens buy the idea that the king of Hybern is on their side? He wants to bring down the wall, unless he somehow hid that part from them

-it’s baaaaad for women to want power and eternal life. They can only have it if men give it to them

-Speaking of which, IANTHE IS EVIL GUYS! WHO SAW THIS COMING???

-So Hybern and Ianthe’s plan is to overthrow the high lords and let the priestesses rule. I know they’re supposed to be corrupt or whatever, even though there’s not any concrete evidence of this, but how is overthrowing the high lords a bad thing?

-While the twist with Nesta and Elain has interesting potential, Nesta and Cassian being mates is boring

-And super obvious

-Weird that Feyre suddenly thinks of her father, out of the blue, after weeks of not giving a fuck about him, when Elain is changed. Also prioritizing men’s feelings…again

-King of Hybern made a creepy comment about Mor and then forgot her, very cartoonish

-THIS SCENE IS DRAMATIC ENOUGH!!! Why add the Elain/Lucien mates reveal? Jeesh

-Gotta demonize that young ambitious queen for looking at fae men

-Sudden convenient powers

-And now a sudden chapter from Rhysand’s POV

-So Amren says mating bonds can’t be broken, but I’d be more interested in the story if it was in fact breakable and if Feyre and Rhysand would have to decide to live and love without it. This book treats it like the end-all-be-all though

-Awww Amren cares about Feyre after all

-Rhysand’s narrative voice sounds like Feyre’s, where I would expect him to sound very different

-GUYS RHYSAND MADE FEYRE HIS HIGH LADY DOESN’T THAT MAKE HIM THE BEST FEMSINIST EVER?!?!? WOMEN CAN STILL ONLY DERIVE POWER FROM MEN IN THIS UNIVERSE…BUT RHYSAND IS A SEXY FEMININST

-this is treated like a plot twist and I wish the scene had actually been shown…although that would only make this godforsaken book even longer.

-Aaaaand it’s totally confirmed after like two pages that the mating bond isn’t broken…just kill the drama and tension…just murder it

-Lucien is obviously suspicious of Feyre

Final thoughts

-Tamlin allying with Hybern comes off as stupid, not evil. Granted, he did not seem all that intelligent in ACOTAR, but you would expect someone who’s lived for centuries to be a bit savvier. He had to have heard of what Hybern was all about

-Women are constantly defined by their relationships with men. Like apparently the mating bond existed when Feyre was still human and Rhysand sent her visions of the night sky to comfort her and she painted it on her dresser drawer. It’s a minor thing but it just keeps coming up

-Feyre just kinda lacks agency in general. It’s supposed to be this cool, “she’s learning how to fight and defend herself” plot in the middle of the book, but Rhysand determines her goals, and his wants and needs drive the plot more than hers. It gets worse after the mating bond sets in.

-Also Ianthe is the only female character who does not have a devoted relationship with one man and she is demonized for keeping herself independent and sleeping around. Mor also isn’t in an established relationship, but it’s obvious that the author is hinting at her and Azriel being a potential couple.

-I would like to see Cassian cope with a disability, one that makes him worthless in the eyes of his culture…but I know that shit is getting cured ASAP, of course after milking it for a bit of melodrama and man feels. Like, there is no way he’ll actually have to go without his wings

-Ianthe’s betrayal of Feyre’s sisters lacks a real punch. Even when Feyre implicitly trusted her, she obviously didn’t like Ianthe much and her sinister intentions were heavily foreshadowed. If that relationship had actually been established as a strong friendship, the betrayal would seem like much more of a betrayal. Instead, it’s kind of like “Oh no, I knew there was a reason I didn’t like her all along.”

-This book seems to call into question the idea that the high fae are superior to and different from lesser faeries, especially if Illyrians can interbreed with high fae. This still doesn’t indicate where things like the Suriel and the Weaver fit in the hierarchy. It’s implied that both are more powerful than individual high fae, though it seems that the Suriel is pretty easily deceived and captured. The world building doesn’t make any sense if you question it too much

-The whole “lesser faeries deserve better” message that crops up once or twice, in between all the feels and sex, also rings hollow because pretty much all lesser fae so far have been demonized or portrayed in a negative light. The Picts, the Naga, the Attor and his dudes, etc.

-If Rhys is so awesome, why let the Court of Nightmares keep existing in its current state? Especially if he supposedly cares about Mor so much?

