#it's so much easier to just write it all out instead of trying to convey it through actions lol

[i-wiggle-i-squirm-bc-i-am-a-worm]

Chapter 2- Investigation (Pages 1 & 2)

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And so we start Ayla’s chapter! I really hope you guys enjoy what’s to come! Also, I’d like to say that I have an official update schedule: I’ll be updating every other Friday. Thank you again for all the support so far!!

[willowser]

now i wake up by your side—

bakugou x f!reader

wc: 2.8k+

tags: u.a. college au, canon-compliant, reader has a telekinesis/telepathic quirk, references (and potential spoilers) for the current arc in the manga, angst, a lot of secret hidden feelies

tysm to @alrightberries for giving me the opportunity to bring this lil thought of yours to life 🥺 your patience and understanding during the time it took me to write this is so appreciated it, and tbh you're the reason i'm even still here right now LOL you're so sweet, and i hold your kindness so close to my heart. i wish i could convey how much it means to me. i hope i did this even a lil justice !! happy birthday dear !!!! 🥺🩷✨️

Sero dreams of watching the sunrise on top of the Roppongi Observatory.

It’s a beautiful sight, one you’ve never seen with your own eyes, but you soak in the warmth flushing across his cheeks and the anticipated break of morning through the clouds. When he takes in a hefty breath, you feel the spring chill sting inside his chest, crisp and clear, like it’s you breathing instead of him, and it’s almost comforting enough to lull you to sleep, too.

But a clay pot shattering against a nearby bench has your eyes springing open, ripped from the haven you’d been lost to. 

You have to blink several times in order to fight through the exhaustion wearing you thin, but the evening returns to you in small, bleary doses. It’s the middle of the night—or at least it was when you’d first wandered out to the training field, and you can’t be sure how many hours have passed since then. Across the yard, you’ve successfully managed to carry four pots from the garden plot near the entrance all the way to your feet with your Quirk— but number five sits in pieces in the grass.

You’ll have to clean that up by morning or Eraser will make you run laps until you puke. Again.

Kirishima flits through your mind in a suit and tie: not as a Hero, but a spy of some kind, chasing down men with masks covering their faces and wielding a gun that looks odd in his hands, even in his own dream. Despite being back in the dorms, stories up and near the end of the hall, you can see it—hear him yelling out at the criminal to stop, feel the thud of the ground under his feet. His own determination blares through you like a freight train, as strong and damning as he is, and you fight to force yourself back inside your own shoes as you try to carry another pot.

Recovery Girl used to tell you that you did this to yourself: all your worry about losing sleep psyching yourself out of it completely, chasing it away before it even had the chance. When everyone is getting ready for bed, heading out of the common room and hitting the showers, you can feel that suspense building; what will come across tonight while everyone dreams? Fantasies? Or nightmares?

During the day it’s easier to drown out the foot-traffic of everyone’s thoughts—you do it without trying, now—but your brain needs rest, too. Letting go of control for even a second, just to get some shut eye is—

Something frightening is outlined in your peripheral vision, the dash of a pale shape you aren’t able to discern before it’s gone. The air turns metallic and stale and you can hear water sloshing, though you’re nowhere near the pools. All your blood rushes in your ears and your fingers curl, like you’re gripping your seat—gripping the edge of the couch in the common room, where you’d been sitting beside Mina when Kaminari put on that horror movie. The one with the—

“The hell are you doin’?”

Your eyes snap open for the hundredth time that night—show over, credits rolling—and it’s Bakugou. Standing only feet away from the new set of clay shards of your failure, tangible and real and staring at you with an intensity not even your dreams could mimic.

You blink, eyes stinging and heavy. You must look insane. “Oh, hey,” the voice that comes out of you is far-away, chartered off to distant lands, and he notices immediately, focus razor-sharp despite how late it is. “What did you say?”

Bakugou wrinkles his nose, like he’s offended at having to repeat himself. “I said, what the hell are you doin’? It’s nearly 2 in the morning and you’re out here throwin’ shit around in your fuckin’ pajamas.”

Almost on cue, the breeze brushes past your legs, chilly enough to have you shivering, and you peek down at them as if you don’t know what they look like. The sweater you’re wearing is from second year and the U.A. logo is half-worn off, but it’s the comfiest thing you own and if you’re going to be plagued all night by the forced intimacy of your classmates’ dreams—you at least want to be cozy.

When you look back up at him, Bakugou is pointedly looking away, taking interest in something other than your wimpy state of dress. 

It dawns on you then that he’s out here, too, in sweats and a simple back sweatshirt, hair a messy, golden halo in the pale, buzzing field lights. If you didn’t know any better, you’d almost think his face was a little rosy, but—maybe you’re seeing things.

Still. Being out and away from everyone, alone with Bakugou, makes your stomach tighten horribly. Like you’ve done too many sit-ups.

You try to brush off your sudden bout of shyness, because you know he’ll clock that in no time, too. “Well, I could ask you the same thing.” At the raise of your eyebrows, he only tchs, and casts you a filthy look. “But I think maybe I’ll just mind my own business.”

The face he makes is so awful and hot-blooded that you laugh, truly and earnestly, enough that a headache pulses to life. You wince, and the stream of pain that shoots down the middle of your skull brings back that image of Kirishima’s action-thriller: blood and knives, the sound of skin on skin, a fist against cheekbones, the ugly snap of breaking—

“Oi.”

Bakugou is closer than before, when you’re grounded back inside yourself. At least no pots have been broken this time. Less to clean up.

“Sorry,” you shoot him an apologetic smile that you know he must hate. “It’s just so—” your hand feels like it’s made of lead, but you drag it up to massage slow circles into your temple, trying not to grit your teeth and worsen the pounding in your head. “So loud sometimes.”

He’s silent until the pain ebbs out, and when you can blink without flinching, you peek up to catch how intently he’s watching your face. In the night like this, his eyelashes seem darker, longer, a kind of haunting beauty you would dream about, if you could get some sleep.

Again, you think of Kaminari’s horror movie, legs pressed against Mina’s under the heavy comforter she’d brought down from her room. It’s warm, the kind of pink, fluffy thing you’d imagine a girl like her to have—but it didn’t stop you from shivering every time you chanced a glance at Bakugou and found him already staring back.

The heat in your cheeks spreads to the back of your neck, so immediate that you think you might start sweating. “Dreams and stuff,” you murmur, by way of an explanation, “nightmares, sometimes.”

Bakugou's frown deepens, the muscle in his jaw tightening once as he grits his teeth. “What, you can just…hear that shit all night?”

“Usually,” you shrug, “It just comes in, you know? And I—” you steal another glance at him, aware, then, of just how intrusive you might sound. The veil of privacy is thin between you and others, and they don't often like being reminded of that. “Not for you, though. I don't—I don't get anything from you.”

And it's true, frustratingly enough. Not that you are ever intentionally peeking into anyone's head, but things slip through, occasionally—sudden reactions, wild, loose trains of thought. 

Bakugou's face twists, regardless, and you're reminded of all the times you've been forced to spar together, at Eraser's behest. One of the smartest in your class, quick on his feet and never without a plan; every time you've managed to get a hand on Bakugou, there's been nothing but a sea-shore calm.

It's hard to do and, at this point in your life, you've seen a thousand people try it—but he's the only one that's ever succeeded in keeping you at bay.

Nothing in his expression changes, but all your nerves spread to your voice until it shakes. “You're—I don't look in there, of course, but it's—you've always been…” Bakugou is terrible at taking compliments, you know that, almost as bad as you are at giving them. “Pretty, I guess.”

Awful, at giving them.

Embarrassment floods him, suddenly stained pink as he curls into himself. “Piss off,” he barks, and though he’s scowling at you in what must be disgust—you can’t help but to smile at how aggressively bashful he is.

You almost get the guts to make matters worse, just because you can. Admit how handsome you’ve come to find him, after the last few years, until his face is steaming in the sweet nighttime chill; the kind of intimacy you wouldn’t mind dreaming about again and again.

The absence of his thoughts are a comfort for your tired mind, has all the harsh edges of night fading into something a little easier to swallow, to breathe in. You know he does it on purpose as a strictly defensive move, but you almost want to thank him. For the quiet.

You don’t know if it’s from you or him, but when you reach a hand up to hover near his temple, the air buzzes between you, gently. Charged with that same thing that had you unable to look away from him in the common room only days ago. “In here, I mean,” you murmur, and the smile you pull on feels lame, but it’s as genuine as ever. “I don’t know, I don’t know how you do it. But it’s…nice.”

You’ve seen him die a thousand times.

Mostly in Midoriya’s dreams, sometimes in Eraser’s when he nods off during last period, but that horror—like many others, from that day—stains you all. When dinner is put away and showers are finished and the lights go out and the flood gates open, someone almost always relives the ugliness of it all; you’re more familiar with that moment than you are with any of your own.

Here and now, you close your eyes and see Jirou staring back at you, face beautiful and full of hope. You see Kirishima’s torn suit jacket and the blood on his cheek and the empty gun in his hand, the most dedicated secret agent. Aoyama is dreaming of his mother, something warm that makes you feel like you’re dazzling, too.

And yet—Bakugou is silent. Even right in front of you. Even after everything.

If anyone deserves the peace and quiet, you suppose it ought to be him.

“When’s the last time you got any sleep?”

You blink until his blurry figure is clear, and it’s like you can physically feel whatever energy you had left seeping from your body at the mere mention of sleep. “Maybe a morning or two ago,” you tell him truthfully, “I usually pass out after a few rounds of ‘throwin’ shit around’.”

Bakugou only stares at you as he digests the words, and once he’s gotten them down, he shakes his head before looking out over the mess you’ve made of the training field. With his head turned like this, you can take in the full weight of his scar—the one that’s wide and still baby-pink across his cheek. 

You almost get the guts to tell him he’s handsome. Almost.

