#like i'm seeing the increase in art and fanfiction

[unreadpoppy]

I feel like the Raphael girlies are getting stronger by the day

[rosellemoon]

Well, I read Soman's post, and I have a few things to say.

First of all, fanfiction.

I'm not surprised to see another published author look down upon fanfiction, treating it as if all it's good for is providing new writers with training wheels. (Never mind the fact that writing someone else's characters is its own unique challenge!)

Fanfiction isn't just someone else's sandbox in which to hone your skills. It's expanding established lore. It's giving more voices and more life to pre-existing characters and worlds. Originality isn't just making something entirely your own, it's also putting your own spin on things, sharing your perspective through fiction that speaks to you and brings you joy on some level. Art is meant to be shared and engaged with and built upon. Art is a collaboration between you and others, and this has been the case for most of human history! I don't mean to offend, but belittling the power and importance of transformative works is just plain ignorance.

The obsession with originality can do more harm than good. Granted, I'm currently working on a novel that has a handful of inspirations yet seemingly no real comps, but that's not why I'm writing it! However, if someone does manage to find an actual comp, I won't care because I'm not writing to be original. That isn't why I write at all!

The real question writers should be asking themselves is: why do you want to be original?

Do you want to feel more special than others? Do you think being original increases your chances of notability? Do you want to go down in history as the Most Original Author of All Time™? These can be valid reasons, but let's be honest with ourselves. Honesty is good. We should embrace that more, even if it makes some of us look egomaniacal.

I'm afraid this emphasis on originality only feeds the stigma around fanfiction and ruins the true joy of writing. It's great to want to do something different because you're bored of the same plots and messages, or you don't find yourself or your perspective represented enough. But that shouldn't require you to give up the tropes or settings you love just because they're familiar.

I also want to address the common disregard for people with aphantasia like me. I don't have full-blown aphantasia, but it's enough that I can hardly visualize my own characters and worlds without external references. I've found my strength lies in "creativity outside the self," as Elaine Sturtevant put it. I'm most creative with things that don't come from within. I love mixing and matching (which especially shows in my digital collages) and seeing where that takes me.

So, fellow writers, ask yourselves: why do you write? What do you want to say? Could it be expressed through fanfiction rather than original fiction? Is being totally original more important than conveying your message/exploring creative what-ifs/simply enjoying the act of creation?

[weirdmorefics]

benedict with a younger sister who he catches at one of the parties he goes to talking to a man who has less than innocent intentions with her and she’s oblivious and just thought it would be a fun place to drink bcs that’s what she’d heard when was out at the park earlier that day

A/N- Sorry for it taking a while I really am starting to believe in the fanfiction curse. I also made up the seedy guy who had unhonorable intentions in this story just an FYI.

Readers Pronouns- She/Her

TW- Sexism

Word Count- 1,653

Summary- Benedict goes to a local gathering of artists and happens to find his darling younger sister enjoying the company of some of Benedict's unsavory friends.

Unhonorable Intentions

I am a rake. I take no shame in this fact. I am allowed to be a free spirit it is my birthright as the second-born son. No obligations no responsibility. I would loathe to be in Anthony's shoes. Though Y/n seems to have made it her mission for me to walk in his shoes tonight. What is she even doing in a place like this? Last I knew she preferred literature over the arts. Yet she hangs on a man's arm as he explains his next work. in progress that he is sure will be his Magnus opus. I glare at them hopefully sister notices my gaze burning into her side so I can continue my night as if nothing happened. However, when I glare at them I realize who the man she is talking to is and now I know there is no way I can continue my night. Unfortunately said man felt my gaze instead of Y/n and smiled and pulled her forcefully along with him.

"Bridgerton! It's grand to see you! We've missed you at the club!" Alexander shakes my hand roughly and I return it with an insincere smile. "Saw you eyeing my new muse, I regret to inform you I don't share." God, I want to gag as I know what he does with his so-called muses. Y/n smiles at being called his muse she does love it when I draw her but this man does not have honorable intentions. He and I have very different definitions of what a muse is. My idea of a muse is someone who inspires you to create, Alexander's idea of a muse is a woman to sleep with and then abandon.

I straighten back to assert my taller posture over the man, "And I regret to inform you your so-called muse is my darling baby sister." I look down at her with demanding eyes, "I do say it is time we get back to Mother. Isn't Y/n?"

She looks taken aback by my tone, "What do you mean? I just got here."

Alexanders' grin increases tenfold, "A Bridgeton! Benedict I had no idea you were hiding such a beauty to yourself! If I was her brother I'd never let her out of the house either." This man is truly revolting the artist community here is unfortunately very small and I have to find a way to remain civil.

Y/n smiles, "So you know Alexander? That's too bad really I was hoping to learn some different art techniques from him to impart to you! I had no idea you knew such a famous artist!"

I grit my teeth, "Famous now Alexander are we?"

This flusters him for a moment but he recovers quickly, "Aren't all artists famous in a different sort of way?"

I want to laugh at such an absurd response… sadly Y/n is far too naive for her own good.

"I agree wholeheartedly! Benedict is the most famous artist in our family! I'm quite jealous of his talent I must admit! It makes sense he would be at such a regal event filled with so much talent. To be truthful I overheard this soiree would have fabulous drinks on this morning's promenade and couldn't resist," she gushes over my talents and breaks my heart for not being more present in my siblings' lives.

Anthony just seemed to have it all handled, Daphne was married off, Eloise could certainly hold her own ground, Francessa was so busy with her studies, and Mother had Gregory and Hycanith under control. Even though Y/n is Eloise's twin she couldn't be any more different she believes the best in everyone and is too quick to forgive in my opinion and Alexander is taking advantage of that and I will not let that stand.

I smile down at Y/n, "Y/n you downplay your own talents no need to associate with a man whose talents consist of preying on women through false pretenses."

Her eyes widen to the size of quarters, "Benedict you can not make such outrageous claims!"

I pretend to not know exactly what she is talking about, "You mean your talents? Your poetry talent is outrageous and that's not a claim it's just a fact."

She blushes at the compliment but for some asinine reason still wants to defend Alexander. Though it seemed her brain could not keep up with the unusual compliment from me and the unflattering words I spoke about Alexander she just stuttered unintelligible anger, shock, and joy all marking her face. Alexander on the other hand was just fuming red.

"First you insult me Bridgerton then you demean poetry as a genre by encouraging a woman to write it." he snarls.

I have never seen Y/n turn so quickly and before anyone in the room knows what's happening a resounding slap is heard over all the chatter and everyone turns to the noise. Alexander's eye is twitching and a red welt in the shape of my sister's hand is forming on his face. He glares at her with murderous eyes but she holds her head high I have never seen her this determined and it makes me wonder what else I missed while she was growing up and I was galavanting around with men like Alexander.

She points an angry finger at him like Mother would when she would scold us, "Gentleman like yourself actually I wouldn't even call men like you gentleman but that's beside the point. Men like you say women are too emotional to do anything but care for the home. Poetry is all about emotion it's supposed to make you feel something like the art you make, or apparently don't make from what I just learned from Benedict's side comment. I would also like to remind you who is in charge of our country or rather what sex they are?"

All eyes are on us and Alexander looks like he might strangle Y/n with his two hands if the vein bulging out of his forehead is any indicator.

"Oh and by the way when I complimented your line work on your latest piece I was lying it was shit but you know how men can be so emotional I didn't want to hurt your feelings," she fake pouted. This is definitely not the young sister I once knew she may still be naive but she has now learned to use her talent with words as a knife.

Alexander's arm shoots to roughly grab her but I am quick to block, "I'm Alexander but we must be going. It was so nice talking to you as always. I would definitely take my dear sister's words under advisement to spend more time working on your line art." I then pull him very closely into my body and if anyone hadn't seen the previous incident they would have thought it was just two chaps hugging. I whisper, "Less time with lines of ladies and coke you might find yourself able to make straight lines. And if I ever hear you laid a hand on my sister I will kill you myself." I roughly release him and he scrambles backwards ungracefully as all eyes on him.

I link arms with Y/n, "Come on we must really be going now."

Once we make it outside away from prying eyes she quickly bursts into sobs, "Gods what have I done! I was just so angry he'd judge me just based on my sex. God, what if Lady Whistledown writes about me!" She starts pacing with her hands on her forehead and this is the Y/n I am all too familiar with, " Oh God what if Mama reads it! What if I ruin the Bridgerton name? Anthony will never forgive me!"

I clap and quickly gain her attention back, "You certainly won't be the first Bridgerton featured in Lady Whistledown and I am certain you will not be the last."

"Not helping!' She shouts back.

"No one will be mad you stood your ground… in fact, I am quite proud of you."

Her eyes study me, "Are you serious? I just slapped your friend in a soiree full of your peers."

"Anthony was more of an acquaintance," I add.

She rolls her eyes, "That is not the point!"

I sigh, "Yes, I am proud. You defended your honor and didn't need my help to do so. Though I am sure any of your brothers would be there in a heartbeat to defend it including me."

