#it's a flawed process

[melodyofthevoid]

Hello! Recently found out about your Ocean Idiots stuff and fell in love with the writing and animatics, was just curious to know, where did you find all the wonderful people you made this stuff with? I've always wanted to do something of the sort for fun but it always fell short

I'll be honest anon I got lucky as hell. My journey on Tumblr/Discord led me to meeting a lot of really rad people, so I guess my advice is to be genuine? Leave nice comments/tags, send asks, join discord servers and be active, etc.

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

*peering down at my own genetic sequence* uh-huh uh-huh bold choice bold fucking choices my friend

[ziggy-scardust]

Okay but. A Bradley Bradshaw who truly doesn’t know until TGM that Maverick is a little unhinged. He “tried to be the father he lost”, tried to set a good example, didn’t exactly tell an impressionable kid about all the ways he earned his reputation. So for years, Rooster avoided any mention of Maverick and probably dismissed rumors about him pissing off Admirals as so much Navy scuttlebutt - after all, he never got kicked out, he made it to O6, and he’s at least known for being good at what he does. So he figures the stories he heard growing up, and the new ones he’s hearing, are exaggerated.

…until they’re shot down behind enemy lines and Maverick’s happily strolling onto a bombed-out enemy flight line to steal a whole aircraft in an unknown state of repair by taking off from a very short taxiway and is just expecting him to go along with it, like it’s the obvious thing to do.

Smash cut to Bradley running down a LONG list of batshit stories he’s heard about Maverick, trying to confirm what’s actually real, and having to mentally readjust his whole worldview (including realizing that Goose was equally batshit and egging him on from the backseat half the time.)

“This one has to be made up, right, you’d never take an admiral’s daughter on an unauthorized F/A-18 flight — wait what do you MEAN that was Penny from the bar??”

[lovesodeepandwideandwell]

Fills me with RAGE that the Trinity Santos thinkpieces are about "wow we hated her because she was a jerk and suspected our favorite white boy of stealing meds but she was RIGHT and that blew all our minds! Unpleasant women can be right too!" And not "wow this interesting character who builds fraught connections with half the people in this building and has a weird relationship with male authority was revealed to have been molested in a scene where she protects someone else from the same thing, what a complex heroine"

[jon-sedai]

ASOIAF discourse would be a lot more fun if we all realized that every single person who has been put in a position of leadership/rulership fails in one way or another. Jon and Dany failing is not an indictment on their abilities to lead or rule. They’re kids, they still have shit to figure out. Given “what was Aragorn’s tax policy”, I doubt GRRM will write a story that will feature the appearance of a most perfect ruler ever who will be a total success instead Jon and Dany who were tOtAl FlOpS. Especially if this person has no previous experience that has been detailed within the text itself. That’s not only antithetical to the series, but also not how you write a narrative.

[kishiar-la-orr]

not incredibly well-thought because i'm just typing down thoughts briefly but

to me, the first timeline is the slightly less fairy tale-like version. the second timeline can be called a fix-it, an everything-goes-right, a best case scenario, which needed a grand plot device in the form of yuder regressing in order to happen at all. there must be tons and tons of different versions of first timeline where some things go right, some things also go wrong, in different ways whether miniscule or catastrophic. its not the worst though. things could go even worse, im sure.

there's a lot of takes surrounding first timeline kishiar with differing points. (also, as you know, im a glazer). and after running through a lot of them, it just makes me think that personally, a novel so nuanced and with a lot of complex interpersonal and intrapersonal happenings like turning needs to be approached with good faith and compassion. in my experience, doing that helps maximize my enjoyment of it.

second timeline kishiar is a 'green flag ML', yes, but he can only run because first timeline kishiar walked. what is turning if not about love and humanity? and the thing about loving while being human is, love doesnt stay pure all the time. sometimes its twisted, sometimes its murky. sometimes even when the love is pure, the communication gets lost in the middle. love happens even when people have a lot of difficult situations in their lives or even when they think they're not in a good place to be loving other people. first timeline yuder was also still green and less mature than second timeline yuder, a lot less equipped in many ways. second timeline yuder himself also needed to mature a lot before he could properly begin a relationship with second timeline kishiar that's grounded in trust and the expression of genuine care.