-In that scene where Feyre is watching her sisters get dunked into the cauldron, it all feels very detached. She’s watching Cassian and Lucien’s reactions, when I feel like she should be very narrowly focused on her sisters and what’s happening to them. The author doesn’t fully commit to the first person POV, because she wants to make it very, very super obvious to the audience that Cassian is Nesta’s mate and Lucien is Elain’s, but it makes the scene lack something emotionally. First person gives you the ability to make the narration emotional and immediate, but that comes at certain costs. One character can’t see or notice everything you want them to.

-Also she’s just always got to prioritize male feels over female suffering. OH LOOK SOMETHING HORRIBLE IS HAPPENING TO A WOMAN AND OH NO A MAN IS REALLY REALLY SAD AND ANGSTY ABOUT IT LET’S FOCUS ON HIM INSTEAD

-The author just seems to care more about men than women, in all honesty, and this is part of the reason I can’t just escape into this world or consider this book even a guilty pleasure. The Throne of Glass books were starting to get this way, too, especially because she keeps killing off the girls of color in that series.

-And basically any woman who’s greedy or doesn’t derive her power from a man is demonized. Especially if they’re sexually active or aggressive in their pursuit of the men they want. Rhysand’s behavior in ACOTAR was even worse than Ianthe’s, it’s such a double standard and it’s laughable that anyone would call these books feminist. There is nothing in Ianthe’s actions to imply that she is violating any of the men she’s pursued. She’s pushy, shady, and needs to learn when to back off, sure, but it’s not like she’s assaulting anyone. Especially when the men she’s gone after are obviously way more powerful than her (Lucien, too, is obviously the heir of the Autumn Court, even if he enjoys lower status in the Spring Court).

-I’m still not over the idea that getting rid of the High Lords would not be bad. Like, Rhysand and Feyre both agreed that the current social system is stultified and deeply unfair to “females” and “lesser faeries”? How is the idea itself so bad and repulsive to them? They react with disgust and shock when Hybern brings it up

-I feel like pretty much every character is more interesting than Rhysand, with the possible exception of Tamlin. This may be mostly because I feel that they have potential and that the author hasn’t written enough about any of them and hasn’t had the chance to ruin them or waste their potential (like Manon in Throne of Glass). She just tries way too hard to make Rhysand seem sympathetic and loveable after all of the questionable things he did in book 1. And it shows.

-Come to think of it, it’s super strange that the Night Court lands are so neatly divided into “sadistic shitty assholes” in the Court of Nightmares and “peaceful artsy people” in Velaris. Like, what nation has ever been like that? People aren’t either irredeemable dicks or good people, every place has a mix of people.

-Amren feels like the kind of character I would love with a different author, but is barely developed. Same with the rest of the inner circle: Azriel is too much of a cipher to really make me care, Cassian is kinda all over the place, and Mor is built up as this amazing female role model who’s been through so much and has great inner strength…but then the author barely pays attention to her. Basically, the author cares about her self insert and her perfect love interest, and everyone else is just set dressing.

-The King of Hybern is so boring, and is just like the King of Adarlan in Throne of Glass. The comparison is even more obvious because neither of them ever receives an actual name.

-There were some moments where ACOTAR was well written/compelling, however fleeting. There were also spots that showed some potential. There are more of those in this book, but as more of the world is revealed, it becomes clear that it’s all built on heteronormativity and a rigid view of gender and gender roles. The magic system is poorly developed, the politics and geography is poorly established, and the plot limps. Instead of tightening these things up, the author chooses to focus on romance and sex, pausing frequently to allow the main characters to have sexual tension, going on for pages about the sex lives of her winged fetish-boys, and demonizing anyone who stands in the protagonists’ way. This story isn’t really about the looming war, it’s about two people falling in love and having a bunch of sex. All of the other stuff is just stuff she needs to put down on the page so she can get back to describing male abs and sex scenes. That’s not to say that this is a bad thing, but I expect more plot, world building, and character development out of something that’s labeled as “fantasy” and about 600 pages long. And the romance just doesn’t work for me. Too much brooding and woobifying, the bond is just boring and too convenient.

-There were a few times I almost quit this book, but about midway through I started hearing about what a shitfest ACOWAR is and that motivated me to finish, because I love a good shitfest, if I’m in the right mood.