Frustration is evident on his face when he looks back at you, but his voice comes out softer than you expect, like he's struggling to get out any words at all. “Can’t keep doin’ this,” he chastises. “Can’t be a Hero if you’re half asleep all the time. Gotta figure this shit out.”

“I am,” you give a lazy wave to your pots, “What’s wrong with this solution?”

“It's ass.”

“Alright, you have any better ideas, pretty boy?”

He bristles, visibly enough to have you snickering, and—you’re not sure what you expect of him; to continue his griping or leave you to your own devices, building his walls up high as he always does. Ever the fighter, ever the protector; maybe it’s a good thing, you tell yourself, because you’re weak like this and one of you needs to be thinking straight.

Despite his flush, there’s a playfulness to his grouchy expression, his raspy tone—and it has you leaning too far into things you don’t know how to name.

You never know what to expect of him.

There’s the slightest brush of skin against the back of your hand, and when you drop your eyes to the slowly-dwindling space between you—the rough pads of his fingers are touching you, gently. Softly enough to be the breeze, if it weren’t so warm.

You’re afraid to look at him, suddenly, like it will break whatever spell the night is casting over both of you; instead you press your lips together to stop their wobbling and the smile fighting to give you away. You’re waiting for that sea-shore calm, that quiet comfort, whatever it is he’s trying to offer you, strangely enough, in this moment. When you turn your hand over to catch his, the air buzzes again and the blood rushes in your ears.

You focus and—all you can see is your own face staring back at you. In a flash, like he’s cycling through his cards in a hurry, trying to find the best one.

You, across the arena during the entrance exam. You, in the locker room before the Sport's Festival. You, sitting in the common room during Christmas. You, ruined with tears and your own blood and covered in grime, on the darkest day of your life.

You, now. On the field in the stale light, prettier than you think you must look, for being so exhausted, the lines of your smile deep as you grin up at him.

—And then there's nothing.

The absence of noise is louder than anything. A stark, white silence that cuts through; a different world trickling away. A single touch and a little focus is all it takes to take root inside someone’s head and that’s always felt like a weapon, but now it feels like coming inside from a snowstorm, relief shuddering down your spine. Everyone else's fears and nerves and heartaches dissolve until they’re only a bitter taste at the back of your throat. Something far, far behind you

There’s just Bakugou. A strong silence that feels impenetrable, invulnerable to the outside. The steady beat of his heart is comforting in a way you didn’t realize it would be, has that bloody, dead-eyed image of him shifting into something else: another moment in Midoriya’s memories, of his silhouette standing in the sun, tall and fierce and alive.

Returned. Here and now with you, after numerous, unforeseen turns of events. You wonder if the ease surrounding you is his own, something else he’s sharing—or if this is just how it feels to be with him after so long. Maybe in the past it was different—you know it was; during the entrance exam, during the Sport’s Festival—but now you feel more relaxed than you ever have. A reminder that, no matter how dark the nights get, the sun is only just beyond the horizon. 

Returned, comforting and quiet.

(You won't know this until much later, but your hand will go slack in Katsuki's and his fingers will tighten around your own because he's not ready to let go yet. When your knees buckle, he'll already be there, awkwardly holding you up against his shoulder as his face flames and his eyes dart around the empty field, checking for any shitty snoops.

Ears is always up damn late, too, and there's a decent chance he'd get caught trying to haul you back to your room on the third fuckin’ floor, so there's really no better option than to gently lower you both to the grass. After a couple of minutes with no movement, the field lights will shut off and only the distant glow of the stars will remain.)

(You won't know this until much later, but Katsuki will arrange the both of you so that your head isn't slumped on the hard ground, but resting on the plush of his bicep, an arm around your shoulders so that the warmth can be shared between you both. His heart will pound hard enough in his chest to be worrisome, and every time you shuffle and scoot closer to him and nudge your nose into his sweater—Katsuki will fight to stay open and true, only honest with you in this wordless way.)

(You won't know this until the sun rises high behind your lids and your bones ache and he’s shown you things he could never say, but it's the best sleep you think you've ever gotten. With him, under the stars, surrounded by his calm and his constant.)

(You won't remember this but in your dream—your real dream, born from with solace Katsuki offers you—the morning will rise and settle in and he'll walk you back to your room despite the stares and in the elevator when you're alone, his lips will touch yours and you'll feel his  heart in your chest and his nerves in your stomach and his fear and relief all in one.)

(And right away, when you wake up, you'll finally have a name for this thing that's been blooming between you both for as long as you can remember—and he will, too.)

[wildflowerluver]

beautiful sound

derek morgan x fem!reader

derek doubts your ability on the team. his words hurt more than normal.

cw: case mentions, slight enemies to lovers, derek is kinda an asshole, quiet!reader, reader knows sign language, first kiss, she/her pronouns, bau reader, objectification of women, hotch defender

wc: 2.6k

༺♡༻

you’re quiet, you always have been. 

growing up, you sat on your hands, often not making a sound. 

it became routine, a habit. speaking became a bother. 

you learned to sign from an early age. although most didn’t know the language, it was comforting to have a second form of communication. 

when drafted into the bau, your quietness was never a problem; marked on your file actually. it proved to be an asset at times. you see people differently and when a case involves someone who struggles communicating, your skill set helps out.  

the team is sent for a case in san jose. 

you hate referring to it as standard but that's what it was, four women murdered with the same m.o.

once boarding the plane, you slide into a window seat in the group of four. derek clambers in after you. when hotch assigns you and spencer to victimology and the geographical profile, he bumps your arm. 

“was hoping i would get victimology with you for once instead of pretty boy.”

you blush. the comment is flirty enough to speed up your heart rate.

as much as you want to work with derek, you like working with spencer. the two of you work well together and he knows how to sign. makes it a lot easier than writing information down to convey to the others. 

though the case is standard, it takes three days to get a lead.

no one takes a break. between another body being found in that time and a restless community, there isn’t time. victimology is tough too. the women are all different, no jobs, friends, or hobbies to connect them.

to combat the long hours, derek brings you and spencer coffee, his warm and yours iced. spencer grumbles about having to add cream and sugar to it but yours is perfect, your exact order. it’s a small gesture but it sends your heart fluttering. but, you know not to overthink it. if anyone asked, you could recite the team's coffee orders off the top of your head; except for hotch who, in secret, prefers matcha.

you choose to stay at the precinct when garcia gives off the name and address of the suspect; arthur miller. raids aren't your strong suit. each member of the team looks at you as they leave to which you nod. a silent be safe.

miller fights the entire way to the interrogation room. derek’s grip on his arms are strong but even he struggles a bit with the thrashing. you don’t blame miller. as of right now, he’s innocent. if you were brought in, you would be kicking too.

once the team regroups, the objective is clear; get a confession or frankly, anything that’ll help the case.

“y/n, get ready. you’re interviewing.”

hotch’s orders are stern. 

derek scoffed. “hotch, come on man. we have a missing woman and he is the only suspect we have. you want to send her? she never talks.”

your head drops. it’s not an unusual reaction but his words sting; you’re used to side comments from police officers or families from cases, not a close friend. 

“morgan,” hotch warns.

“no no. we have five dead women and who knows if there are any others. and you want to send in the girl who can barely even operate verbally on this team. are you not seeing how she could screw this up?”

it’s silent.

your heart splits out of pure betrayal and dejection. you weren’t exactly open with the team about why you’re so quiet, but you didn’t think anyone on the team thought of you this way, let alone derek.

hotch turns to you with a nod. permission to proceed. you stand up with your head bowed.

you like derek, more than you probably should. it's childish, delusional, to think he would ever like you back. but his words don’t just sting, they burn. barely even operate, screw this up. you bite your lip in an attempt to try to not to let it show how this is impacting you.

derek shakes his head and turns around, mumbling something about it being the wrong decision. you have no choice but to ignore it, grabbing your cosmetics bag and heading into the precinct bathroom to get ready. 

eyes fall to you as you stepped out of the bathroom. this is the biggest interview of your career yet, and you needed to dress the part. 

you kept your dress pants on, though you shed your top layer besides a tank top, pulling it down just enough to be considered scandalous. with makeup and hair dolled up, you grabbed the file from hotch and stopped.

“are you ready for this?” his questioned stems from protectiveness. 

you nod. “i am.”

with the case file in hand, you head towards the interrogation room. you look nervous, like you don’t know if there's a hungry lion or bouquet of flowers on the other side.

but the second the door clicked shut, your demeanor changed. 

“well hello pretty lady,” arthur greets almost immediately. 

to the teams surprise, you giggle. “pretty?”

“very.”

a smile remains on your face as you sit down, case file placed on the table. 

“now i have to ask, what’s a pretty lady like you doing with the fbi?” he muses. 

you shrug, hand moving up to twirl a strand of hair. “i dunno,” you start. your tone is sweet, almost sickeningly. “my daddy wanted me to make something of myself. thought crime might be fun. i was actually excited to be asked to talk to you.”

this catches arthur’s attention. 

“you interested in murder, little lady?”

you nod, pulling in your bottom lip as you lean forward. his eyes fall to your chest. it’s gross and subjective but expected. 

“i asked my boss to let me talk to you,” you reveal. “i couldn’t help it. they all left for the day so i’m working off the clock for this.”

“off the clock?” arthur clicked his tongue twice. “eager girl.”

“yup,” you beam, popping the last letter. “i asked if i could film it but they said no. have to pay to record after hours i think.”

“i guess i’ll just have to make this moment last.”

you met his eyes, though not for too long to keep up your act. 

“tell me about this?” you beg after opening the file, a pout passing your lips. “it’s so cool.” 

arthur grins and at that moment, you know you have him right where you need him. 

“well,” he starts, using two fingers to slide one of the pictures out. “that was lacy walker. ooh ooh ooh, she was sweet. screamed too. all the best ones scream.”