She smiles, "You're proud of me."

"I am not saying it again," I state.

she starts to repeat you're proud of me in a sing-songy voice.

"My pride in you is diminishing and my worry is growing. I think I will be around more often seems like Anthony isn't keeping a watchful enough eye on you if he let you go to a seedy event like this."

She tilts her head, "But you were at the event?"

"Exactly I only attend seedy events, though it appears now I must reform. Think of me has your second Anthony," maybe having responsibilities won't be so bad if I get to see Y/n chew out more men like Alexander.

She groans, "I don't want another Anthony how will I ever do anything fun."

"That's the point Y/n," I smile.

She groans, "I hope Lady Whistledown writes you into the story and makes you sound dreadful."

"As long as she writes how daring and smart my younger sister is we will be on good terms," I smile as she groans again at her failed attempt to get under my skin.

"Thank you, I guess," she responds.

I may be late in helping my siblings but at least they all still have some more growing to do and I plan to be there for all of it.

[kopfkino-o]

The Seer's Stone - Chapter 6 (Az POV)

Summary: Azriel is being pushed to his limits, driven half-mad by his increased workload, Koschei’s recent movements, and the unaddressed feelings still hanging between him and Elain. His mind is at war with himself, thoughts and regrets constantly battling with him, but when an old acquaintance comes calling he feels compelled to answer, bound by loyalty and duty he sets off to find what very well might be his own damnation.

Pairing: Elain x Azriel 

Timeline: Post-ACOSF

Wordcount: 1970

Read:

Chapter One | The Crone’s Trade

Chapter Two | The Oracle of Seraphyros 

Chapter Three | Last of Our Kind (Azriel)

Chapter Four | An Empty Seat

Chapter Five | Death and the Lovely Fawn - UPDATED

Author’s Note: Hope you all enjoy! More below 💋

PHEW! After several months of insanity (see: moving to a new city, taking on several new projects at my day job as a graphic designer, getting engaged, traveling to Europe to be in a friend's wedding, hurting my knee again (rip lmao), and the general chaos of being alive) I am so excited to be back writing again. And even more excited to share this latest chapter of the Seer's Stone with the world.

Writing took a back seat within my life last year, due impart to the aforementioned chaos, but also due to some personal anxieties I had about sharing my work. It's irrational, I know, writing is writing, art is art! But still, I found myself lacking confidence and facing a ton of writer's block, but I found some new inspiration through my professional creative work, had a few friends that really helped to cheer me on, and had a lot of downtime after my knee surgery to think about and play around with my craft. All that being said, I'm really really glad to be back at it and revisiting this story, and learning through writing fanfiction.

My plans for the fic haven't changed (too much), but I do think I ought to note that I made some edits to the last update, Chapter Five | Death and the Lovely Fawn, that I feel like I just needed to make to provide clarity/build up for the direction of the story.

Lastly, I just wanted to say thank you to the folks who reached to me about this fic even when I wasn't actively updating it and offered me support/encouragement. This meant so so much to me, more than you all probably know, and I just wanted to say thanks for that.

This one's for you guys.

xoxo, Court

There was a building headache in Azriel's temples.

Every beat of his heart reverberated through his skull like a war drum. Azriel worked his jaw, grinding his teeth. There had always been something about the dank darkness of the Hewn City that pressed down on him like a fist, but the hateful place was particularly grating tonight.

Wrong, his shadows murmured, this place is wrong

"Hush," he snapped back at them, in no mood for their whisperings.

The floor shifted underfoot, and the long, stone passageway changed before his eyes, writhing as if it were a living thing. To anyone else, the illusion might have been nauseating, but these tunnels and their strange enchantments had become second nature to him during the time he served beneath Rhysand's father.

The old High Lord had personally keyed the spells into the oily stone walls to prevent his captives from ever learning the true layout of the tunnel system. And, perhaps, to also remind them they were so far beneath the earth they could only dream of feeling the warmth of the sun on their faces again.

He had been cruel like that.

Azriel rounded a bend in the stone and found himself in another long hallway carved directly into the mountain. Only this hallway was lined with ancient, half-rusted cell doors—cells that housed the worst of the Night Court's filth. Or at least, what was left of them.

Halfway down the corridor, Feyre and Amren were waiting for him outside one of those cells, the High Lady and her second-in-command half-concealed in shadow, their whispered voices echoing queerly off the rock walls.

Both females fell silent when they caught sight of him. Something twisted in Azriel’s gut. For them both to be here, in the dead of the night, with Nyx still so young and Varian here in Velaris on a short respite from Adriata, meant something was wrong. The look on Feyre’s beautiful face only confirmed that. Something was very, very wrong.

“You’re late,” Amren snapped. It was as much a greeting as he’d get from her.

Azriel matched the second’s same cool indifference. “I was in the middle of something when you sent for me. I came as soon as I could.”

“Off again, doing only the Mother knows what? You don’t fool me, boy. I can smell the Continent on you.”

“I come, I go. So is the nature of my work.”

“Is it, now?”

“If you intend to suggest I’m up to something you disapprove of, then by all means, Amren, do so now and let us be done with it. I’m not here to indulge in idle banter.”

The second-in-command bared her teeth, smoke-gray eyes glowing like two torches amidst the gloom, and for half a heartbeat, Azriel thought she might press the matter.

Then Feyre stepped forward and cleared her throat. There were dark smudges of exhaustion beneath the High Lady’s eyes, but she still looked as regal as ever in her Illyrian leathers, her carved ashwood bow and a matching quiver of arrows peeking up over her armored shoulders.

“Enough, you two,” Feyre said, voice laced with nothing but command. She shot both Azriel and Amren a warning look before folding her tattooed hands behind her back, taking up the position of authority fitting of both a war commander and a queen. “We have bigger matters at hand, and I didn’t leave my infant son asleep at home with a nanny just to come here and listen to you bicker.” She nudged Amren with an armored elbow. “So, won't you be a dear and update our lovely Spymaster on the situation at hand?”

Amren shot him one last distrustful look before answering their High Lady's command. "We picked up two...stragglers...trying to make their way to the Prison Isle. From what we've been able to gather, it appears they were attempting to make their way inside the Prison itself."

Azriel's brows rose. Sneak onto the Prison Isle? That was not only impossible, but it was complete and utter madness. A sick, sudden realization shuddered through him, so fierce it cut through the pounding in his head.

Elain.

Elain was trying to get access to the Prison for reasons still unknown to him. Her and the spellspinner she'd tried so diligently to keep hidden in the Library.

Azriel's shadows had brought him word of their machinations weeks ago, initially tipped off by the arrival of the young spellspinner, and catching Elain in his bedroom yesterday had only confirmed his suspicions, but surely she hadn't gone against his warnings. Surely she hadn't...

"Something wrong, boy?" Amren crooned.

He ignored her. "Tell me everything," he said to Feyre.

"One male, one female. Both don't seem to hold any particular court alliance, but they were...dressed strangely. Almost as if they were trying to blend in with the Library's priestesses. Only their robes were gray, not white, and they carried no invoking stones." Feyre scrubbed a hand down her face. "Rhys caught the male on the beaches; I found the female still on the boat they'd used to reach the Isle."

Azriel might have sighed his relief if only Feyre's words weren't too much to stomach. Elain and her friends, and whatever wild plan they'd concocted, might be safe for now, but an unwelcome stranger trying to land on the Prison Isle was nothing to take lightly. And the fact Azriel, nor his shadows, had seen it coming rankled him.

"I tried to talk to her, wanted to know who she was, why she was there," the High Lady continued. "But she pulled a knife before I could get to her. I watched her open her own throat. Tried to heal her, but to no avail, little thanks to the poison on her blade." Feyre shook her head then tossed a thumb towards the cell door. "Rhys is inside with the male. He won't speak, though. He just keeps... singing."

"Singing?" Azriel echoed.

"He means to mock us," Amren murmured.

It was Feyre who ignored the second-in-command now. The High Lady tipped her head towards the cell door. "You'll see." She said. "We'll be waiting at the Riverhouse for your report."

And with that, Feyre reached a hand for Amren and winnowed them both away, leaving Azriel alone with his pounding head, the ancient black stone, and the iron door looming before him.

Azriel drew in a breath. Down, down, down he sank into himself before he strode for the cell door and shoved it open.

The sharp smell of blood and piss and fear arrested his senses as soon as he stepped into the dimly lit cell.

Old memories reared their ugly heads, taking him back to a different time where he came to these very cells to serve a far different lord. Truth-Teller warmed at his side, steadying him. Azriel wrapped a hand around the dagger's familiar hilt and shoved the memories back inside their iron cages to rot.

He made a quick sweep of the room when his eyes finally adjusted. Shadows clung to the corners of the narrow cell, dark enough to conceal his brother's powerful form hidden within them. Rhys was the darkness here. Anyone else might have missed him, but Azriel knew his brother's scent, the sound of his breathing, and marked where he stood in one of the shadowy corners.