so many factors are being taken into consideration when writing turning, i think. thats why it becomes such a beautiful piece of work that can touch the hearts of many people, with characters and storylines that resonate with a lot of the fans. i find that it's turning's biggest charm. first timeline kishiar isn't a perfect victim nor a perfect 'toxic ex-boyfriend'. he tried his best and his best still had repercussions that are less than ideal for the people he loved whom he left behind. of course, there's also the fact that the story is mostly written through the main character yuder's perspective. i think i enjoy turning the most when i can see it through this type of lens, trying to keep in mind where the characters are coming from and empathize with them and taking the novel (as all fictions are) as a lesson in humanity.

[bennetsbonnet]

If you want to turn Mr Darcy into an evil villain in order to make a point about how Elizabeth was really the superior of the two then maybe, just maybe, you don't actually like or respect Elizabeth Bennet all that much.

I mean, why else would you actually want her to end up with an 'ugly, conceited, rude, humourless snob'? Do you underestimate her intelligence to the point of thinking she would willingly end up with a man like that? Do you not believe her to be capable of choosing a suitable husband? Did you even read the book... or are you actually just frustrated by the reaction to certain adaptations?

Because with this interpretation in mind, Elizabeth might as well have ended up with Mr Collins...

[ronsenburg]

because I’m curious:

I’m primarily interested in your opinion as a reader (please answer the poll from that angle), but if you’re a writer and want to chime in on your experience writing from alternating POVs, that’s cool, too!

This could be alternating every chapter, every book, at seemingly random intervals… however you want to interpret it.

Explain in the tags, please!

[includedisco]

Again ladies and gentlemen of the fanfic-writing community, the perfect writer does not exist

I've been writing for 17 years since childhood, but I still;

post stories with typos I missed while editing,

get embarrassed as hell when I find typos in my posted stories

struggle to describe my characters' emotions

can't spell for shit

struggle with describing my characters' physical appearance

forget to describe the clothes my characters are wearing

overuse the words "said" and "softly"

seemingly forget that English is my first language when I'm writing

struggle with describing physical intimacy between my characters (kissing, smut)

etc.....

The list goes on. The point is that there is no perfect writer/artist. Whether beginner or a seasoned writer, they'll have flaws. Humans are imperfect and it's that imperfection which makes your writing unique.

Don't be too hard on yourself about the flaws in your writing. You can work on improving on them but don't let them kill your writing spirit or your ability to love your own writing.

Don't let the flaws in your writing discourage you from writing or enjoying your writing. I love and enjoy the hell out of writing my fanfics, and I've found a loving and loyal audience for my work despite that long ass list of shortcomings I just shared. You can do it too.

Imperfections are normal. It's okay. Your work still has value and it matters.

[opens-up-4-nobody]

For eggtober :-P

[rillils]

pairing: Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes rating: T wordcount: 1794 tags: pre-serum Steve, pre-serum Bucky, Meet Joe Black AU, mystery, identity porn-ish, supernatural elements, modern AU notes: written for the prompt N1 - Supernatural Fiction from my @wintershieldbingo card. I started working on the manip for laughs, which then became torture (😭), and I don't know what possessed me to also write a blurb to go with it, but here it is I guess? Also, it's probably kinda unintelligible if you've never watched the film 🥺 summary: One day, Steve Rogers meets a lovely young man at a diner, and his heart skips a beat. That night, the same young man turns up unexpectedly at a family dinner - but there's something eerily different about him. Like he's not even the same person at all.

*

There’s something unsettling about Jay Barnes. Something in the way his pale gray eyes take Steve in as though he could unravel all that Steve is, down to the well-worn fabric of his soul. Parcel him out into bundles of bones and flesh and sinews, and tell him from what ancient stars each of his parts came from: what breathless corner of the cosmos brewed the carbon, the iron, the calcium wrapped up in the milky spread of Steve’s skin, one thousand endless eons ago.