“these are all of your kills?” you hope your astonishment sounds genuine.

arthur grins. “only the public ones.”

only the public ones. 

there’s more. 

there’s more killings no one even knows about.

your head is spinning. you don’t even want to think about the reaction of the others behind the one-way glass. while you wanted to coerce more information out of him about it, you knew you would be pushing your luck.

instead, you roll your eyes and scoff. facade aside, you can’t help it. 

“you know i thought criminals like you were smart.”

arthur freezes. “what?”

“i mean come on. are you really dumb enough to think that all of this isn’t being recorded?” the question hangs in the air. “because you just confessed to a hell of a lot of murders.”

he jumps up, realizing what he’s done. at the same time, you do too, slamming your hands on your desk. you stand taller, height not restricted by handcuffs connected to the table. 

“that’s honestly just embarrassing,” you titter.

arthur yells the entire time it takes you to gather the file and walk ouit of the room, but it doesn’t impact you. you got a confession and you got it quick. someone else can deal with interrogating him on his other victims. 

you don’t stop to talk to the team, though their faces show a range of emotions: proud, impressed, and a slight bit of panic, no doubt from the information you got out of arthur. after grabbing your cosmetics bag, you head to the bathroom. all of the team, besides one, has turned away at this point. you don’t even have to guess as to who keeps their gaze on you.

hotch sends everyone to the hotel to get some rest. interrogations on arthur’s other murders would wait until the following day. 

no one was going to argue with that.

derek made his way to your hotel room that night. he mind was swirling with what he said to you earlier and especially after a not-so-nice talking to from emily, he needed to apologize. 

you heard the knock on your door after you slipped a t-shirt on post shower. it was late and you were sure most of the team was asleep. 

after checking the peephole, you hook a deep breath and opened the door. 

“y/n,” derek greets. 

it’s weird for him to be here, especially at this hour and especially after what went down earlier in the day. 

“can i come in?”

you nod, opening the door a little wider for him to step in. 

your eyes look at him quizzingly and derek swears he melts. if his guilt hadn’t reached the surface, it did now. eyes were always a weakness. when you didn’t talk, your eyes showed how you were feeling and right now, they’re filled with sadness. 

“i wanted to apologize for what i said today,” he starts. “it was out of line. i shouldn’t have questioned your ability. I'm sorry.”

short and simple. 

you stay quiet. 

as much as you want to forgive him, tell him “it’s okay,” a simple ‘i’m sorry’ doesn’t fix things.

derek continues. “you deserve to be on this team, i shouldn’t have questioned that. i’m sorry, i really am. i like you,” you swear your heart stops. “i like working with you. i just hope you understand where i was coming from.”

that last part erases all prior apologies. seconds ago you would have placed money that there was an underlying confession in there. you would have gone to bed blushing and giggling over the possibility of requited feelings. how could you have understood where he was coming from? 

your eyes narrowed, lips pressing into a thin line. 

you rack your mind for something to say. you need him to know how he hurt you, but yelling isn’t something you do, especially at someone like derek.

the silence becomes unbearable even for him.

“god for once in your life can you please say something?” derek looks to the ceiling. “i’m trying to do the right thing here.”

each word stings more than the last. 

he didn’t want to apologize for the things he said, but rather he felt like he had to. 

“goodnight derek,” you whisper. anger bubbles but you don’t - can’t - lash out. 

derek looks to you defeated. you know that’s not the response he was expecting. 

the door closing after him rings in his ears even as he falls asleep. 

____

hotch and rossi lead the interrogations the next day. 

they’re the opposite of what you gave arthur. they’re strict and stern and get the information they need by early evening. 

but it’s too late to fly home to washington. 

when he makes the announcement that you would be staying in san jose until the following morning, spencer is nodding off on your shoulder and j.j. is slumped in a chair in the corner. everyone needs sleep.

you trudge into your hotel room, following the same routine as the prior night. a shower feels wonderful on your tired body. 

ignoring derek isn’t ideal, but it’s necessary. it’s painful and hurts more every time you remember how much you like him. when spencer goes quiet, derek seems to understand, never pushing him to speak when he doesn’t want to. but for you, it’s different. why is it different?

that question racks your brain as you get dressed.

before you can crawl in bed, there’s another knock. this time you don’t even have to guess who it is.

“we need to talk,” derek pushes out. 

everything inside of you is telling you not to open the door further, not to let him in. He didn’t even greet you this time. but you do, derek walking inside, though not moving past the space after the door. 

“i know i apologized last night,” he cringes at his words. “well, attempted to apologize. i don’t have any excuses, really. the things about liking you and working with you, those we’re all true, i promise. i let my emotions get the best of me and i took it out on you. i know it doesn’t justify any of this but i wanted to apologize again.”

his apology is nice, it feels genuine but the question from earlier is eating you up and you can’t have it unanswered.

“why do you treat me differently than spencer?”

derek furrows his brow. “different?”

“every time he doesn’t talk, you don’t seem bothered. but when it’s me, it’s like my silence is the greatest inconvenience in the world to you.”

“oh.”

you suddenly feel small, like every instance you’ve picked up on never even happened.

it’s easier to drop your head, tap your fingers consistently on your palm and go quiet. always go quiet.

but derek doesn’t let you. his finger hooks under your chin to pull your face up to his.

“hey hey, don’t hide from me now.” 

“i’m sorry,” you squeak.

“no need to apologize.”

his gaze is intimidating. you feel like he’s profiling you, the rule the team put in place seemingly not existing. 

“i treat you differently because you’re you. i promise it’s not a bother, i just really really like your voice.”

your mouth parts. you don’t miss the flicker of derek’s eyes down to them. you know your expression is probably embarrassing right now, how in love you look. but you’re past embarrassment and you take your chances.

your kiss is soft and gentle, short and sweet. 

derek isn’t expecting it. he thought you would’ve been a lot more upset, not using his mistakes as a reveal of your feelings. but in no matter does he mind. if he’s being honest, he’s waited for this moment for a while. 

you pull away first, mouth opening to utter an apology but derek beats you to it, meeting your lips in a bruising kiss. 

neither of you know if this would be your only kiss and it’s clear in the way he holds you.

you don’t part the entire way derek nudges you towards the bed. you fall first, him crawling on top. you pull back first. your breaths are heavy and your eyes never leave derek’s.

it’s expected that he would say something first, though you weren’t sure what he would say. are your feelings really the same? are you even allowed to date within the team?

but derek doesn’t verbalize any of that. his thumb moves to the space between your eyebrows, rubbing just slightly back and forth to ease the crinkle you developed from your overthinking. oh. 

you know he still feels bad about his earlier words. but he kisses the tip of your nose before ducking down to your jawline, trailing kisses there. 

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m sorry,” each apology is met with a kiss to your neck, almost as if he’s pressing his words into your skin. 

and to his surprise, you giggle. 

“stop apologizing.”

derek pulls back, eyes meeting yours. 

your cheeks are rosy, lips plump from kissing. one hand rests on the spot beside your head, using it to hold himself up. derek’s other hand, previously on your hip, moves to cup your cheek.

“i think that might just be the most beautiful sound i’ve ever heard.”

and with that, his lips meet yours again.

[tired-hellowl]

here' a comprehensive list as to every problem I have with the current *unecessary characters known as 'Glitz and Glam'

Do they expand the story/worldbuilding in any meaningful way? Do they explore a new hidden dynamic/past conjunction with a differing character and is that explored meaningfully? What was the point of having them animated when Mammon can portray the same level of humiliation/degrading/on stage lack of positive reinforcements. 😐

I'm so sorry but I view these characters as necessary garbage that caused some animators arthritis via too many patterns, not enough screen time to have meat and potatoes worth of dialogue, or really any pretense within the story whatsoever and yes this extends towards every female character on screen but let's not worry about that !!! Even if they are IMPLIED to be from the ring of envy-a color or ring we haven't seen nor meaningfully conveyed to the audience that it even is possible to go in/exists- it isn't conveyed to the audience well enough besides the visual implication of colors???? Instead of having shitty b-plots that go nowhere via Stolas and Blitz goofing off in seeing stars, Moxxie and Millie getting C-plots for no reason, or loona getting a rabies shot- all of that time could have been exploring hell, going to different rings, focusing on other characters besides the main 5, literally I would prefer a quiet episode like BoJack Horsemans 'Fish out of Water'where we can actually see the personalities of the main characters be appreciated and shown to us but that's never gonna happen :/

What I've been worried about is not even the on screen racism/out of touch 'rap/hip-hop parody' leaves a terrible taste in my mouth, if that isn't enough then the sexualization/implication of an incest type dynamic and nothing else besides fetish bait with these characters constantly grabbing one another and not really acting like siblings moreso someone who has never had siblings attempting to write sibling banter and failing terribly :/

Why do you have a problem with 'Klown Bitch' it's so catchy! Uhm, no??? I feel bad for anyone who attempts to defend helluva/hazbin as good modern musicals let me grit my teeth in silence as to the glorification over white people dominating black culture

HERES A HISTORY OF FEMALE HIPHOP ARTISTS: X

Pictured above is very old concept art about twin characters and its the same hairshape viv kept to transfer over to glitz/glam- despite clearly being over designed and way too much going on Alá vivzie style. It just goes to show she recycles even from herself and not every design is always new hot and fresh :/ AND SPEAKING OF CONCEPT ART-

Also also don't forget salems' concept designs thst got passed even though they loon toony, loony, clown enough, and definitely majorly way easier to have animated besides the mess that is the current design meta ???

Love how you can clearly see the silhouettes being so easily identifiable comparably towards the actual amalgamated mess that is their current limbs attempting to hold onto their toothpick body for their head.