In the center of the cell, bound and blindfolded, sat the captive. His gray robes were bloody, his lip split and broken, but he was singing just as Feyre had promised. Singing some horrible old song.

"...blue blood, red blood, blood black as a moonless night," the captive's voice echoed off the cell walls, garbled and made watery by his mouthful of broken teeth. "A pound of flesh, a pound of bone, a gift for a maiden made of light..."

Azriel's shadows swarmed. They flowed across the old stone floors to circle the captive like a pack of hungry dogs, writhing and twisting as they tried to make sense of him and his strange song. Almost as if the song had offended them. As if it scared them.

The darkness melted, and Rhys appeared from within it, arms crossed and brow furrowed, the mask of the High Lord in perfect place. Stars were dancing in his violet eyes, cold and unyielding, burning with a hunger Azriel himself knew all too well.

"He's been at it all night," Rhys said softly. "The same two verses of the same song, over and over again. It's driving me fucking mad."

"You scramble his brains or something?" Azriel asked.

"Would that I could. His mind is impenetrable. Practically walled off with solid obsidian. I've never seen anything like it."

"He's been prepped on how to face a Daemati, then."

"Or spelled to keep one out of his mind."

The words rose a chill within him, and Azriel found himself watching his brother more closely. Rhys worked a tick in his jaw, violet eyes churning as he assessed the battered man babbling his strange song.

"...away, away, at the crown of midnight..."

Azriel had never heard the tune before. Yet, it rankled him somehow. Dragged cold talons through his guts as if it were trying to make a home there.

Pain pricked behind his eyes, blooming like a thousand burning stars.

Azriel rolled his shoulders, fighting the headache, and drew in a deep breath of the rank air, descending deeper into that inside, readying himself for what was to come.

"He'll break," he said softly.

Rhys did not look at him as he replied. "I know."

Eventually, they exchanged the briefest, most fleeting of looks, but the silent words that passed between them meant everything. Rhys's eyes reminded him that Azriel did not have to do this. That he was, in fact, not his father's son. That this Night Court was a court of dreamers, of sons who were forgiven of the sins of their fathers, of daughters free to live as they pleased.

But the weight of duty had been taught to Azriel decades ago. And it was not a lesson so easily forgotten.

Skin slips easier off the smaller bones, blood congeals at the joints, and the mind always, always fractures first.

The old High Lord had taught him those things. Had made sure Azriel knew them, committed them to his memory so he might never forget his purpose. His worth. The thing he'd been made for.

Azriel slid Truth-Teller from its sheath. "Leave us," he said to his brother, voice soft as night. "I'll bring my report to the Riverhouse."

Rhysand put a gentle hand on his shoulder, the gesture made as if it might spare him, as if it might change what he was and the things he was born to do.

It wouldn't.

Azriel had stopped telling himself such follies a long, long time ago.

So he waited until his brother closed the cell door behind him. Waited until his shadows drank the last bit of light from the dank cell. Waited and listened as the prisoner whimpered the last verses of his swan song.

"...a sword for the son, a horn for the Queen, and dagger for their fool..."

Once, when he was just a boy, the shadows had taught him there was a place he could go, somewhere he could hide from his father's wrath, from his brothers' hate. Somewhere deep within himself. A place where he felt nothing, saw nothing.

Was nothing.

Azriel went to that place now, hiding somewhere deep within himself. He thought of roses as he raised Truth-Teller to the pale flesh of the prisoner's chest and began to cut.

Blood bloomed and the ache in Azriel's head erupted like a thunderclap.

And a dagger for the fool.

[aerkame]

I will no longer write for other AUs for Welcome Home (please read in full)

TW: Mentions of NSFW/pedos

I know some people only followed me because of a fic or two I might have started writing on for another Welcome Home AU, but recently I have started to notice the increasing toxicity of the fandom overall. Yeah, I've been other fandoms I know there is toxicity and I know there's a lot of nice people in this fandom, but I have NEVER seen it this bad. Out of all the fandoms/fanbases that I have been in, I have never seen such a huge problem regarding pedos, NSFW art/writing being shared and looked at by minors despite the creator's wishes, general toxic behavior, and a large amount of mentally unwell people working their way into groups of children or safe spaces. I ended up having to delete quite a few NSFW art pieces on twitter because I found minors had seen it and some guy decided to make a comment on my OC Lilith that I was not comfortable with.

I also do not feel alright having to restrict myself on what I write or draw because a single person might be "triggered" or "offended" by it. I know I put warnings when they are needed, I should not have to feel like I'm walking on eggshells in this fandom. I do not need anonymous asks telling me how I should and shouldn't write or what I can and can't say.

Because of how bad it's been and seeing more and more creators leave the fandom, I have decided to no longer engage in other AUs or creators unless it's from a follower (I know you guys are fine), friend, or person I know I've talked with before, OR if it's Clown himself. A lot of people forget that Welcome Home isn't what people keep writing it as. Welcome Home isn't even close to being done, we're just riding off the AUs right now. It really rubs me the wrong way that all I ever see on AO3 now with fanfictions are smut fics mainly and some pretty disturbing stuff.

There is so much, too much, s3xualization in this fandom and the romanticizing of serious and dangerous themes/topics. A lot of times believe or not, when I draw buff characters with no shirts, it really is just anatomy practice. I do not understand some of the comments I get sometimes in my inbox. Yes it's fine to tease a bit, but my goodness some of the comments I have seen before are concerning. I never intend on s3xualizing the characters and yet I always get anon asks going a bit out there with s3xualized comments. It's why I haven't really drawn that stuff in a while. I can't tell if people really do s3xualize that stuff or if they're seeing it as anatomy practice with a bit of tease like I do.

I have been bottling A LOT of things up recently and it's hindered my ability to really write or draw how I want. I'm always scrapping ideas and giving up halfway through.

It's always "Is this something that people are going to s3xualize?" "Is this something that might offend someone in x category?' "Will people like this new character?" "Am I good enough for this topic?". It's not healthy and I know that it affects my creativity and mentality, I won't be restricting myself anymore though. I will write/draw what I want, just please heed my warnings when I put them there and don't ignore my boundaries or the boundaries of others.

Now, regarding my own two AUs (I dropped the Dream one because I have something special planned for TFP), The Finfolk AU and Alive AU. I WILL continue writing/drawing for them. They are my own AUs with my own characters added in them. A lot of people that interact with me are followers and I know you guys would never disrespect my OCs or invade boundaries and I love you so much for that. Of course my rule on requests remain the same. NO NSFW for the normal Welcome Home, but NSFW is allowed for Finfolk AU requests.

Unfortunately, all of this does mean I will not continue the fic I was writing for @clownsuu Mob AU. I'm sorry, I just really do not feel like writing for an AU outside of what I know in terms of the person who makes it. I am not sure how to explain it other than I don't feel alright with it unless it's like an AU from someone I know or at least talked to before? Just at least a person I know on some personal level. I don't want to explore the fandom right now, it is a mess with the people in it...do not take this the wrong way, I DO NOT hate anyone outside of the people I know, I just don't feel comfortable in the fandom at the moment and I will not leave you guys behind either. So in short, I plan to just stay in my own lane so to speak and do what I can for the ones who follow me for what I do.

I will however finish the Villain fanfiction as it's not exactly anyone's AU? Not sure how to explain that, it was a series of asks for it. And obviously I will make a full long fanfictions for the Alive and Finfolk AU.

I know I said I don't want to vent on here, but it's getting hard for me to ignore. Everytime I type or pick up a pencil to make something on here it doesn't feel right.

[toiwen]

Love, Yet The Jedi Code. Foreword

Summary: Their friendship blossomed quickly. It felt as right and completely unexpected as finding your cyber crystal among many others in the Ilum caves.

How they first met was quite spectacular.

Obi-Wan was sure it clearly paved the way. However, the circumstances of their first encounter were unfortunate for him.

He was in trouble. But she helped him avoid punishment for some time. With grace and humor.

Needless to say, what a vivid impression she made on him, the initiate.

Over the years, she never failed to surprise him like she did even before they properly talked. It led them to a dangerous and unstable position where restrictions faded.

And the Jedi Code was broken.

Relationships: Obi-Wan/Original female character

Tags: hurt/comfort, slowburn, fix it, from friends to lovers, canon typical violence

Disclaimer:

English is not my first language. This fanfiction doesn't strictly follow the canon. And I'm a slow writer :)

I love reasonable criticism. So go ahead!

This fanfiction is also posted on ao3.

That's all. Enjoy the chapter!

***

A Jedi initiate Obi-Wan Kenobi walked out of a History classroom, looking pensive at notes on his datepad and then closing them with a tired sigh.

Master Aqwu finally moved from Evolution of AgriCorps to Jedi Code Establishment, which seemed a far more useful and captivating theme to Kenobi. He even asked for additional literature on the subject. However, the creche mates did not share Obi- Wan’s enthusiasm and continued to imitate writing down while they were actually sleeping. He could not blame them for lack of attention. Not when it was clearly visible that Master Aqwu preferred any tedious mission to teaching children the curves of history.