It sends a shiver down Steve’s spine.

Barnes was nothing like this when Steve first met him, all of twelve hours ago.

The man Steve accidentally spilled his coffee on, earlier today, was an easygoing guy with a smile like a movie star and a hint of a Brooklyn drawl coloring his effortless sweet talk, and Steve was all too glad to let himself be sweet-talked into accepting his number and promising he’d be there again tomorrow, same time, same place, same coffee order – and maybe a blueberry danish to share.

There was a warmth about him, easy and engaging, that made Steve feel at home with him almost instantly.

He was a friendly face then; but when Steve looks at him now, at that same dimpled chin, at the perfect bow of those same lips, all he sees is the face of a stranger.

The difference between the two is so jarring, he has to wonder if he didn’t step into a parallel universe by mistake, sometime between leaving work and walking in uncle Abe’s living room.

“The young man I met at the diner this morning. The one who introduced himself as Bucky,” Steve begins, quietly, when he and Barnes are alone in the library, and the filling warmth from dinner is starting to churn bitterly in the pit of his stomach. “He was sweet, and charming, and he lit up the room with his presence.” He wets his lips, swallows past the dryness in his throat. “I liked him, I don’t mind admitting to it. I would have loved to grab that coffee with him, one of these days.”

He pauses, watching Barnes’ expression carefully; drinking in every smooth, dispassionate line of it, as unnervingly blank as a clean slate.

Bucky’s eyes held so much life in them, he seemed to be bursting with it. His smile turned Steve’s knees into butter, and when he left that diner, winking at Steve on his way out, his number saved on Steve’s phone and Steve’s coffee staining the breast of his dress shirt, a grin on his lips like he’d just won the lottery, Steve’s blood sang so sweetly, he was sure he could have eaten up the whole world today.

But Barnes.

There’s a coldness to him – though not of the cruel sort. It’s more like– more like the quiet coldness of winter, deep, deep in the heart of January, on those early mornings when everything is coated in thick white snow, and the silence swallows up even the tiniest whisper of sound. He seems forged out of something that is both holy and hopelessly inhuman, something distant, alien, and the thought makes Steve’s arms prickle with goosebumps.

He can’t even fathom trying to reconcile one man with the other.

“Where is that young man now, Mr. Barnes?” he asks, unable to keep this eerie feeling at bay any longer. “‘Cause I see you wearing his face, but– it’s like I’m looking at an entirely different person tonight.”

A delicate frown forms above the bridge of Barnes’ nose. He shifts uncomfortably on his feet; the set of his shoulders sitting a little too stiffly, his arms held a little too awkwardly at his sides, like he’s never had to stand in front of anyone before.

“I’ve disappointed you,” Barnes says, his voice soft, gentle even. “I’m sorry.”

Steve shrugs his shoulder. He is disappointed, that much is true – he just thinks it’s rude of Barnes to acknowledge it out loud.

“I just want to know which one is the real you,” Steve says, looking Barnes sharply in the eye. “Is it the guy who flirted with me this morning and promised I would fall in love with him by the time I finished my pancakes? Or the mysterious, impassive businessman who appeared in my uncle’s life out of the blue, and acts as though he actually belongs in it?”

The crease on Barnes’ brow turns somewhat apologetic. He looks down at his freshly shined shoes for a moment, nearly shy, and clasps his hands behind his back.

“I’m afraid the man you see before you now is the one who will stick around,” he tells Steve softly, “for however long my business with your uncle will keep me in town – and in his house, and in his life.”

“Ah, your business with my uncle, of course, how could I forget,” Steve snaps, raking his fingers through his hair with an impatient gesture. “You know, I’ve been worried about him for a while now, because Abraham– he’s just the kind of guy who will take care of everyone else before he takes care of himself, right? And his health isn’t what it used to be, but you know what they say – doctors make the worst patients and all. So he keeps telling me that everything’s fine, really Steven, no need to fuss over him, he’s a grown man and he can look after himself just fine, thank you very much. And then you come along,” he adds, pointing an accusing finger in Barnes’ direction, “and suddenly there’s this secret business that nobody’s allowed to talk about, or ask about, or God forbid, even think about, and we’re all just supposed to ignore the tall dark and handsome elephant in the room.”