All this screams to me is viv using the artists thst try to come onto helluva and they try their best with what their given, viv only picks the best bits SHE thinks is worth her time rather then thinking about the audience or animating anything else besides overglorified white people rap 🤔

Also the episode literally presents its full internalized misogyny/racism within this episode because vivzie herself literally admitted to typing into script with a full chest that

'Women just ain't funny'

. . .

why present misogyny within the series if you as a creator aren't willing to tackle the subject matter? Why write about it or present it as if you're smart over including the joke in your script when it isn't even funny because it just further pushes women out of the entertainment/comedy business which mind you IS ALREADY VERY WELL MALE DOMINATED SO PUTTING OTHER WOMEN DOWN TO PUT YOURSELF UP ISNT HELPING YOUR CASE VIV???

So then what was the point of adding female clowns if all you were going to do with them was make fun of them out of their expense and then profit off of the fact that they are incest coded????????????

?????????Are we watching the same fucking series????????

[merionettes]

part 1 of how rubicon got written is here. this is part 2, aka the essay about etc.

the thing about the storyboarding/drafting process that there is no way to describe is how totally obsessed i was for the duration. afterwards i tweeted something like, this is the closest i've ever experienced to demonic possession. i would get up, write all day—like, all day—and go to bed. turn off the lights. then i would just lie wide awake in the dark with lines and scenes and dialogue scrolling through my head until i gave in and opened my notes app. i could not turn it off even if i wanted to. and i didn't want to, i was riding that streak as far as it would take me. because i couldn't look down, right? i could sense what i was attempting to do and anything other than total tunnel vision full speed ahead eyes on the prize would mean i had to acknowledge it.

(context of what made this possible: i was unemployed at the time.)

for the first ~50k or so i was afraid that at any minute i could falter. when i got to the nationals meltdown, that was when i knew i could do it. like, no matter what happened after that, i had the willpower and the chops and i knew where i was going. even if the streak died.

but it didn't. i wrote 100k in a little under 4 weeks. i've never experienced anything like that in my creative life. 

—then obviously i had to get a new job and come back down to earth and it took 21 months to get from there to posting the epilogue. still. i will probably be chasing that high for the rest of my life. that was the part that like… made the rest of it possible. no matter how difficult or frustrating it was. that generated the roadmap. 

i've talked about this before in comments but i had insanely strong opinions about what was "right" and what wasn't. sylvain's narrative voice was a huge part of that. it's inextricable from the content; it shaped the story; it is the story. for the first couple months it also made me an unhinged stylistic tyrant. if there was one single unnecessary word that struck me as inorganic, as existing solely to make the sentence more digestible or to convey information beyond the fourth wall, it had to go. i could not rest until it did. 

once again: this is not generally the relationship i have with writing. lol. it's the demonic possession talking. this is why you have a ton of sentence fragments and stylistic tics and a refusal to let one single shred of information into the text that did not strike me as something sylvain would plausibly think or acknowledge he was thinking. and like, yeah. probably it didn't always make for the smoothest reading experience or the most satisfying narrative development. i'm dead certain there are people who picked this fic up and the bumps drove them out of their mind until they threw in the towel. i just didn't care. 

part of that was a reaction to my own old style—you know, the discomfort of shedding old skin. i'd look at those early scene attempts and see all the habits and crutches i'd been trying to move away from over the last two years and double down on The Voice. but part of it… i would get early feedback that wasn't at all wrong, like "what if [clarifying narration]," "what if [more interaction]," and i'd just think, but that's not true. in exactly those words! which is crazy.

(this is why it was fortunate this was fanfiction i was writing for free, i didn't have to compromise my bonkers experience any more than i wanted to.)

to be clear this feeling didn't last two years. i was eventually able to edit like a normal person. it did last probably longer than ideal. and the point when i was no longer running on unleaded creative adrenaline was when i started to really struggle with the middle of the story. i had to make choices as a writer, instead of relying on the purity of my divine vision or whatever, and i second-guessed myself a lot. it was much easier to feel that absolute bone-deep certainty of Right and Wrong, True and False. and the thought of fucking up when i'd gotten so far was unbearable—like, being so close to making the thing in my head reality and then dropping the ball and breaking the suspension of disbelief.

distance also made it possible to perceive what i was doing and be like, jesus mer what the fuck are you doing. why are you devoting so much of your time to a hobby, why are you investing so much of your life in something you will never be able to truly share, why are you living in a hole with no one else in it. why are you putting yourself through the wringer to get it down "right." why does it matter if it's as good as it can be. why do you care. why is this worth it.

i assume this was pretty obvious before this post, but if not it must be now. this story isn't really about figure skating. for me it's about writing; who knows what it's about for you. i didn't sit down and think, great, felix will be a metaphor. that's just how it happens. 

the experience of writing a novel for the first time: i'm saying this with my whole chest because at one point i wouldn't have, aloud. but what's the point in calling it anything else? i know exactly how much i invested in this. i'm the only one who can know. that's sort of the point. 

here's a giant collage of the inside of my head. i made it for myself and i take it very seriously. not exactly groundbreaking to say this is the ultimate exercise in solipsism. when you're doing that—what greater gift is there than to have someone else meet you in exactly the same place. any writer would kill for the kind of responses this story has gotten, and i don't mean praise. i mean the close reads, the free response essays, the total and complete validation that this thing inside your head that only you can see is real, actually. when i say thank you, it's not for liking it or praising it—it's for taking it seriously. i loved this thing. i still love this thing. thank you for taking it seriously.

[gotham-daydreams]

Not sure how to word this adequately so I’ll just go for it. It feels like music is important to the reader as they are a musician. When I was younger my bio family made me play piano as it was classy instead of drums which they dubbed “too punk”. Of course now that I’m older and more free I turned back to drums and am a full metalhead. I like to imagine that once the batfam visits the reader they’ll be a little more free to do as they like, so I keep telling myself the reader won’t look the same at all, full on metalhead or punk. Like all those music posters when the reader was young was probably less thrash and more school appropriate. But now they’d just sitting there with corpse paint. Or something else that’s equally flashy. I like to think the family is just in utter shock, the difference between the more neat and classy child vs the reader now, with flashy hairstyles/ clothes and makeup. Maybe the reader is still writing songs but it’s all metal and their friends are not in a band with them. This is just a self indulgent headcanon because my closest friends introduced me to metal (once I immigrated to this country) and it felt weirdly liberating. Now whenever I visit my family in my home country they’re always in shock at how much I’ve changed. I like to think it’ll be the same with the Batfamily.

I honestly really like this interpretation! And love it a lot!

Whereas I can't say that the reader will turn full metal as I'd like to leave which style and such they're going for now up in the air, and leave that for you and others to decide, I can say that they will look different, as you've mentioned!

I won't press on it too hard in Part 3 but it is still noticeable, I'd say, and I will likely mention it but again- won't press to hard on it only because of what Part 3 really focuses on. Or! Maybe I will a little bit because of what part 3 is really talking about, or trying to further convey.

Regardless, I am very happy for you! The headcanon is very lovely <3

Oh! Right! I will also say that music does really play a huge part to the reader, and it is very important to them. Like others — fellow artists or not — it has gotten them through tough times, and while they did feel obligated to pick up certain instruments, others were purely for their own enjoyment. They find freedom in playing, but it also leads them to a new world - maybe even a better one that they're slowly pulled out of as the song comes to and end.

Again, I'm going to leave the style and specific genre up to interpretation, and honestly from now on might try to be more vague with the instruments the reader plays at certain instances, so that it can be easier for you and others to picture the reader playing whatever you think would fit the scenario.

Though as you've also said, I can say that the Batfam will be in shock, but I suppose that's already expected since, in the narrative, they no little about the reader as a whole, y'know? So just about anything will surprise them, but that's not necessarily a bad thing from the reader's side. Just a further wake up call, I suppose :]

Nevertheless, thank you very much for sharing your interpretation! I find it very touching and I appreciate it a lot. It's really cool, honestly!

[revoevokukil]

On why TWN's angle on Falka & Lara Dorren in relation to Ciri's arc is pretty weird & misleading.

It overemphasises sticking it to misogyny & forgets that The Witcher deals with the way trauma can make monsters of people & make personal desires lead to monstrous consequences.

As TWN's looking for a money-making premise, saying "Ciri needs to avenge Falka because she was a victim of a witch hunt" is much easier than conveying that Ciri is dealing with severe trauma & is taken in by "friends" who've suffered similarly & also abuse her in similar ways.

As a result, Ciri loses her morals bc it's too tempting to start taking out her rage for being mistreated on everyone around her, including the innocents. If they have not hurt you yet, they will - so hurt them first! This is a trauma response. This is also Falka's legacy.

Further, Falka was not Ciri's ancestor. Making them blood-relatives in earnest & justifying Ciri's turn to the dark with that is at once a dumb simplification & ironic: it sets Ciri on a pre-determined path when the Witcher is ultimately about the choice between violence & love.

Ciri is not "avenging" Falka & Lara in a "you-go-girl" moment. Ciri's path of vengeance is a tragedy. She is trying to avenge herself as a wounded & traumatized person. With the consequences of her deeprooted needs & violent emotions being woeful, just as Lara Dorren's choices & actions were in the grand scheme of things.

Let's talk about Falka. It looks like Falka will be conveyed as a girlboss. Falka was not discriminated against bc she was a woman. Misogyny in her tale is present insofar as Vridank disowned her after having divorced Falka's mother because she was ugly.

Falka when she was wronged was not a "remarkable woman" & her father was not "afraid of her power" - she was 1y old when she was disowned. Her revenge on her father, half-siblings (including Riannon) & Cerro was about being abandoned & her title of Princess ripped away from her.

And Falka's rage at being stripped of her birthright & deprived of all legitimate power is an exact echo of Ciri's own ire. That is why Ciri eventually leaves the Rats - because she cannot stand the thought of an impostor becoming the Empress of Nilfgaard under her name.