Though it would have been pretty nice to have someone who had heeded the lecture that day. Because Obi-Wan was not capable of shrugging off the incompleteness of the master’s words and texts that were given within the course.

He automatically rounded a corner to exit the Study Wing.

Master Aqwu said that Jedi numbers were much higher. About forty Jedi Temples and other objects like fortresses and libraries were built throughout the Galaxy. In a dozen of them, children were taught Jedi arts. Then the rise of the Sith came and left behind ruins.

Obi-Wan wanted to learn what had gone wrong.

“How did the Jedi of those times miss the increasing threat of the Dark Side?”, he asked Master Aqwu, almost interrupting her monotonous voice.

The master gave him a slightly exasperated look, he recalled. Obi-Wan’s curiosity was somewhat insatiable that day.

Kenobi knew he was slightly unbearable that day and did not stop.

Master Aqwu always praised interest despite her own lack of involvement. So Kenobi did not restrain himself from asking questions. It cost him several eye rolls from peers and a bit of overwhelming awkwardness, which did not really matter.

“As I mentioned before”, Master Aqwu stressed, “the techniques of the Sith had not been fully examined before this massive attack. For instance, merging with the Force and not being exposed was one of them. The Dark Side kept their whereabouts, relocations, and schemes in a strict secret as well. Even followers themselves didn’t know every detail. Few who knew didn’t dare to spread information, fearing awful consequences”.

Obi-Wan frowned.

“But to destroy Temples they needed a decent amount of support. It is impossible to control what so many recruits and allies say. Something might have slipped”

“Pieces of details did”, the master nodded.

“Operations were organised on the basis of it”, she added, noticing the inquisitive glances of woken initiates.

“I see. And what kind of operations?”, Obi-Wan enquired politely.

“Well, mostly collection of information, spying missions included. It was vital not to cause panic, so our predecessors adhered to quiet politics”.

“I suppose it was a way to handle the situation”, Kenobi agreed cautiously, and did his best not to give out scepticism in his voice.

Fortunately his attempt was successful. Aqwu smiled kindly and renewed the lecture.

Obi-Wan passed by the windows. Outside them, the metal and glass of Coruscant were blazed with sunset light. He glanced at the beauty of it.

Kenobi repeated the lesson in his head to clarify if he understood correctly. The Jedi were taken aback because they did not act against the Sith openly.

Did they only make sorties to enjoy the sight of the evil Sith doing their shady deals? This passive behaviour sounded unreasonable. Not the way of the Jedi at all. Obi-Wan hoped to find answers in archives and books. In this case, he wished to be wrong in his assumptions.

Kenobi decided to hold the reading and headed to the training rooms down the hall. They must be gone by now, but he did not mind being on his own.

However, he was not the first person to think that one late practicing was good that day.

Apparently, the first one was supposed to be Bruck Chun.

Kriffing Kenobi’s luck.

“Hello-hello, Oafy-Wan. What can I see? Have you come to train your saber skills? I’m afraid it’s useless, my dear friend. Firstly, you will be sent out soon. Secondly, let’s remember that you’ve been incapable from birth. Considering your midi-chlorians and all.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes flashed with anger. He was sick of the everyday mockery of him. Often his friends were caught in the middle of it. Bruck always slithered into his mind and bit vulnerable parts like a snake. It would have been wiser to cope with him as such.

Kenobi barely contained himself from a bunch of good insults.

“Well, if I’m incapable, what are you doing here? You were here before I came”, he replied curtly, clenching fists.

Obi-Wan turned on his heels for tactical retreat. He was not in the mood for a word fight.

Bruck was not either. He despised Kenobi and did not need more to ignite his lightsaber.

“I’m here because I was guided by the Force to beat your arse”, Chun snickered and lunged.

Obi-Wan expected it and grabbed his weapon just in time to strike away Bruck’s blow.

The opponent recoiled and targeted Kenobi’s leg. Obi-Wan met the other boy’s blade, stepped back to keep distance, and redirected his lightsaber to the opened left arm. Chun parried and moved towards the rival. Obi-Wan meticulously exchanged Bruck’s attacks to his blocks.

And the track of time was lost in sparring in the empty hall.

Bruck saw that Obi-Wan was choosing mostly to catch his lightsaber hits than to make onslaughts himself. Chun pushed harder. Kenobi stubbornly raised his blade again and again, meeting blows without a miss. He played the game of waiting and reacting, no matter how tiring it was. Obi-Wan knew for sure it would lead to the win when Bruck could not carry on at full strength.

Obi-Wan firmly ducked Chun’s saber and drew his weapon above the rival’s torso to strike hard. But he quickly discovered that he should have defended longer.

Bruck’s blade swirled swiftly and jabbed his opponent’s arm. Obi-Wan hissed in pain and suppressed the urge to grasp the injured limb.

He sensed Bruck’s triumph flowing around in the Force. Kenobi cursed his impatience and the fear of being punished for fighting. Obi-Wan ignored the bitterness inside. He tried to calm down. Kenobi repeated “there is no emotion, there is peace” several times and swung his blade to cross it with Chun’s.

Obi-Wan called the Force to assist him, gritting his teeth when it was for naught.

He clashed his lightsaber against the aggressive blade of his rival. Bruck’s forehead was wet from the sweat. Kenobi could make a guess that he was not in a better shape either. Especially when his arm began to ache more. But the hope of lasting enough to win was still with him.

Obi-Wan watched Chun’s attacks closely and tried not to lose faith. After multiple moves from Bruck, Kenobi’s opponent indeed appeared to be less and less precise. Obi-Wan allowed himself to feel a bit happy about it.

Then Bruck suddenly stopped strikes. He stretched his arm forward, trying to knock down Obi-Wan with the Force.

Kenobi barely stayed on his feet. Obi-Wan was about to meet the wall by his back as he desperately attempted to dive into the Force. Obi-Wan closed his eyes. He let the Force envelop and guide him. Kenobi took a deep breath. He found it.

Obi-Wan hit the floor harshly and jumped to the height of the huge doors which lead to the training rooms. He never leapt this high.

Kenobi flipped in the air several times. His head was clear despite the spins he was making. The Force hummed pleasantly. It assured Obi-Wan of the rightness of what he was doing.

So when Kenobi launched, he stood firmly. Chun’s stance gave him an opportunity, and Obi-Wan did not hesitate. He pressed his blade against Bruck’s dominant arm with an abrupt swing. Chun yelped. A boy who taunted Obi-Wan dropped his lightsaber.

Obi-Wan summoned it and smiled broadly, not believing himself. Bruck’s weapon laid heavily in Kenobi’s hand. Obi-Wan looked at Chun's lightsaber hilt. It was a blue, shining material with twisted vines on it. There were few scratches on the handgrip.

“What a scruffy guy you are”, Kenobi teased, raising an eyebrow.

Bruck’s shock was still evident on his face. Soon, it was replaced with his hot shame.

“Don’t think you’re the best if you win once, Kenobi”. Chun spitted out.

He snatched his lightsaber out of Obi-Wan’s grip and walked away mad. His strides were long, as if Bruck hurried to get out of this hall. Obi-Wan thought it was hilarious.

He smiled even more broadly when Chun kicked the carpet on the floor.

But right after it, Kenobi’s high spirits ended sharply.

He saw how Bruck’s figure was tilting. Chun stumbled, collapsing on the floor with a thud. Obi-Wan ran towards him. Kenobi shook Bruck’s shoulder and called out his name.

Silence was the only reply.

Obi-Wan panicked. The air was sucked out of his lungs. The skin of Bruck became bluish.

They were rivals, yes, but he did not wish Chun dead.

He looked around, disoriented, and lowered to Bruck.

"The Halls of Healing were pretty far from here," the reminder raced in Obi-Wan’s head.

He measured Chun’s pulse. It was unsteady.

“It means you must move, Obi-Wan”, Kenobi ordered himself, putting his palm on Bruck’s back.

“Alright, let’s get...let’s get you to...”, Obi-Wan whispered to no one in particular.

Kenobi pulled Chun’s body to take him, brushing aside the pang in his injured arm when someone with really long hair rushed past him.

It was a girl dressed in fancy robes. Surprise filled Kenobi’s eyes.

“Leave him on the floor”, the girl got down and rolled up her sleeves.

“I’ll help him”, her voice sounded so confident that he obeyed.

Obi-Wan did not know what to do with his hands.

What if he went too far in the sparring.

What if he should have let Bruck win.

The girl lifted Bruck’s legs and bent them at the knees. She slackened Chun’s collar of his Jedi apparel. The girl rested her hand on his chest. Obi-Wan, who stood frozen until this sight, turned away, feeling oddly embarrassed.

“How long does your friend have problems with his heart?”, she asked, almost demanding.

The girl met his gaze, which he had brought back to see the passed out boy. Her irises were yellow. Obi-Wan dismissed the stupid Sith association, thinking about what she had just said.

Worry sank in his mind. He frowned.

“What? The heart problem?”, he encountered himself struggling with words and cleared his throat.