Unsurprisingly, Barnes remains silent, studying him with those pale eyes of his.

Steve can’t help the urge to turn away from them, looking around the room in search of a distraction from the emotions roiling unpleasantly in his stomach.

Uncle Abe’s library has always been a safe haven to Steve, ever since he was a little kid walking out of school with more black eyes and bloody noses than he cared to explain to his mother. Back in the day, curled up in Abe’s cozy wingback chair with a book spread over his lap, he could breathe in the familiar scent of old paper and dust and beeswax polish, and let the rest of the world fade away for a few blissful hours.

The room still smells the same – still cloaked in the vanilla sweetness of ripe yellowed pages, and beeswax to keep uncle Abe’s antique escritoire nice and shiny – but none of it seems able to soothe Steve now.

“Something just doesn’t add up here, you know?” he says, ignoring the prickly feeling of being watched so closely by Barnes. “Abe says that the two of you are old friends, but I’ve known him my entire life, and somehow he’s never once mentioned your name before. He says you’re only here to assist him with this obscure job of his, and yet you’ve got him hanging on your lips, and he seems to look for your approval for every single word that comes out of his mouth, which– it doesn’t– It doesn’t make sense! None of this makes any fucking sense.”

It's only the fine pinpricks of pain in the palms of his hands that make Steve realize how tightly he’s been clenching his fists. He tries to release the tension, but he can’t bring himself to do it. Not when he’s looking up in the fathomless depths of Barnes’ eyes. Not when the questions he really wants to ask are loaded right there on the tip of his tongue, ready to slip out.

“Why are you really here? Who are you, Mr. Barnes?”

There. That is the heart of it.

The silence that follows Steve’s words is so loud, it’s almost deafening.

Barnes steps closer, treading soundlessly on the rich Persian rug lining the wooden floor.

There’s something – something in the way he moves – something in the way he exists in his space, that makes the very air surrounding him feel charged, as if he commanded it; as if he were the one to give air a name, countless lifetimes ago. Even Time seems to move with him, to his own measured rhythm, each slow second waiting at Barnes’ fingertips.

His gaze feels heavy where it touches Steve’s skin, dense with the weight of gravity. Steve couldn’t look away if he tried.

“I’m just a traveler passing through,” Barnes says, in his soft, gentle voice. He’s standing so close enough for Steve to breathe him in.

Bucky had smelled like toothpaste and a hint of aftershave, and the rich aroma of fresh coffee wafting in from his mug.

Barnes smells like nothing at all.

Like the cold. Like the wind. Like the stretch of years and years between two points in time.

“For so long, I have watched the world rush past my window, without ever truly touching it,” Barnes continues, the soft gray of his irises gleaming as he drinks Steve in, unraveling him. (All that he is, Steve remembers. All that he’ll ever be.) “Today, I finally found it in me to step off the train and into the crowd, to taste this world I’ve only ever seen from afar. But now... I feel lost.”

He sounds so helpless, in that way that people are when they find themselves at the beginning or at the end of their life, lacking the strength to move in a body that doesn’t obey them yet – or anymore. It’s so terribly, painfully human, it makes the inside of Steve’s chest ache.

“Will you be my friend, Steven? For however long is given us to stand in the same crowd?”

Steve’s gaze falls on the bow of Barnes’ lips, the downturned corners of his mouth signaling his unhappiness. Twelve hours ago, those lips smiled at him like Steve was something special. Twelve hours ago, Steve watched the smile lines around Bucky’s mouth, and he wondered how sweet it’d be to kiss him, to be kissed by him – to meet him for breakfast every day at the same table, in the same old diner, and kiss him hello and goodbye, with the taste of coffee and blueberry danish on his tongue.

He wants those lips to smile again. Tonight. Tomorrow. For however long is given him.