Falka's tale as Ciri's is one of a child being deprived of love & parental guidance, of being exposed to violence & how it leads to the picking of monstrous means for dealing with their pain. It's not possession, it's not blood magic. It's the choices of people who are in pain.

The theme of a cycle of violence underlies the lives of Witcher's characters: Geralt's inability to deal w Visenna's abandonment, Yennefer killing her parents, Milva killing her father, etc. Instead TWN is simplifying again: men mistreat women, women get revenge; revenge good! Raar!

The Witcher is pretty clear on revenge not paying off. Revenge consumes & leads to parents & loved ones hanging in the gallows, burned on stakes. That is Falka's story & it's not one about emancipation. It's about how monsters are made.

A fate Geralt tried to protect Ciri from.

A/N: This is a summary of a discord discussion + thoughts in response to the description on the official Netflix website: “[Ciri] is the descendant of Lara Dorren and Falka: fierce, remarkable women who were swallowed up by the men afraid of their power. Women whom Ciri is destined to avenge.“

----

If you like my writing, consider buying me a coffee. Thanks! ❤️

[erisenyo]

Hello! You're like, the only author on ao3 who writes their stories in advance and who I follow, so excuse my whining here, please. Does it ever happen to you that you have a (conversation about the Thing here) in the first draft, and you just can't get around it? Because I'm feeling it very much myself and this is the first time I'm not doing chapter by chapter chaos and... well, I am missing the comments and losing the spirit. This convo is the base of all the other missing stuff, even if I try to move on, I'm still practically writing that one and. It shuts me down. Any ideas? Sorry for bothering you!

Hello anon!

So if I'm understanding your question right (and definitely let me know if I'm not!), you're asking how to plow through a stuck scene without the motivation and inspiration from the comments of posting as you go.

Which is a real struggle that I very much sympathize with! And I potentially have two answers, depending on if it's the stuckness that's getting you, or more the feedback side of things.

And in typical me-style, this answer is long, so I am putting it below a cut lol

On being stuck on a scene--if I truly can't get past it, it seems bogged down and boring and I'm just not excited for it anymore, I have a few strategies:

My tried and true is to go back 10ish lines or a few paragraphs before, even to the start of the scene, because a lot of times what I'm getting stuck on is that the scene needs a different narrative framing or lead-in (usually, for me, just starting more in the middle of things instead of giving all the exhaustive lead-in)

Sometimes a scene/convo flows better for me if I set it in a different location, between a different mix of people, or if I put some sort of action around it (a conversation between Sokka and Zuko about something purely plot-based can layer in lots of fun characterization if suddenly it's occurring while Zuko is trying to do work and Sokka is trying to get him to eat lunch at the same time)

A POV switch! Sometimes my current narrator is just the wrong one for this scene, because they know too much or not enough (I usually prefer the narrator who knows the least, so they can be learning along with the reader)

Sometimes I realize I don't actually need the scene, I just need to have the characters to reference or react to it after, and as long as I know that ABC happened I don't actually have to write it all out. (This can help make the pacing feel faster, too, and sometimes it feels easier and more interesting to fold the references and reactions into later scenes than to actually write it all out)

Specifically for exposition or something that's feeling infodumpy, finding ways to weave the information into other scenes can be really helpful. When I wrote To Open Every Door I worked a LOT at this, and I essentially ended up sketching out a chapter, having a list of like 10 or 15 or however many things I needed to convey by the end of the chapter (to establish worldbuilding, the status of interpersonal relationships, background, whatever), and then going through my rough draft and finding ways to drop those pieces into a character's reactions and thoughts, to fold them into dialogue, to have OCs saying things, basically weaving the exposition across the chapter instead of delivering it all at once

Talking it out! Literally just articulating what feels off or weird about a scene to someone (or like, your cat, or yourself) often helps me narrow in on what needs fixing, or start to form an idea on how to make it flow better (Thanks Ash lol, your support is invaluable even when you insist you did nothing)

This one is kind of silly, but...try working in a different format! I write in Word, but I plan out my outlines in a table, and brainstorm with bullets, and when I'm stuck I often break out Excel. Seeing the information laid out differently on the page helps me quite literally see it differently in a way that can help me think about it differently, too

And if at the end of all that I'm still stick...do I really need the scene? If so, why? What work is the scene doing (emotional, plot, characterization, worldbuilding, etc.)? A lot of times, understanding the purpose of the scene helps me figure out how best to convey the info, whether its another scene, a different version of the scene I'm stick on, or by refocusing the scene around some other element that's more exciting (like switching the plot into the background behind some characterization or interpersonal moment, or vice versa)

That was a lot! But if what's really got you losing momentum is the lack of feedback--that's totally understandable too! Writing can be a lonely endeavor, so some things I do...

Find a buddy to share it with, whether a hype man or a listening ear! Even if it's just on anon, feeding off of someone else's reactions and excitement can help me get excited and enthusiastic too

Did your commenters speculate and get excited for what was next in a way you found inspiring? Is there a way to replicate that by talking at a higher level about what you're writing so that people can get hyped for the scenario or talk about how it could go, or just add tags to a post that generate energy?

You can post updates along the way, like lines you're excited about or little scene snippets, or just talking about the fic in the tags where it fits. It can be a way to get little bits of feedback and engagement along the way (Meesh always with the eagle eye for my tags whenever I'm rambling about fics haha)

Share the things you're excited about! Whether it's a particular scene, a character dynamic, a trope, a bit of worldbuilding--it's a great way to find people who will get excited along with you, and it also helps me to focus on what got me wanting to write the fic in the first place. Sometimes I'm not the most enthused about writing another post-canon get-together requiring a bunch of setup exposition, but then I think about how fun the Zuko-Mai bestie dynamic will be, or the ridiculous angst of the boys pining for that one night stand they had at that masquerade that they don't realize is each other, and I get enthused all over again haha

And relatedly--hone in on what excites you about the story! Even if you don't share it, is there a scene you can't wait for? A particular interpersonal dynamic you can't get enough of? A twist or reveal you can't wait to share? Focusing on those exciting bits can help me keep my enthusiasm going

Mix up where you write--I rotate between writing on my commute, in my house in various locations, and in a coffee shop basically depending on how social I am feeling on a given day. If you're feeling a bit alone in the writing, maybe it would help to write in a library or cafe or park, or if you're feeling distracted maybe you need a quieter place, or pure just change of setting in general!

Maybe you post it! For me I need to write everything out beforehand, because the serialized posting format makes me hate writing in all ways, and also I get a lot of ideas as I go, where my first drafts very truly are working drafts and it's not uncommon for me to pause in the middle of like, Ch 12 to go back to Ch 2 to lay the groundwork for a scene, and then to Ch 5 to add the setup for a joke I'll land in Ch 14. (Or for me to realize as I edit that I included scenes with absolutely no follow-up that I can now add haha). But that approach isn't for everyone, and maybe you write a few chapters at a time and post them week to week, or maybe you post what you have now to get through this scene and then go back to writing all the rest out. Just cause you started thinking you'll write it all first doesn't mean you have to stick with it if it's not working and something about posting would shake you out of it!

That was...probably way more ideas than you wanted or needed, but let me know if any of them help! I'm crossing my fingers for you!

[firstkanaphans]

Hi Sarah 🩷

I reread Business or Pleasure + The Spark in one sitting for god only knows which time now and I thought I needed to let you know that your multi-chapter AkkAye stories are definitely my comfort fics. The Only Friends x Heart in a Cage universe holds a particularly special place in my heart and if ao3 wrapped had been a real thing, those two would've been up there in my top3, categorised as 're-read on repeat' or something along those lines 😅 I do try to comment whenever I can, but I think that all the comments I've ever left combined are not able to convey how much I adore your work and how thankful I am for you sharing your stories with us.

Much love,

secret admirer 😽

Not you signing this “secret admirer” and giving me plot bunnies. Like I can totally picture a scenario where Aye tries to flirt with Akk who just thinks he’s making fun of him, so Aye starts writing him secret admirer letters instead 😭

But anyway…Thank you so much! It’s still astounding to me that people read my fics at all—much less in one sitting. That takes dedication.

In all honesty, I’m very eager to get back to writing fanfic. I miss it. This brief detour from fanfic writer to translator has been fun, but I feel like I’m a bit out of my wheelhouse.

I’m so glad my fics have been able to bring you joy over the past year. It’s a symbiotic relationship, I promise you. All of your comments and kind words make my tough days a little bit easier 💕

[winterswhite]

So, translating drained me a little, but I have been meaning to talk about my thoughts on this year's relay blog, and a discussion in the Kisetsu server about the Homare -> Citron post order sparked a ramble from me, so I figured I'd post it here, too.

I think putting Homare and Citron in sequence was really fun and showed us a lot more about both of them than any other order could have this year. While at first glance it looks like Homare trying to fill out Citron's profile properly until the "someone I look up to" section, and Citron responding with nothing but jokes, but looking properly at both posts, you see a lot more of each of their characters and development.

The way I saw it, with Homare putting down his own name for Citron's "someone I look up to," it would've been easy to dismiss that as showing that Homare still struggles with understanding people, but Citron's reaction ended up proving that he was right, and it wasn't just by chance that he was. Homare says himself that he analyzed Citron over and over again, and it shows in all three sections of the profile book that he *does* understand him, with him writing down "wordplay" for Citron's hobby, pegging him as someone prone to loneliness (there's a ramble about shared feelings of isolation somewhere here) and wanting to love (again, I could go off about Citron loving harugumi and expecting nothing in return), and even in the names he put down in all three flowers in the association corner, including his own. The way he was able to do this and the way he talks about it both show a great deal of his development and how much more confident he's become in his ability to understand the people around him.

Going forward, Citron's reaction to his profile only further solidifies the idea that Homare saw right through him. He felt seen, his perfectly crafted character was seen right through, and his entire blog was a response to that feeling.