Instead of continuing the talk, she closed her eyes. The air buzzed as the swarm of invisible insects dashed to the girl’s pressed palm. The Force concentrated around her fingers. Obi-Wan stared in awe as waves of energy seeped past him to her. The skin tone of Bruck was lightning to normal colour.

“His heart beats as it should”, the girl breathed out in relief and distanced from Chun.

Kenobi noticed the tremble of the girl’s hands before she hid them in the rich fabric of her clothes.

At the end of the hall, several figures accompanied by droids came out. A woman and a man floated graciously behind Master Yoda. Their robes were embroidered with the same patterns the girl wore.

The girl and Obi-Wan hurried to stand up.

Master Yoda spoke up first.

“Lucky we are today. All the missed children we at once have found”, he chuckled.

“Obi-Wan, what misfortune with Bruck has occurred?”

“He fainted, Master Yoda”, Kenobi said, deciding not to elaborate.

Obi-Wan realised his brevity was spotted immediately. However, he could not help but want to keep himself unexecuted longer.

“I see”, Yoda hummed, “to the Halls of Healing you should Bruck take”.

Obi-Wan bowed and moved to Chun, but the girl politely intruded.

“Master Yoda, if my experience, not so extensive as it is currently, is any indication of how to treat patients, you should leave the passed out boy on the floor for some time. Otherwise, it can lead to repeated fainting as the passed out boy evidently suffers from heart disease. He will need a rest and a full examination. I’m sure his friend Obi-Wan will give the boy a hand as he tried to do when I came here. He will take the passed out boy to the Halls of Healing when he wakes. I suppose it’s necessary as my parents and I are needed to take care of the health of one of your masters. I deeply apologise for causing an obstacle through my absence. I heard many wonderful stories about Jedi Temple and wished to see it personally as soon as possible”.

She deeply bowed, imitating Obi-Wan’s manner. Her parents shared a smile with each other, albeit secretly and not ruining their composure. Master Yoda seemed amused as well, rubbing his chin.

Obi-Wan was quite flustered. His thoughts were darting. The girl called Bruck “the passed out boy” several times, even though she remembered Obi-Wan’s name from Yoda’s words. Obi-Wan swore she mocked Bruck.

But most importantly, the girl saved him from being punished. Not entirely, yes, but she did it.

And she did it for him.

Obi-Wan blushed and tried to conceal it.

“I should apologise for my long talking as well, I assume”, she said sheepishly, “it might have been tiring to listen”.

“Long you were speaking but making good points you were”, Yoda calmed the girl.

“Your advice we should listen. Obi-Wan, wait when Bruck wakes up and to the Halls take him. And I our guests will lead”.

The group proceeded, now the girl closed the procession. She winked at him and turned away.

Obi-Wan strangely felt warm.

[olderthannetfic]

In response to the AI author person - I’m glad these tools are helping you, but, with all due respect, I’m still scared shitless that companies are going to replace actual writers with people like you, or, once technologies like chat GPT improve, AI itself. And this angers me because it shows that corporations (who already control many avenues of entertainment) don’t value the arts. In fact, there’s been a mysterious increase in slashing funds for art and writing programs in schools across the country, so it isn’t just corporations - it’s everyone in power these days.

It’s turning art even more into an industry about money, rather than creativity. The Entertainment and writing industries already discourage invention in creative works in favor of generating profit through repeating things that have already sold. And I’m so, so scared I’m going to see that mentality spread to FanFiction. Because even though it doesn’t sell, per se, certain tropes already gain more views than others - and that’s a currency in itself.

And Art isn’t just something to create or consume - it’s a catharsis. A release. A way to teach people important lessons through metaphor and narrative - especially in works that are genre-defying (or even genre-defining.) Bur the rise of ChatGPT and AI shows that the people championing and promoting this technology don’t want us to truly learn from writing and art anymore. They might not realize this, but they’re letting people in power incentivize us to blindly believe whatever BS they’re selling us - which generally serves to line their pockets and make everyone else poorer - in exchange for further convenience.

And don’t get me started on the ethics of data scraping. Really. Don’t. But even if AI has helped you, it’s hurting more people than it helps overall, and I think that’s what matters.

--

Art has been made mass market many a time, and all it does is spur more pastoral fantasies and movements to value traditional hand crafts.

I'm not saying there's no danger, but people like individual artists because they feel like they have an emotional connection with that person's art or maybe the artist themself.

The solution is for consumers to personally reject corporate crap. It doesn't require everyone. It just requires little communities of people.

--

Things are bad, but they aren't worse than for your average person caught up in England's industrial revolution. Advertising is plastered everywhere. Wages are shit. Pollution is epic. Culture is changing. Cities are filled with isolated, disconnected people.

We've been here before.

[ashensgrotto]

Time for a Heart to Heart chat on where I stand as a writer

Alright. I need to get this out in the open and cover my butt before someone starts an anti-ashensgrotto page.

I'm sure many of you are aware - there has been several posts going around about a couple of members in the Twst fandom that post certain styles and types of art - I'm not going to say who or what they draw or post nor the people I'm seen make posts about them because that's not fair to myself, the posters, or the creators. I will say, some people in the fandom find this particular style of art uncomfortable and have blocked the artist - and announced it on their blog.

The problem I have is that some of these people are forgetting that these are characters in a game, not real people. I get that the character reference sheets have specific ages for each character - however, in fandoms specifically, there are going to be a few people that will increase the character's ages to make it more closer for consent. That is something I do myself when I write out my stories, I'll admit - I head cannon most of the characters to be between the ages of 19 and 25 when I write out these stories. And - in the case of Raison D’être - the female lead is at the age of 19 and the others are immortals around the ages of 500 to 1,000 years old, though they might look between the ages of twenty and twenty-five or a little older.

The reason why I'm also putting this out here is because I DON'T agree with many concepts I write out and I SPECIFICALLY put WARNINGS on all of my works and give fair warning to those who might take offense. I write the way I do because it allows me to explore my creativity and see how far I can go with some things as well as develop my skills as an author/fanfiction writer. I can write with the guidelines that have been set for these characters - but that's what they are. Guidelines, not rules.

And it's not just the Twst fandom either - every fandom has something like this and yes, it's not okay in the real world and as long as you know and understand that, please give the creator the ability to express their love for the fandom in a way they can. You don't have to follow them, or like their art or writing, or whatever.

But please use common sense and be respectful - you have no idea what someone is experiencing on the other side of the screen. Their art or writing might be their only escape from reality because their life literally sucks.

I know I might lose some followers because of this - but that's okay. You guys do what you need to do and I will do what I need to do; I will continue to post my warnings on my works for all of you to know before you read my works. I will also make sure to tag things so that if any of you have a tag that is blocked, my piece does not show up for you in the feed.

Thank you for reading this message and I will see all of you shortly in the next piece.

[moonies-artpad]

Sally Face x DBD

I already posted this art another time, but I decided to redo it and make it a little better(debatable). This is all because I am finally making this stupid little concept into a fully fledged fanfiction!

Here's the new artwork for The Plague of Shadows:

The survivors are Sal and Larry (as well as Ashley and Todd, but I'm too lazy to draw them too), and the killer is the Red-Eyed Demon. The map is (obviously) Addison Apartments, and I'm even working on cute little charms to go with this concept, as every DBD DLC has at least one or so charms to go with the characters. I'm thinking about doing Gizmo and the Super Gearboy, but it might change by the time I actually get around to doing it.

Here's the actual perk loadouts I have for all of them;

Sal:

The Forgotten Ballad - When a survivor is downed within 5/10/15 meters of you, you gain a 10/15/20% haste effect. Only after reviving the survivor does the effect persist for 10/15/20 seconds for both you and your teammate. Once it's over, the Exhaustion effect activates for 20 seconds.

"I can't believe this is real. I can't believe you're really gone." - Sal Fisher

Shadow - After years of dealing with the supernatural, you've learned to work with the other side. When Shadow is active, you gain a 20/30/40% chance of not being detected by a killer's sense ability (if the killer has one), and crows are less likely to fly away in your presence. Shadow will not activate if you are wounded, affected by the Broken status, or if you are the last survivor.

"Leave me and my five teeth alone." - Sal Fisher

Spiritual Empath - You have a unique connection to the supernatural and have learned how to hone it and use it to your advantage. When a generator reaches 40%, Spiritual Empath activates and you have the ability to call upon a spirit from the other side to create an audio and visual distraction. Spiritual Empath can only be used twice in a single trial.

"It's okay, Mrs. Sanderson. Go hide." - Sal Fisher

Larry:

Delinquency - You're known for your criminal record, and you're not afraid to get your hands dirty. After being hooked once, Delinquency will activate and the next time the killer comes near you, a skill check will appear and you can stun them for a few seconds by throwing a rock at them. Delinquency can only be used once per trial.

"I tried to talk to that detective, but he wouldn't listen to me without evidence. As if my word isn't enough." - Larry Johnson

The Other Side - You may not be dead, but your connection to the Other Side is uncanny. You can see the aura of your allies within 7/13/20 meters of you, and if the Obsession is injured, you will see their aura no matter what. The Other Side will not activate if you are the Obsession in the trail.