“I guess I can do that,” Steve says, finally unfurling his fists. “I’ll be your friend, Mr. Barnes.”

When Barnes’ mouth curls up at the corners, the smile reaches his eyes, too.

[king-candybug-backup]

Oh my gosh, ANOTHER new chapter coming already!? Take some breaks dude!!! Genuine question, how do you write SO much SO fast and STILL have it feeling this high quality? Is there a method to your madness??? (Amazing work so far btw!)

WHEN I SAID CHAPTER 11 AND 12 WERE BEING MAJOR ROADBLOCKS, I MEANT IT LMFAO, NOW THAT I AM FREED FROM THOSE SHACKLES I AM ON ONE HELL OF A ROLL!!!

In all honesty, a lot of my “speed” actually comes down to laziness and lack of skill, lmao. Don’t get me wrong, I’m EXTREMELY happy people are enjoying the fic this much, but I do think there are some objective flaws with it that often get overlooked. And it’s not like that’s particularly BAD, it’s just fanfic and I’m doing this solely for fun lmao, but it isn’t quite what I’d consider “high-quality” to that extent. I’ve spoken before about having trouble with some technical stuff like consistent POV and describing scenery, but there’s some bigger issues, too.

For an example of what I mean, I straight-up gloss over scenes that are too difficult for me to write out in full. The part in chapter 4 of Vanellope telling Sugar Rush that King Candy was still alive and working with them was something that ABSOLUTELY should’ve been shown directly rather than something talked about after it had already happened. Same for Vanellope’s fight with Taffyta this latest chapter, it was 100% something that should’ve been its own scene, and I had planned for both of these to be their own scenes at the time, but I just straight-up could not get my brain to cooperate on how to write them. Types of scenes like that, ones that I know for a fact will give me major creative blocks in trying to figure them out, are ones that I usually choose to instead turn into narrative commentary explaining what happened rather than showing it. There’s not actually a whole lot of scenes that get this treatment, but there have been a good chunk of things that were supposed to happen a certain way, but I could not get it feeling right on paper, so I rework or disregard the scene and move on. It’s not a very good thing to do on a quality-assurance level, but I am not a professional writer and I refuse to hold myself to those standards when I’m doing this for fun and for free, lmao. (The only thing that’s important for me to handle more carefully/correctly is the NPD representation, since there’s such horrible stigma irl in the way people view it, but that part of writing is my bread and butter and NEVER gives me creative issues since it’s my main inspiration and I love writing it, so that’s not a problem in this particular situation.) So yeah, I think it would objectively make the fic better if I went into more depth regarding stuff like the political/emotional side of what’s going on for Sugar Rush’s citizens throughout this mess, but I personally don’t have fun trying to figure out how to do that well, and I’m doing this mainly for my own enjoyment, so that’s what I’m going to prioritize, lol. I enjoy writing King Candy and the core four’s shenanigans the most, so they are what gets my focus. I think the fic is still enjoyable enough even though I’m not fleshing out everything that I should be, so frankly I don’t really care about trying to make myself do that at the detriment of my own motivation, lol. Besides which, I know other people are enjoying the story regardless of the flaws I think it has, so it’s like, whatever, as long as everybody’s having fun, who really cares, anyway. 😂 (And btw I’m not saying that as if I think people shouldn’t be allowed to dislike the fic or how parts of it are handled lmfao, obviously that’s stupid and I’m straight-up in agreement that there are flaws with it, I’m just saying that I’m gonna stick with writing it exactly how I want to, even though I know there are things that could be way better if I sacrificed a lot more mental energy to follow through. I’m just deadass NOT willing to do that extra sacrifice, lmfao)

[redstonedust]

i keep thinking about the "belgian scam ring" conspiracy because it think it betrays a misunderstanding of how internet scams work.