He starts off his post with a title in his typical misspelled fashion (though this carries very different meaning in Japanese than I could ever convey in English with him using wildly inappropriate kanji instead of just misspelling or using hiragana instead of katakana or vice versa and I think it's really interesting what kanji he chose for his own name because they imply these choices were very intentional, especially in combination with what he chose for Guy, but I digress), setting up the expectation for a typical Citron blog, but from the very first sentence, the tone of the post completely changes and Citron is suddenly speaking in a formal and proper way that he hasn't before. He also says:

This time, I thought it would be better to make this easier for everyone to read, so I adopted this way of writing. However, my other blogs have always gotten through to you, right?

Immediately, readers think something is off, and to anyone who doesn't know what Citron is really like, the first question is "okay, who wrote this for him?" And that question is further justified by the way he ends his blog with "Written by: ???" (the Japanese word is 代筆, writing on someone's behalf), creating the impression that he didn't write this post himself; someone else had to write it for him. His hobby is wordplay, you say? What wordplay? He's simply bad at Japanese and messes up his words out of genuine inexperience. Silly Homare. To any outsider, it would seem that Homare genuinely is mistaken, but Homare knows, as we readers do, that he hit the nail on the head with that one, and it takes someone who can understand other people to see that Citron is just putting up a front.

This is further seen in the profiles he filled out, a stark contrast to the tone of the blog post in how joke-y they are, especially when right after correcting his own, he tells Homare not to joke around like that.

His corrections are filled with references to his manzai duo with Tsuzuru, where we all know he plays the role of the boke or funny man. Aside from acting silly throughout his corrections, there are three references to manzai in that one sheet, serving to really drive the point home; he's just a funny man, no more, no less. The first is him writing in "manzai" for his hobby, the second is him crossing out "A kind person" and saying Tsuzuru is his tsukkomi (straight man) in Citrun, and the third, which I meant to clarify in the posts at some point but forgot to, is his reaction/response to Homare's incorrect username for him. I tried to have it come across by having it say "what the heck?" to make it sound sillier than something like "what the hell?" or "what are you talking about?", which are also both correct translations of the phrase he used. That phrase is 「なんでやねん？」, which means what I said above, except that it's in Kansai dialect as opposed to 'standard' Tokyo Japanese, the significance of that being that the Kansai dialect is frequently associated with manzai.

In combination with the way he misspells Sakyo's name in two different ways and jokes around on his entire profile (especially by adding on that he's unsure of Sakyo's ID when it's obvious that the ID is the only thing he got anywhere near the correct answer with), it's clear that Citron is trying to drive two points home: that he's bad at Japanese, and that he's a funny man whose character runs no deeper than it seems on the surface. Essentially, he's all but telling Homare that he hit too close to the truth in a way that only Homare will be able to see; to anyone else, it's just Citron being his usual silly self, and that's why I really appreciate that these two got put one after the other. It gave us a really interesting look at both of their characters that I don't think any other medium would have showed us as well as these blog posts did.

[nerdyfan1]

Tobias

Something from my Twitter that I wanted to put here, a little post on Tobias that goes into something I like about him. The undercut gets more fan canon btw lol

It just hit me…

Tobias’ first spotlight episode is called The Third

At this moment in time his last one is called The One.

Bro imagine if the writers decide that he will get another spotlight episode in season 7 and to be silly they call that episode The Repeat or The Twice? That be funny.

Tho I bring it up because it sort of illustrated how Tobias went full circle. He started and ended with trying to be one of the Watterson brothers’ friend. It’s just that now that the context and motivation between the situations conveyed in The Third and The One have changed.

In The Third he did it to get back at Gumball and maybe get some money from them both. He wasn’t being genuine in wanting to be friends with either of the brothers. Then fast forward to The One and we’re shown visible proof his little rivalry died out after awhile and now he genuinely trying because he’s actually hurt they (especially Gumball) aren’t as close friends with him as he thought.

His douchey traits are still there tho cause yeah logically it’ll take a long time till he grows out of that. Which is something I appreciate about this because way too many shows would of gone the easy route and completely abandoned Tobias’ shitter traits as a way to make it easier to feel bad for him. Which isn’t really that realistic and can be seen as lazy writing.

Instead they show Tobias is now starting to learn to read the room better. To understand social cues more. He’s definitely got a lot of growing up to do but, Tobias is starting to mature more now.

This also shows lot of his problems seem like an result of struggling to read others. Maybe because he’s autistic or maybe he’s just was raised in a way where he wasn’t able to fully understand and learn stuff like that. Think either makes sense. Personally tho I think it’s a bit of both. :P

This could also be why so many of his flirting attempts backfire so much and despite how it seems obvious two us viewers none of the girls are interested and actually annoyed by it he keeps tempting it over and over again. He’s just flat out not able to read the social cues.

Since I believe he’s being genuine when he’s flirting. In his own weird Tobias way. It’s just between the general advice from his dad on dating who’s probably wasn’t the best role model for the kid and his struggle to get the signs that someone isn’t interested it causes this really bad character flaw with the little guy.

Tobias is just a kid raised in an environment that while not traditionally seen as abusive could seriously mess him up when he grows up. It’s really hard to tell how he’ll end up when he is an adult but, I like to think that The One, even if in a small way, shows he’s probably gonna keep growing. That he’s gonna grow up to be just fine by the end. It’s weirdly optimistic feeling to that ending. Maybe it’ll be hard but, growing up is always gonna be hard.

Anyways sorry to go all character study on this I just like thinking about the Gumball kids they leave me with so much to think and speculate on you have no idea.

Thanks for reading the ramblings of some Tobias stan lmao

[gloomforrestrunes]

Super curious because I'm getting into animation memes n stuff and I know some people like to script theirs. I've been just basically coming up with mine as I go but I'm considering scripting them to make it easier on me.

Do you script your animation memes, and if so, how do you do it? I've always assumed people script memes similarly to multi-animator projects (basically, type/write out the audio, then add what the characters are doing during certain parts of the audio) but I'm not completely sure so I'm basically looking for advice I guess.

Anyway, have any advice on scripting animation memes? Entirely fine if not, I just thought I'd ask since I figured you have experience with animation memes!

so for this i would ask what type of animation memes do you want to do and what do you want them to convey? theres a lot of types of animation memes that scripting may or may not go well with. for me, i try to choose animation memes with a lot of story potential rather than more repetitive head-bobby memes (though those ones are fun for me to do on occasion!) because of that, most of the memes i do may look a lot more like pmvs than your typical animation meme.

for example, my heaven says and good in me videos are animation memes, but they don't really repeat and are much more like short-form pmvs with backgrounds, shading, and a clear story to them. if you want to do something like that, then yeah scripting may be a good idea if it works for you! but if you wanted to do something like my big shot meme, where the focus is less on storytelling and more on repetition and simplicity, i usually jump into it without much forethought.

as for what i do specifically, i dont really script my pmv-like animation memes only because i tend to have a really hard time putting whats exactly in my head into words. so instead of scripting, i do animatics and storyboards.

heres a very small snippet of one of my storyboards for a full-length pmv i want to do as an example

this storyboard isnt for an animation meme,(its for an entire song) but its pretty much the same process. its a bunch of thumbnails sketches of what i have in mind for each of the song's lyrics (if there are any) and beats. in a way its just like scripting, but more visual(?idk if thats the right word) and with more of a clear idea of what exactly i have in mind. storyboards dont have to be detailed by any means (mine certainly arent) but its the most effective way for me to quickly get my ideas down and letting it stick!

its also sorta how i plot out comic pages before properly sketching them

(also heres that storyboard completely zoomed out)

all in all it really depends on what works for you! storyboards are more effective for me but if writing down everything as words is more helpful then do that! its really up to the individual person. c:

[yeyinde]

Hi! I too have fallen down the Price rabbit hole and I absolutely adore your writing. There is one thing I wanted to make you aware of though, and this is by no means meant to make you feel bad because I know it’s not intentional and I really do love your writing!

But sometimes when you’re writing your descriptions of the reader imply that they’re a fair skin tone such as using terms like flushing red or blushing and turning red and sometimes as a darker skinned person it takes me out of the moment a bit you know? Please don’t feel bad its a simple detail and its easy to miss but it’s something I wanted to make you aware of for the future. Your writing is great I just want to ensure that everyone can enjoy it ♥️ /gen

Hi! Thank you so much for bringing this to me! I try to follow this resource when writing about embarrassment to keep it all very general but I've noticed I often tend to slip into imagery over feeling when describing certain emotions (I associate red with anger, shame, and embarrassment and use "red-hot anger" or "flushing red" to convey these intense emotions as it's easier for me to use colour to relate it—though, this is just so I can save words such as heat for other acts in the fic so it isn't repetitive). It is absolutely an easy fix, and I'll def be sure to instead expand on the feeling produced by these emotions, rather than just the clipped "flushing red/blushing" that I often follow now.

Thank you so much!!! 🖤

[lyranova]

Gaaaah! I have so many things I want to drop in your box! These fall prompts sound so cute! But I'll stick to someone less popular if it's ok. Can I get a Black Clover event for Captain Jack the Ripper x reader with the prompt "When I first saw you"? (Fluff is more than fine - it's my personal crack)

Hiya! No worries 😁, and I apologize this took so long, I’ve been lacking in motivation the past few days. But I’ll overcome it 😤! I hope you enjoy this I apologize it’s not quite as fluffy, it’s more of a “general” fic, I’ve never written Jack before but I hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 591

Warnings: None

Jack let out a sigh as he stared down at the piece of paper before him. He had been staring at it for what felt like hours, but he couldn’t figure out the right words to put down.

He let out an aggravated sigh, this was a stupid idea! Why did he let Yami talk him into doing this in the first place?!

For a while, Jack had noticed he had begun to grow feelings for a member of his squad. They were the complete opposite of him, which made him like them even more. He remembered how Yami teased and laughed at him for falling for someone who was ‘out of his league’.