"Let's put an end to these fuckers." - Larry Johnson

Time To Go - You sacrifice yourself for those you love. When taking a protection hit after unhooking a survivor, you will not be affected. The next time you are hit, you will be put into the dying state.

"It can't rain all the time." - Larry Johnson

The Plague of Shadows:

Power - Spiritual Infection

You have the ability to grasp what is beyond the reach of others. The more you wound the survivors, the greater your hold on them becomes. Spiritual Infection begins at the start of the trial and continues to grow with each hit you make on a survivor, filling the gauge 5% each time a basic attack lands.

Special Attack - Possession

Possession allows the Plague of Shadows to temporarily take control of a ghost on the map to scout the map or deal extra damage to survivors. Possession initially lasts 10 seconds, but increases by an additional 3 seconds with each successful attack.

Healing Alters

Survivors can cure themselves of the infection by healing alters scattered around the map. The alters will reset the infection to 0%.

Flesh and Blood - Your hatred of humanity drives you and teaches you things others cannot see. When activated, Flesh and Blood allows you to receive a visual and audio cue from one survivor within 3/8/15 yards of your Terror radius. Flesh and Blood has a 120 second cooldown.

Sick Tricks - You are cunning, manipulative, and all around twisted. You thrive on the discomfort and terror of others. When Sick Tricks is active, you can create a visual hallucination for the survivor of one of your victims, causing them to scream and reveal their location. Sick Tricks can only be activated 3 times per trial.

Scourge Hook: The Dark - You're not the only one who can cause harm. Four random hooks will become Scourge Hooks. When a survivor is unhooked from a Scourge Hook, the following effects apply:

The survivor is affected by the Blindness and Broken status effects for 15/20/25 seconds.

When healed, the survivor suffers from Exhaustion and Hindered for 7/10/13 seconds.

Weapon - The Hand of Infection

The backstories for each character:

Sal -

After getting the concerning texts from Larry, Sal had feared the worst and gone to the apartments to find him. After realizing he had unfortunately taken his own life, Sal was left in shambles.

Todd and Sal realized that Larry's body was strangely not in the tree house, they began to test out the guitar modified by the necrolight. Sal meets Mrs. Rosenberg and she reveals to him that Larry wasn't actually dead, instead in a place she calls the "in between". She is able to get Larry's spirit released from the fog just long enough to help Sal get to the Endless One.

When finally meeting with the Endless One, Sal is shocked and horrified to realize that it was Mr. Addison all along. During the fight with the Endless One, Sal finds himself becoming more and more enraged over all the pain and suffering caused by this creature, the cult, and the Red-Eyed Demon.

After the Endless One is defeated, Sal sees a strange black fog slowly creeping in from under the door. Before he can even inspect it, the fog consumes him and he wakes up in a cold, dark, and unnerving forest. Confused and worried, Sal sees the glow of a campfire in the distance and hears Larry's voice. Sal immediately follows his voice and finds Larry with a group of survivors.

Though it's not the most pleasant experience, Sal has some hope that he'll be able to help his team survive and help them get out.

Larry -

He'd been fighting it for a few days. The hunger, the anger. At first he thought it was just munchies or something, but after it persisted, he realized what it was.

Trying to be normal for Sal and everybody else, Larry finally just gave up. He decided it was better to just leave than stay and possibly become possessed by the demon. What he didn't expect was passing out after drinking way too much alcohol and waking up in the woods.

It wasn't Wendigo Lake, that was for sure. It was too healthy, too perfect. But he saw the campfire and he began walking. He walked until he came across a group of people, people who were lost and trapped in this strange realm.

Now Larry gets to learn how to try and fight for those he cares about again.

Ashley -

A week after Larry's supposed death and Sal's disappearance, Ash went to the apartments to find some clues. As soon as she entered Larry's old apartment, now abandoned, she found a strange fog everywhere.

Instead of being afraid, she decided to walk directly into the fog, hoping that she'd find the boys.

Todd -

He was worried. First Larry, then Sal, and now Ash? It was like one big joke that he just didn't get. How do three people suddenly go missing? There hadn't been any spikes in paranormal activity, and the cult hadn't do anything for years. However, when he looked into it, he did find a spike in matter displacement.

That made no sense, though. How could that be happening? Well, he didn't have to wonder long before the Fog consumed him as well.

The Red-Eyed Demon -

It just wasn't fair. For years, the demon could roam free and do whatever it so pleased. And then Alyson out it in containment, which didn't last forever, of course. But the demon was so sure that it had free reign once again to torture the humans and spirits, but that damn teenager just kept ruining everything!

So when it was forced into hiding again, the demon was livid. A teenager destroyed its chances and it would never happen again. After its return, it found Sal being taken by the Fog. It wasn't fair. Sal was not supposed to leave without being punished first. So the creature followed.

It followed Sal into the fog, joining the Entity's sick game in order to torture Sal over, and over, and over again. This was the retribution that was needed.

When I get the artwork for the map and the charms done, I'll release them too. As for right now, I'm focusing all of my time and effort on writing the fic while I have free time. I'll also be releasing more content later when I have the time, such as some key points for DBD, the relationships between the characters, and such. I'll also release the information for when the fic goes live at the end of this week.

[chemdisaster]

this is probably going to be an unpopular opinion, but some of you seriously need to relax and shut the fuck up about rpf.

i've seen an increasing amount of people in the hermitcraft and life series fandoms with "not the real people" in their pinned who seem to act like they're somehow better than those who do create/consume rpf. and you guys seriously need to get off your high horse right the fuck now and realise that when properly tagged and not forced on anyone, rpf hurts no one. and this goes for all art that commonly gets looked down on in this fandom, darkfic and non con and kinkfics and whatever else. if something is fictional, if it's properly tagged, if it's not forced on anyone - it hurts no one because it's fiction. more than that, it's art. you cannot and should not place boundaries on creativity. not only does that kind of thinking have serious real life consequences that i won't go into right now, but even within fandom spaces all you will end up doing is hurting the very people you often claim to want to protect.

most of the time i've seen this kind of attitude, it's been exhibited by younger people. and i would just like to remind you - you know how you can admit to writing fics and not be criticised and shamed for it? you know how fanfiction is a widely spread and common thing now? you know how nowadays you don't need to put an "i don't own x" disclaimer in your fic? yeah, the rpf people helped do that. obviously i can't speak for every community as i am just one person in my own tiny corner of the globe, but part of what helped me come to think of fanfic as something normal and not something i had to hide was getting used to the idea of rpf. it was frerard and those fics where someone gets sold to one direction and the normalisation of the 14 year old girl writing fanfics where she marries her crush and has three kids.

you people seem to view rpf as this big disgusting thing that god forbid anyone thinks i engage in or condone. and it makes me think of how i would write fanfiction about my swimmates and show it to them, and we'd all laugh about it. when i was a kid i would imagine myself being friends with celebrities and create fictional problems for them so i could provide emotional support. i still, on occasion, hyperfixate on real people and imagine myself interacting with them somehow. in fact, most of the time in my own head is spent daydreaming about various made-up situations including people i know or used to know, because that is simply how i deal with the real world, my form of escapism and just something i do to keep my messy brain occupied. what i'm getting at here is that rpf is normal. it's not this big awful sin. there is literally nothing remarkable whatsoever about the idea that someone would see something in real life and be inspired to turn it to art.

you get nothing from throwing other people also part of your community under the bus when there are those who would get rid of you all. you get nothing from being a dick, from spreading shame and disgust and assigning moral weight to things that cause zero harm. your knee-jerk reaction at something that makes you uncomfortable is not the end all be all of what's right and what deserves to exist. so i pray you, get over yourself, stop acting like you're better than everyone else and shut the fuck up about rpf.

[irithnova]

Honestly sometimes I feel like I'm tokenizing myself in debates about representation when I have to state that I'm a Southeast Asian/Filipina woman. I'm half white but I'm not white passing (I'm Southeast Asian/East Asian passing to those who don't know me).

Like, I can totally imagine people rolling their eyes at me when I say that but I shouldn't have to feel this way. I've had to navigate this fandom space as a person of colour for over 6 (well, this year I'm actually gonna be a 8 year hetalia fan... fml) years and not only that but as an Asian person who is primarily interested in Asian countries. Add in the fact that I've been a Mongolia bias for almost just as long and then can you understand my frustration at the representation/lack of representations Asians get in this community?

Perhaps I wouldn't mind the little representation as much if people weren't so blatant about how racist they are in the representation that they do give to Asians:

People making fucking racist covid jokes about China when Chinese and even just East Asian people are literally being pushed in front of trains in hate crimes that have increased due to covid, fanfictions that reek of orientalism, art that makes Asians look like caricatures which rivals that of ww2 anti Japanese propaganda, ignoring the canon and major Asian characters to replace them with minor white ones, for Mongolia as a Mongolia bias: the unnecessary demonisation of him.