like, the majority of scammers don't really spend their time carefully maintaining a story? they're often low effort by design. i got a series of spam emails recently telling me they'd recorded me masturbating through my webcam and i need to give them bitcoin or they'd send the footage to all my contacts. my webcam is never plugged in and i have no email contacts, i know that's bullshit, but it doesn't matter because i imagine they're sending that same email to a thousand people, and statistically at least one of them will fall for it. it's the same with the classic nigerian prince style emails, or the 'my cat is sick' posts from near-empty blogs with stolen photos. there's just not much point crafting a story to cover your ass when a half assed one will catch a few easy marks.

so seeing some users peddle the idea that the majority of palestinian gofundmes are fake and everyone who verifies them is actually in on it is like... farfetched? or at least it would be a logistical nightmare. i'm not gonna say high effort, organised scams have never existed, and i'm not gonna begrudge people for being cautious with their funds. but at some point the reality you have to construct is so convoluted that i can only assume it's just an excuse to avoid saying that you don't want to donate to people. and that's your choice, but at least be honest about it, because trying to discredit fundraisers based on flimsy evidence is doing tangible damage in the real world.

[e-adlirez]

So KPop Demon Hunters

SPOILERS BELOW THE CUT:

I love them your honor <3

[funeralprocessor]

I feel like the Primaris should have been the catalyst for like, an imperial civil war. At the very least, much unrest in the house of Guilliman. Their existence, let alone rollout/integration, should have had many chapters absolutely rioting. It should be beyond the pale by several orders of magnitude and be seen as an enormous overreach by the more autonomy loving chapters, a blasphemy by the more orthodox chapters, and an existential threat to chapters with geneseed quirks. Plus anyone with any awareness of the thunder warriors should take one look at them and recognize the writing on the wall. Guilliman should absolutely recognize what they represent, what they imply. Like they're the leading wave of a paradigm shift that doesn't bode well for what came before. And I say this as someone who's not averse to Primaris, I just think they could've, should've, been a waaaay bigger deal. I know they loathe changing the status quo and we're never getting rid of the posterboys but I think we missed out on something interesting.

[bbuzz28]

Fiddleford is a liar.

He contextualizes his lies as being for the greater good-but he still lies.

I think people sometimes overlook this trait. Outside of calling him a two timer on his wife (Emma-May, I would treat you so much better, run away with me), it’s all pretty much treated as a joke. "Silly little banjo playing Fiddleford who goes crazy by scrambling his brains like eggs in a skillet after a monster attack." It's a very convenient compartment to slide him into without digging much deeper.

However, I think it runs so much deeper than that. To lie so effortlessly and all the time, it takes practice. I think he has been lying probably for his entire life-so much so that he doesn't even consider it to be lying. The entire foundation on what he eventually builds his cult is "helping" the townsfolk by "protecting" them from the "terrible" truths that surround them in Gravity Falls.

Only a practiced liar would invent something like the memory gun. Because at the end of the day, when you are lying all the time, you are able to convince yourself of the lies for a little while-but not forever. (If you are not a narcissist, which of all the things Fiddleford is, he is not that.) You will wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat and remember what you did or what you are trying to cover up. The aspect of control over what at the time seemed controllable with a few false words now causing your heart to race, your breath to hitch, your head to ache. So, then you lie more, to cover up all the loose threads that would lead to what you've done. Eventually, you have dug a hole so deep, there is no end in sight.

The answer is simple-tell the truth, right? It would be the "right" thing to do...and it would shatter everyone's interpretation of you. Possibly dissolving any of the relationships you've built. Relinquishing control of the scenario you created. Because when you tell the truth, it turns into the "well, why would you do this?" conversation. Who wants to hear "because I wanted you to like me", "I didn't want to disappoint you", "I didn't want to make you angry" or "I wanted to be useful" in response? To see that look of utter disenchantment in their eyes as all your lies are revealed.

But....what if you could e r a s e the truth from your own memory? And not only your memory, but the memory of whomever you lied to. They would never have to know what you did. You would never have to face it. And you would never again be overcome with the feelings of inadequacies that triggered you to lie in the first place.

You wouldn't have to disappoint anyone, or yourself, ever again.

The Memory Gun started as a clever band aid to the trauma of the Gremloblin incident, yes. But it turned into something much more dangerous in the hands of an established and practiced liar.