So when asked how he should tell them how he felt, Yami suggested being up front about it, or if Jack wanted to be more ‘romantic’, he could write them a letter.

“ This is so freaking stupid!” Jack shouted as he bunched up another piece of paper and threw it into the corner.

Jack pulled out another and began to start again.

‘When I saw you…’

Jack sighed, trying to convey how he felt about them into words was very difficult. Especially when the words weren’t making much sense.

‘When I saw you…the world seemed…different?’

Jack sighed, again, as he crumpled up the piece of paper and tossed it aside.

“ Maybe I should talk it out first?” He asked himself with a frown, maybe if he actually said the words before he wrote them out he could make a coherent sentence?

“ When I saw you, I thought you were annoying at first.” He said with a laugh, and it was true, he had thought Y/N was a bit annoying at first. “ But then I got to know you, and my opinion changed.”

“ As I got to know you, I noticed that you weren’t as annoying as I thought. You’re actually really nice and kind, you try to encourage everyone around you, and you give me more strength then you even know.” He muttered with a fond smile, he leaned over his paper and began to write it down.

Suddenly, the words began to flow as he wrote more and more. Soon he had almost the entire page full of words expressing how he felt about Y/N.

“ Captain!” Sekke shouted as he ran into Jack’s office. “ We have a problem sir!”

Jack let out an aggravated growl as he stood and followed Sekke out of the office. He would just have to give Y/N the letter later.

Or, at least, that’s what Jack had planned.

Instead when he returned, he found Y/N standing at his desk reading the letter he had written. They stood there frozen, just staring at each other as they tried to figure out what to say to each other.

“ T-That-!” Jack began but Y/N cut him off.

“ Is this…how you really feel?” They asked softly as they held up the letter in their hand.

Jack felt a small blush creep across his cheeks as he nodded, he watched as Y/N smiled a bit and a blush crept across their face as well.

The two then sat down and talked about the letter, with Jack admitting it probably would have been easier for him to tell Y/N his feelings instead of trying to write a letter, but they disagreed and told him they appreciated the letter and that it was really sweet.

The two talked about it a bit longer before Sekke interrupted them with an ‘emergency’, again.

Thank you all so much for reading and I hope you all have good day!

[actualbird]

Hiya Zak!

Lately I've been wondering, how do you write your fics? Do you have a process? A starting point?

Also, I know a major part ppl talk about in writing is "show not tell", how do you know if you're telling instead of showing? Cause I know that I, for one, would look down at what I wrote and have no idea if I'm showing or telling.

eyyo roshie-writes :DDD

ive actually answered the question on my writing process several times before. heres the latest time i answered that question in depth (answered in dec 2021), but the tl;dr is "i make at minimum 2 outlines before Actually Writing, and my outlines get Very detailed so im effectively writing each fic at least 3 times before it actually gets posted on ao3, because i apparently love to make myself suffer" jHVJHVKJFHD

but forreal, that ask does basically go thru my entire writing process, from idea conception to Actual Writing. and my process hasnt changed one bit since then. this has been my process since like, 2015 actually HAHA. it really works for me and how my brain is Built, but every single writer is different. what works for me may not work for others. like, i am Hugely reliant on outlines, but i know a lot of writers who get bogged down by outlines and prefer to write just straight to the page, and it's really fascinating and delightful to me that there are endless methods and ways to get a story out :D

what i wanted to talk about more is the "show dont tell" thing because.....

i hate that writing tip so much JHVKJDVFJKHDSFS

and u just gave me an excuse to talk about why at length! but i still also answer ur questions ofc! just.....after i talk about a whole lot of other things oops

for easy reference, heres the chronological table of contents im gonna go through under the cut (because this response got Long As Hell it's---OH GOD IT'S OVER 1.4K WORDS LONG, IM SO SORRY)

what "show dont tell" is (bcuz definitions r important)

litmus test to figure out whether youre showing or telling

why i dont like "show dont tell" (bcuz theres a time and place for both showing and telling, they both have benefits)

how i personally like to spruce up "telling"

feel free to skip over to the litmus test, since thats what u asked for! the rest is just me rambling because i am Very passionate about the benefits of "telling" HAHA

without further ado, lemme get into it!

-

what "show dont tell" is (bcuz definitions r important)

Telling is = giving the information that a sentence/scene is trying to convey outright.

Showing is = giving the information that a sentence/scene is trying to convey through description.

so in its simplest definition, an example of a Telling sentence could be, for example "The office of Luke's detective agency was often messy, but Rosa's has always known that Luke's a bit of a messy person."

meanwhile a Showing version of that sentence could be, for example "Upon entering the office of Luke's detective agency, there were discarded reports on the floor, dusty file boxes in disarray, a half empty bag of dried figs on the couch; all of which Rosa just sighs fondly at."

at this point, i wanna say that "show dont tell" is probably a very popular piece of advice because for many beginner writers or for people new to storytelling in general, the first instinct is to tell. because it's often more direct, and it's also how we generally tell stories in casual conversation, for example. like, when im telling my friend about a funny thing that happened at work, i tell them "dude this thing made me SO FUCKING NERVOUS" which is a Telling sentence. i usually dont go "my hands were shaking the entire time i was giving this presentation and my gut felt like it was twisting into itself" which is a Showing sentence, simply because the Telling sentence is easier and quicker to say.

Telling is first instinct, but reading a 5k short story that is all Telling can get pretty boring or monotonous, because what Showing has that Telling often doesnt have is Description. Showing fleshes out a scene some more, challenges the reader to surmise details on their own and connect the dots themselves, and also trains beginners to be more active in describing their scenes and fleshing it out further.

-

litmus test to figure out whether youre showing or telling

in general when youve got a Telling sentence, the information a sentence is trying to convey is most usually directly spelled out in the sentence itself.

on the flipside, when youve got a Showing sentence, the information is something that can be garnered from the descriptors of what can be seen, how other characters react, etc.

so long as a sentence is Not Outright saying the information it wants to get across, then youve probably got a showing sentence.

so if ur trying to figure out if what youve written is Telling or Showing, first ask yourself "what information am i trying to convey here?" and once you know that, look at what youve written and see how you conveyed it. did you convey this directly? or did you allude to it using details that lead to that information?

to demonstrate, let me go back to my previous example with luke and rosa. both sentences are conveying two pieces of information. 1) that the office is usually messy and 2) that rosa isn't surprised cuz she knows luke Lives Like This

the Telling sentence says these pieces of info outright. meanwhile the Showing sentence doesnt and takes more time to give details that simply allude to those two pieces of information, details like what shit luke has strewn around his apartment and rosa's reaction.

-

why i dont like "show dont tell" (bcuz theres a time and place for both showing and telling, they both have benefits)

i dont like "show dont tell" because a lot of the time, when i see this piece of writing advice, it's worded as "ALWAYS show and NEVER tell" and uh.......no, thats not right

first off, all writing advice is Not absolute. what works for one writer may not work for another writer and no technique out there is inherently Bad, it all Depends on so many factors. secondly, the balance between Showing and Telling is also hugely reliant on each writer's specific style. like, personally i love to do Telling a bunch for sentence structure variation, for humor/comedy, or for a whole lot of other reasons!! which leads me to my third point:

Telling has its uses and its benefits.

because listen......Showing is indeed really great, and like i said earlier, it pushes writers to flesh out scenes more.

but not every scene or piece of information in a story needs to be fleshed out in the way that Showing necessitates.

i like to think about it this way. Showing has the tendency to expand a scene/information, and i visualize this literally. like, if my story was represented by 5 accordions glued to each other (bear with me here), and i just so happened wanted to use Showing for everything, all of those accordions would be stretched out and expanded. on the flipside, if i use Telling for everything, all of those accordions are pushed tight together, because Telling tends to contract a scene/information.

having a story thats 5 accordions long that made up of All Telling OR All Showing is generally not how stories work. instead, stories are a mix of accordions, some contracted and some expanded, because different scenes/information have different levels of importance and value.

like, lemme use an example from chapter 2 of "yes, she’s my lover, yes, she’s a half-dragon. any more questions?" since thats one of my most recent non smut fics HAHA

over the course of this chapter, the following happens

luke realizes he needs to find out more information on ria being half dragon

luke starts writing to vyn, a scholar, who could have that info

luke travels to stellis to meet vyn

luke meets vyn at his bookshop and theres a whole situation that happens there

luke returns back to his and ria's cottage

luke and ria have a little heart to heart over dinner about stuff

of those 6 things, numbers 4 and 6 are the most important scenes to me. in the chapter, numbers 4 and 6 are the scenes that get most fleshed out, they are the most told through Showing sentences in a Showing kind of method

but the other stuff isnt as important in the chapter, but they still need to be there for logistical reasons. number 1 needs to be there to setup the reason for why this whole chapter happens, but i dont want to bog the entire chapter down with just luke Realizing He Needs More Info, so i write number 1 mostly in hindsight, and mostly through Telling sentences.

same goes with numbers 2, 3, and 5. those things need to happen to get from scene to scene, but it's not like it's narratively important for me to write out luke's entire medieval fantasy commute. i can just say "One of the kingdom’s main cities is a quarter-day’s ride away from the nearby village, and after letting Ria know that he’s off to do some errands, Luke hitches a ride with a vendor on his way to the city; Stellis." and boom, done, we're in stellis and now we can get on with the more interesting bits

Telling has its uses because a story can't always be Showing everything, because then that puts every single instance or piece of information at Exactly the same value. when it really isnt! sometimes, a guy just needs to get from point A to point B, and so long as nothing important is happening during that travel, Telling is a much more economical way to go about it. sometimes the info Needs to be conveyed, but not necessarily expanded.

and this can make the stuff that is expanded and is done through Showing more impactful or striking because of the contrast. like, in the chapter i used as an example, thats 6 accordions, but 2 are completely expanded while the other 4 are more contracted. this makes the 2 more notable because it's chock full of description, dialog, imagery, etc. it makes more of an impact than, say, luke's medieval fantasy commute, because i contracted that accordion and expanded these accordions.

additionally, i seem to see a lot of people who espouse "ALWAYS show and NEVER tell" seeing Telling as something that will always be boring and dull.

and Telling can be dull sometimes, sure, but there are definitely ways to spruce it up and make it integral to the story. which leads me to my next point

-

how i personally like to spruce up "telling"

ok it's at this point that i realize this response is now over 1.4k words long so UHHHH I'LL GO THROUGH THIS NEXT BIT SUPER QUICKLY

which will be easy cuz i actually wrote up a whole post about this before, so lemme just link it: "USE YOUR CHARACTER'S PERSPECTIVE IN "TELLING" TO MAKE "TELLING" MORE ENGAGING" POST

-

uh so. this response got outta hand jhvjhVKJHVKHJ but i hope something her can be helpful!!!