Like. Ignoring them is one thing and yes it's incredibly annoying, especially when people go out of their way to ignore popular Asian characters. But the racism in the representation we do get is unreal. People are a better at it nowadays compared to back then but some people are still so blatant about it, and even when confronted about it, they still refuse to see the error in their ways.

I'm not saying you have to reblog and like every post of every non white character for the sake of it, I don't even do that, but I'm just pointing out how egregious it is when someone rightfully calls someone out on their racist depiction and blatant ignorance of non white characters and they try to make excuses.

[gaypiratebrainrot]

Man. I have SO many thoughts about the secret fic. I am utterly fascinated. I read it all last night and want to reread to get my head around it. But just initial thoughts here:

I've seen in some of your responses to questions that it is partially an exploration of your own discomfort with RPF and that the backlash is part of the art and like - bravo. Yes. I can't help but see all of the outrage on Twitter and remember that these are the same people who:

•Harass and bully Rosie Darby constantly and screenshot/post her tweets to be mocked for the people in the fandom she has blocked

•Create and pass around nasty memes of Rita Ora

•Speculate about Rita and Taika's sex lives/assume he just uses her for sex

•Openly talk about the sex acts they'd like to do to these two actors

•Incorporate details about real actors into their fictional versions constantly

•Ship Anton/Viago because they're played by the same actors as Stede/Ed

•Draw graphic porn of these actors using references of their real bodies with their real faces

•The list goes on

And I don't bring this all up to play the blame game or justify RPF (although I think the shit with Rosie and Rita is insane and so embarrassing) because in my old age - I think I deep down am not comfortable with RPF even though I have not shaken the temptation yet. I bring this all up to say that the righteous outrage seems to be coming from a lack of self-awareness and just a lot of folks who are really clinging to the idea that their version of fandom is Right and Good. I guess my point is that I think all fanfiction/fanart/fandom is somewhere on the spectrum of invasiveness and most people refuse to accept that about their own art because we're all convinced we're the good guys in the story. And it doesn't help that this fandom seems particularly hellbent on finding bad guys.

ANYWAYS

Amazing job. Totally original and fascinating. Truly. Really proud you published it and are weathering the storm. If you need to talk about anything or are having a tough time w/ the backlash, feel free to message me <3

hi!! thank you so so much for this amazing message!! i'm so delighted that people besides me are able to appreciate the bonus meta built into the backlash, it's giving me insane brain vibes lol.

i did about fifty million meta levels of analysis on my own discomfort while writing this fic and am full of thoughts. i have no desire to say that fiction about real people is good or bad because i honestly just don't think about the world that way anymore. what i can say is that fiction about real people exists, has existed probably as long as language/storytelling, and will very likely always exist.

human beings talk about each other. we tell stories about each other. gossip is probably as essential to humanity as dance or music. it is an incredibly uncomfortable reality that every single person who knows you has a version of you in their head that you have no control over. that we all exist as our own embodied experience AND as all of the ways we are perceived. one of the more challenging aspects of being a human, i'd say.

to be a celebrity, or have any kind of audience, is to increase the number of heads you exist in, and as i am presently experiencing for the first time on a small scale between the last fic and this one, this comes with all sorts of uncomfortable, messy problems.

however, the other function of this fic is as a free speech tool. let's say we decide the uncomfortable mess of real person fiction is harmful enough to ban it from being published, either on Ao3, or within our legal system. would you ban this fic and why? and if you would ban this fic, how much of what parts would i have to change before it would be allowed? who would get to choose the "correct" answer to those questions, and who would be reading the fic and deciding whether or not it fits the "correct" guidelines? do you want to give someone else the ability to make that choice for you?

people would have been more pissed off if i'd used taika's kids actual names. but what if i'd named his kids sasha and malia obama? what if i'd used the trump kids? cause if you're banning real person fiction, all three gotta go.

ultimately, i think the parts of me that are really uncomfortable with what i've written feel like i've been horribly rude and disrespectful to the people i love, and honestly, i feel like there's some truth to that. it's just one truth among many, many, many other simultaneous truths, including my belief that the wrestling i did in writing this is important and worthwhile wrestling, and i'm absolutely ecstatic to see i was able to inflict that wrestling upon so many of you <3

[tori-artemis]

To anyone who may be following me, to any of my mutuals who happen to see this,

I've posted a few articles about Iran, because I've become increasingly concerned about the situation over there. There was legislature proposed last July about a permanent internet shutdown, and as feared, it really looks like the Islamic Republic of Iran has since pushed it into law, or they're about to, despite having many Iranian citizens opposed to it.

There have been many protests in Iran over the insane increases made to prices of food products such as wheat and dairy, going far back since the beginning of May up til now, and not only has the government shut down the internet entirely during those weeks, but it's also been "cracking down" - as in, beating protesters on the street, throwing tear gas at them, and even opening fire at them (gun shots were heard).

And the internet shutdowns make it nearly impossible for Iranians to post videos documenting this on social media, and expose the regime's corruption and abuse of power. Their internet is heavily monitored by the govt. - certain websites are outright banned (such as Tumblr). They're not allowed to post their own opinions, or anything pro LGBTQIA, let alone even the slightest criticism of the regime, and the punishments they face for doing so are extremely severe. Against-human-rights-level-of-severe. As of now, these people are literally being silenced.

Before I continue, I just want to state that I don't know everything that's happening over there, far from it in fact - this is just from what I've read, and I might even have gotten a few details wrong. It's why I've been posting links to various articles, because I'd rather not have people solely take my very limited knowledge on the situation. If you can, please read some of the articles I've posted, or look into Iranian current news on your own.

If anyone is wondering about why I'm writing about something happening across the world from where I live: well, for one, this is something we should all probably get into the habit of doing, if only because Iranian people deserve our attention. So many posts were made about Ukraine and the devastating war over there, and rightly so, but Iranians are no less important than Ukrainians, and what's being done to them by their own government is genuinely horrific. Awareness needs to be brought to what's happening in Iran right now, we all should be spreading this as much as we can.

But another reason why I'm writing this is because... I know there have been many Iranians who have used Tumblr. Despite the regime's control, despite the banning of this site and many others. Iranian people have been on Tumblr, have been within our fandoms. Have played a huge part in those fandoms. There's a high chance you're following an Iranian person's blog right now, or are even mutuals with some. There are Iranian people who have posted beautiful fan art and written deep, poignant fanfiction. Iranian people who have written the most insightful meta of your favorite movies, shows, and characters that you've ever read. You're probably subscribed to them on AO3. And if you're like me - you've probably befriended them.

Which brings me to the heart of why I'm writing this at 2 am in the morning - bc they're not just random people on the other side of the globe - they're our friends! They're our favorite writers, and artists, and even outside of fandom, there's a chance you may have interacted with them, joked with them, sent them asks, shared shit posts and memes with each other. There's a high chance you know an Iranian person on this site, and you may have even noticed that they haven't posted in a while.

Because they can't. Because they're literally being silenced right now.

And what's the point of being on this site, what's the point of befriending all of these amazing people if we aren't even going to... make an effort to see how they're actually doing? To spread awareness to the infuriating injustices they're facing right now? Bring a light to all of the horrible things this damned regime is doing to them? Especially when they are literally being forcefully prevented from doing so at this time. We can't just ignore them now, while they're being silenced by a totalitarian regime.

And tbh... I'm not sure if this will actually impact anything in the end. I don't know if this will actually help them, I don't know if spreading the word will even do anything. I'm almost afraid that it might not. But it's the least we can do. Instead of just remaining blissfully ignorant, or worse - apathetically shrugging it off and just going about our day. We should at least try... we owe it to them to at least try, if nothing else.

We owe it to the people of Iran.

We owe it to our friends.

[animehouse-moe]

I'm terrible with timeliness and acknowledging things, but I hit 300 followers on Tumblr a couple of days ago now, which I thought was pretty cool. The conditioned response is a "thank you", but that doesn't feel right (and not in a selfish way, at least I believe). It's really cool that 300 people actually follow me and this account on a platform as I talk about anime and manga and whatnot, but it's one of those things where the longer I think about it the more I wonder as to why.

It's not like I offer anything unique with my stuff. I don't post art or fanfictions or anything that I can say is my creativity alone. As far as I see it, I'm just a crazy person scribbling away at a wall in an empty and white room. But I also don't really make any attempts to humanize myself in a lot of what I share, mostly because I struggle with riding the line between getting my point across effectively and in a meaningful fashion, and sounding like a person instead of an AI-generated response.

So maybe I should try a little to express myself some more, starting now.

I never intended to ever make something like this, nor do a lot of people. I was a university student over 2 years ago now that wanted to work on a project, but I needed a direction, a purpose. I deeply struggle with creation without reason, so I tried to find a way to drop a carrot in front of my face to encourage progress. A blog website is a very simple and easy thing to build to fill out your project portfolio, so I thought on what I'd be interested in making it for. Cars? Cool, but too costly to really do much of anything with. Computer hardware? Similar struggle. At that time, "Anime" came to mind as a cheap and accessible focus thanks to my increased watch time of media due to covid, so I ran with it.

I would just build fake or temporary blog posts to fill out the site and test it. Then I thought, if I'm going to have a blog site I should probably make a Twitter account for it as well. Oh, I should probably do this too, and that also. And so I accidentally made an entire platform based off an idea for a programming project. After about a year I abandoned the blog website because the project was "complete" and it's not like I was getting much traffic to it. But I kept the Twitter going, and going. And then one day I ended up here, and just kept going until I reached this follower count. It's weird to think about, in a sense. I never intended this for last, but it won't let go of me. It's even weirder because in all of my life I've never really been one to do anything like this before.

That's about it for the history though, I should probably add some details to the present.

As I write this I'm listening to a playlist of my favorite Nine Inch Nails songs. I'm a really big fan of their earlier work from albums like The Downward Spiral, that Industrial Rock sound is just so satisfying to me. But I'm also a bit of a music whore myself. When I say "everything except Country" I really mean it. Everything under the sun aside from Country music I'm cool with, but no matter how many phases I go through in terms of genres, I'll always gravitate towards the older music I used to listen on the radio to in my dad's car as we traveled for sports tournaments when I was younger. Foo Fighters, Muse, Soundgarden, Rage Against The Machine, Red Hot Chili Peppers, all the great bands of the early 2000s.

I also really do love art books. I'm terrible at art though I've never seriously tried, no matter how many times I tell myself I will. It does make me feel like an asshole though when I comment on art when I have no talent. It makes me feel unqualified to offer input on it, and makes me painfully aware of how shallow my analysis can be in comparison to what actually knowledgeable people can provide. I feel very similar with how I talk about anime. I refuse to view my words as an end all be all to any of the creative aspects because I've never even tried to what some of these authors/staff members have. But just like the couch potato dad will critique all the star athletes making hundreds of thousands a game, I'll sit myself down at my desk and belt out my complaints with very little reservation. A very hypocritical activity.

Sometimes I struggle with a healthy relationship between myself and this account. I think it's important to view them as two separate things for sanity's sake as well as to stave off an inflating ego, but it doesn't always happen. There's days I feel guilty for not saying something, for not making use of the platform I've created. I can feel a need to post, to be productive and compare myself to actual content creators despite my adamant declaration that I'm not one. It's a silly thing, but the internet and social media can be a terrible place that inspires people to desperation, to a deep desire for validation and popularity and that the numbers that you can see matter a great deal. It's not really fun.

Despite my (self proclaimed) "knowledge" of social media and the spheres of it that I engage with, I'm pretty terrible with outreach. Someone asking questions or challenging a point that I've written are things I can do very naturally, but genuine outreach and interaction is something that I struggle with. Should I do a giveaway? What's the best way to do it to make sure it goes to someone that deserves it? How should I go about finding similar accounts to interact or collaborate with? Is it okay if I reply to this post or ask a question? Truthfully, I might go as far as to say that I'm socially inept in regards to social media. It's a wave that I struggle to ride despite my reliance on it in several ways. But it's something I'm at least trying to stick with, so if there's any accounts similar to mine or anybody reading this thinks I'd be interesting in, tell me about them. Yes, a pathetically lazy request to make, but I just find myself intensely apathetic to a lot of the forced nature of social media.

But I'm still here, for whatever reason that may be. And I like talking about anime, manga, and all sorts of other similar things, for whatever reason that may be. And people follow me and like my posts, for whatever reason that may be.

[intermundia]

Hi! I’m a huge fan of your fics (honestly they’re some of the beat fics I have ever read in my life, you’re so talented) and I love your blog so much! I hope you don’t mind me asking how many followers you have? I also want ask some advice on how to increase interaction and activity on my blog with other obikin fans?

thank you!! you are very kind. one of the things i like best about tumblr is that our follower counts are hidden, i think it harshes the vibe to put hard numbers on things, because we’re all peers here on this hellsite imho. i guess i’m comfortable saying that before i started star wars blogging in april 2020, i had around 350 followers. i started writing, and by early jan 2021, i had 1k followers, so that was the early trajectory, helped by the fandom boom during the pandemic.

my advice for increasing interaction really depends on understanding what your goal is in seeking that interaction. why do you want interaction, what does it mean to you? if you’re a content creator looking for an audience for your art, gifs, or writing, it’s a slightly different situation from if you’re someone who participates by sharing excitement through reblogging (in my mind i think of these people as “curators” of their feeds). seeking friends is different from seeking an audience, basically.

i have high levels of interaction when i write stories and meta posts, or share lore from legends, or make gifs. the way my blog first got attention was i wrote a couple short stories that spawned AUs, classics au and murder puppy au primarily, that people would ask questions about, i would answer them and build out the au more, tag it obikin, and my posts showed up in the obikin tag. it prompted a virtuous circle of more asks leading to more spread and to more followers. i was responsive and available to asks (lmao remember that) and produced a lot of content. that is extremely helpful.

however it really is possible to have interaction without being a content creator!! the way i had followers before star wars was being a curator of aesthetic posts that i love. i would follow other similar blogs and occasionally reach out to people who shared interests and that's how you make mutuals. you have to show up, offer something to others, even if it's just your taste in collecting other people's posts for your feed, which would make people want to subscribe to see it, you know?

if you're looking for more followers, you have to be mindful of why other people would choose to follow a blog, like what’s different, special or interesting there, which can just be your personality! you have to show that personality off though by interacting with others: send people asks, leave tags on reblogs, like that's how i follow people!! if i see a name enough, i will check them out, we become mutuals, and now i have more friends. be kind, be interested, and be involved, and you are automatically a welcome part of the fandom.

also: some harsher advice, if you're willing to hear it. if you are a content creator, the quality of your work will attract people, and there are no shortcuts to producing excellent things. to have something individual to offer often takes years of work. in my case, you say i am talented, and i appreciate that! but my work is the result of years of practice and study. i didn’t just wake up able to write lex talionis. i couldn’t have written it at 19. i'm 31 now and have had the blessing of an incredibly thorough education.

my unique perspective that i offer though my analysis comes from the fact that i lived like a weird monk studying intensely for years, sacrificing a normal college experience to wake up at 3am and study greek for hours and hours. my understanding of the jedi comes from probably thousands of hours of study of insight meditation that i did and still do to deal with my manic depression. i write fanfiction well because i read tens of millions of words of fanfiction before i started writing, on top of pretty much all of the literary classics in the western canon.

i am trying to say that i worked my ass off to get where i am, and there was no magic wand to wave to get here. my stories are not the result of talent, even if i have that, but the result of hundreds of hours of intense dedication to improving. the articulate meta that seemed to just flow after the kenobi show? that was the result of two years of intense study of obi-wan kenobi. i had a two year head start on people just coming to the show, so of course i was able to parse it differently.

if you produce content, tagging it correctly and networking and all that helps, but there are no shortcuts to being really good at something. quality both draws and retains an audience. so basically if your art isn't getting the attention you want now, it might in a few years if you keep working hard at it!! keep dedicating your time, developing something unique and personal, and then offering it to people. i know it sucks now, but you have to put in the work to improve, and if you do, you will have something to offer that nobody else has, and that is how you really get interaction.

[nebulouscoffee]

3, 6, and 19 for the AO3 wrapped asks? 💜

Thanks for the ask! Really needed some writing positivity today❤️

3. What work are you most proud of (regardless of kudos/hits)?

Ahhh this is hard! Okay it would probably have to be 'Home', simply because I still cannot believe I actually worked up the courage to post the thing haha! Sometimes I look back and genuinely wonder if I was possessed by someone else.

This fic was my first ever attempt at fanfiction, first time writing romance of any kind, first time posting my writing on the internet (well, technically second posted, but close enough), receiving feedback from actual humans, interacting with fellow writers (I made friends through this fic?? That is so incredibly precious to me)- plus, it was SO not written with an audience in mind- it honestly began somewhat as an exercise in self-therapy lol, so the fact that I eventually chose to make it publicly readable (half a year later, but still!) is sort of huge to me. Not sure how obvious this was, but I was constantly terrified while updating it (I still never look at stats because if my brain sees numbers increasing it goes ABORT ABORT PEOPLE ARE SEEING THIS DELETE AND NEVER POST AGAIN lmao), but I'm glad I powered through, because sharing this story was such an Experience- like someone really told me reading it was healing for them? Someone felt inspired enough to make art?? I just!! dgsfgh people are very nice sometimes

Idk, I guess that I took the plunge and wrote something so far outside my comfort zone and shared it does make me feel a bit proud :)

6. Favorite title you used

'Light Matters and Hollow Graphics', simply because I am a Bad Puns Enjoyer first and everything else second

19. What’s one pairing you want to explore next year?

I have a few deranged and probably more entertaining answers, but since you asked- siskoshir! I've been outlining a multi-chapter, and if I manage to write it in time I'd love to contribute to the Siskoshir Big Bang 2023 :)