[chaosincurate]

Album Spotlight - Jubilee

By Japanese Breakfast

Genre: Chamber pop/indie pop

Song to try: Paprika

This may well be one of the albums I've brought up the most since starting this blog towards the start of this year, and I have no qualms or shame regarding that. Apart from just slowly, over time, becoming one of my favourite albums of the decade so far. So I've decided to write this post for two reasons: one, to really lay out why I love this album so much; and two, to have something to link to in the constantly recurring event that I have it listed as an album I listened to in my month in music posts that makes my life easier and does the album more justice. So lets get into it shall we?

Paprika

As I write the first draft of this post, while listening to the album, my intention isn't to do a track-by-track here necessarily (although I am aware of the noticeable likelihood of the post becoming just that (P.S. kind of but not really)), but a handful of songs absolutely deserve a particularly close look, and Paprika is absolutely one of them.

Starting off with the lyrics here, this is some of my favourite writing, definitely in music, and quite possibly in any medium. To describe what I believe this song is about, I'd like to bring up the Cobra Effect story.

For those who aren't aware of the story, it goes something like this: In colonial India, there was an unsustainably high number of Cobras. The government, in an attempt to crack down on these Cobras, issued a bounty on them. Anyone that brought them a dead Cobra would be rewarded. In response, the citizens started creating Cobra farms, increasing the snake population and endangering themselves to get constant rewards from the government. Now, that story probably isn't true, but it holds a lot of rhetorical value, and I think it's apt to compare it to the relationship between expression of negative emotion and artistry. Artists initially started expressing negative emotion to work through those emotions using a healthy outlet and were rewarded, being considered brave and artistic for it, but soon that became exploitable, and artists would seek out negativity, establishing the Cobra farm that is the "tortured artist" trope, and increasing the pressure to write about negativity. If you made a song about something negative, it would be seen as artistic and valuable by default. If you made something positive, it would be seen as low-brow by default. And with that, a divide was born: artists made sad stuff, entertainers made happy stuff (there's nothing wrong with music as entertainment either, to be clear, but that isn't the path for everyone).

Paprika stands in opposition to these snake farms. Now, Michelle Zauner (the writer) doesn't seem to have any disdain for negativity in music - in fact, there are several metaphorical cobras on this very album - but this song criticizes the urge to create negative art, especially if it means ruining your own happiness so you can have something new to exploit, instead encouraging an artistic focus on the brighter side of one's life.

The song has so much density of meaning, and everything is conveyed in such a clear and beautiful way. It's a perfect paragon of positive lyricism.

Lucidity came slowly I awoke from dreams of untying a great knot It unravelled like a braid into what seemed were thousands of separate strands of fishing line Attached to a coarse behaviour A calm, it calls, it screams "what else is here?"

The excellence doesn't begin and end with words on a page though, the music is equally as enchanting. The core of the song is a marching band rhythm, which makes sense, because according to Zauner, that was the first part of the song to come to mind for her and the song was built from there. It lends a celebratory mood to the song that also drives it forward and gives the song a sense of direction, which is all perfect for this song and makes for a fantastic opener.

The percussion doesn't steal the show though, it is simply the narrator guiding you through it. The dreamy synths provide a comforting atmosphere, the vocals sound decidedly at peace and grateful, as if sang through a grin while she acknowledges she is living in a dream, the way those opening chords literally go from a chord that sounds dark and dissonant to something that sounds happier and lighter (I'm sure someone with a better ear for chords can give specifics, but I'm not that person), it's an incredible musical journey, one that I've honestly never considered to be made up of individual instruments until being pushed to pick things out of the mix right now for this post. It is one of those songs that feel more plucked out of some spiritual realm than actively worked on, so when you consider that it was created by (I'm pretty sure) real humans, it's even more awe-inspiring.

If nothing else comes of you reading this post, if you don't listen to the album, if you don't listen to Japanese Breakfast, I'm perfectly content. But I'm begging you, if you care enough about indie music to read about this album and you haven't already, listen to the song. At least read the lyrics, as imperfect as that would be. I genuinely think this is not just spectacular, but important to music and artistry as a whole, and I say that fully recognizing that I sound like a naive Swiftie saying "no no, you don't understand, she's not a writer, she's a storyteller". Just trust me on this.

Not Paprika

Other than Paprika, the most notable song on this album is Be Sweet, an incredibly fun, bass-centric, and danceable song about loving someone, but being unwilling to continue a relationship until they do some self-reflection and become a better person

Recognize your mistakes and I'll let you back in Recognize, not too late, love you always

It's a song that is thematically cohesive within the album, but is musically very much "the hit" of the album. It is a way better project with the song included, but I'd be lying if I said it didn't introduce any sequencing issues, particularly going from Be Sweet itself to Kokomo, IN. It felt like a fun little detour on a road trip that took us off route and was a little logistically awkward, but it was a fun moment.

After the comparatively unremarkable, but otherwise still great, sweet songs Kokomo, IN and Slide Tackle, the album goes in a direction reminiscent of Japanese Breakfast's earlier work on Soft Sounds from Another Planet and the Sable soundtrack (which is great by the way, Zauner's incredible ear for sonic atmosphere makes the game feel so important). The first song to remind me of her previous album is Posing In Bondage, a song which creates an insulated feeling where the narrator begs for "Closeness // Proximity" in the form of the eponymous bondage, which follows very naturally into the similarly cozy and sexual Sit, which is a song about face-sitting, which is fun, as well as the desire and fantasizing of being with someone who is already in a monogamous relationship.

Then we continue this excellent sequencing with a perfectly timed upbeat moment with Savage Good Boy, a track which satirizes the endless pursuit of wealth and pleasure, while also painting a picture of someone who is obsessed with one person and attempts to trap them into a relationship with them, threatening apocalypse and total ruin to do so. The title itself evokes that contradiction of goals and actions, too. The idea of being someone's "Savage Good Boy" implies both domination and self-subjugation, as if being held accountable only on their own terms, with the threat of annihilation lingering over the head of the "loved one" in the form of simply removing the support previously relied on.

One line that I really appreciate for it's subtle reification of the themes (whether it's intentional or not) is the line "we will be so wealthy I'm absolved from questioning". The way the line goes from talking about them as a hypothetical couple and how that would be, to quickly refocusing on what that would do for him, and how he would have so much control specifically is a great touch that works as a fantastic criticism of how this sort of person enters relationships seeing them as something to exploit for their gain more than a real connection.

The way I see it, Savage Good Boy is a song with as much density of meaning as Paprika, even if it doesn't quite hit me as hard as that masterpiece at the start of the album did.

I wanna make the money 'til there's no more to be made And we will be so wealthy I'm absolved from questioning

I said earlier that there was negativity in the album, and if the deranged commitment to constant, selfish positivity that was Savage Good Boy didn't suffice for you, In Hell should. This song has lines that will make your heart feel like you just got hit with a Mortal Kombat fatality. Here's a couple:

Wheeled you in laid on your side I cried and cried And at my signal They stopped your heart and then you died

And under florescence, another sterile room Where no one ever tells you just how clinical death looks And I can't unsee it The two shots it took

It's blunt. It's brutal. It's unfair. It's riddled with unwarranted, but totally understandable, guilt and I for one can't help but feel a whole in my chest where my heart rested before it was savagely torn from me. It's by no means a fun song but it is yet another incredible display of artistry.

Following that, there is a bittersweet reflection on love and loss with Tactics, where Zauner takes a sympathetic look at her dad's... Imperfect reaction to losing his wife to cancer: running away (literally crossing a sea) and marrying someone, seemingly anyone, else. Of course the specific details aren't important to the song, what is important is the, again, bittersweet understanding shown, a sentiment of healthy forgiveness is portrayed. One where the harm is not waved away, but there is a deep peace and understanding about it all, which makes it possible for her to write a very insightful and emotional song about losing someone you love so much and how that can make you act in unpredictable ways.

Then the album ends with Posing for Cars, a song about a romantic contrast, where both the characters in the story love eachother but have very distinct experiences with that love. The protagonist is fairly insecure, dwelling on anxious thoughts of what might happen if the other person left them, while the other person is secure in the relationship. There is a distance in that, but not enough to undermine the love the song evokes. Then the song, and by extension the album, ends on a long, sweet, sprawling guitar solo. It's such a great way to close an amazing album.

Closing thoughts

If I were to sum up my favourite things about this album, I would probably point out the lyrical nuance and emotional maturity that is on display, and the musical atmosphere that Michelle Zauner conjures so immaculately in all her projects (or at least the one's I've heard).

The lyrical nuance is all over the album. It is very common for songs to have at least two perspectives and every time she tackles another one, it usually seems just as validated and fleshed out as her own, with the clear exception, naturally, being Savage Good Boy, where the alternate view is that of an abuser.

As for the atmosphere, it truly needs to be heard to be understood. Every song is a rich tapestry of sound that feeds into itself in awesome fashion.