#should i write a fic abt this?? kind of?

[only-god-canstopme]

one of my fondest hc is that i truly truly believe that the hatfords are either scottish or northern english. and a much smaller gang than the moriyamas/wesninskis in general. it just makes more sense to me.

i like to think that the hatfords are more working class,not in wealth but culturally, and that mary wanted more than that. she grew up wanting to be amongst higher society, to be rich and boast about it too. and when she got the opportunity to leave with a man who offered that lifestyle, the glamour and shimmer and appeal of old dirty money, she jumped at it. she left her family behind, thinking she could do better than them. and she told them that too. she thought she’d be more than she was with her family, be an equal to nathan in his business and at home.

and she was, until she got pregnant. and then suddenly she was a mother, instead of a person. the one who caused a problem by getting pregnant. now nathan had something he had to deal with, to get rid of so he could continue his work with the moryiamas. the cruelty she’d been exempt from till this point was suddenly turned on her and her son. Neil became the only thing she had. and she had to risk everything for him.

and once it all went south, the shame and the guilt, and the belief that the hatfords couldnt deal with problems this big, ate away at her until she was on an island of two. her and neil. and while she loved him, she really loved him, neil had torn her away from the life she had made for herself. from the position she deserved to have, among the prestige and wealth. so she resented him.

what she didn’t know, was that for her, her family would’ve made themselves bigger. for neil, they increased their base and standings in uk and made themselves important to the moriyamas. they extended business overseas. they would’ve fought for her had she asked.

[moralcandy]

fifteen things that don't come back, by charlie slimecicle:

number one. the paper airplane you and your daughter throw at your husband while his back is turned in the kitchen, the two of you hiding behind the counter as you snicker quietly when he stops humming and yelps a curse as he turns around with a faux angry expression and a poorly-hidden smile.

number two. the glass your daughter broke trying to grab it from the cabinet on her tippy-toes. you didn't look over until you heard the glass shatter against the kitchen floor, too preoccupied with grabbing the jug of cold orange juice from the fridge to notice until it was too late. golden, afternoon sunlight shone warmly on the both of you from the open window as you swept it up while she stood to the side with a sheepish expression.

number three. your husband's soft shirt he let you borrow when you said you couldn't find your own but really you just quickly shoved yours under the bed when he wasn't looking. you absently noted that it smelled like him. your lips curved into a slight smile without input. your foot shoved your shirt under the bed a little bit farther.

number four. the pictures you took of your daughter and niece, hugging eachother as they posed for the camera, the photo incinerated into ash when you blew up your house. you frantically dug through your daughter's chest afterwards, soot covering your hands as you searched for the photograph. you did not find it.

number five. your niece.

number six. the feeling of a cold glass of wine held tipsily in your hand, the waterdrop of condensation slipping down the glass at the same pace your tears did down your cheeks. you downed the alcohol until there was nothing left except a burning feeling and a lump in your throat. the bartender did not give you another drink.

number seven. your friend, the one who used to laugh hysterically with you as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders before he began to scream at you while he wrapped his hands around your neck. he pushed you into the dirt, the metallic taste of blood in your mouth and the feeling of wet dirt on your skin as you absently question whether the water dripping on your face was the rain or the tears slipping down your friend's face. you know that was the funeral of your children, but you think both of the real 'you's died that day, too.

number eight. the warm, rumbling feeling of laughter in your chest as a smile hurts your cheeks, the sensation long gone. your mouth, for a moment, twitches into a small smile at the memory of the feeling.

number nine. the feeling of hands on your own, your husband's warm hands intertwined with yours as your cold, golden rings clink against eachother. your daughter's tiny hand clasped around yours as she leads you to a butterfly she found, grass brushing your ankles as you walk.

ten. the sound of your daughter's amused laughter, snorts interrupting occasionally. her head leans back as she giggles, her eyes scrunched up in happiness.

eleven. the sound of your husband's soothing voice, lilting with fondness as he looks at you. a smile absently crosses his face as he speaks, audible in his voice. you always remember smiling back.

twelve. your golden wedding band your husband lovingly slipped onto your ring finger so long ago, the one you furiously tossed into a dusty corner with particularily bad aim. you blame the poor aim on the tears blurring your vision, but it could've been the alcohol, really.

thirteen. your husband. you try to go to sleep in the center of your bed now, knowing that he won't be there. when you wake up, you always find yourself on the left side of the bed, as if you've moved in your sleep to accommodate someone. you scowl and think that your asleep self should stop being so stupid. ..you make the bed just in case he really does decide to come back.

fourteen. your daughter. whenever you make yourself breakfast now, you keep accidentally making two bowls, the muscle memory automatic, familiar, and no longer needed. you sit down at the table and set the bowls and begin to eat, but you always end up just stirring the cereal with your spoon as you stare at the untouched bowl across from you. you always end up throwing them both away. without your input, a frown tugs slightly at your lips as your pour out the second bowl but you know that nobody else was even here to eat it anyway. your eyes burn.

fifteen. your daughter, the one you know isn't the real one. sometimes you walk down those train tracks where you found her, hoping she'll be here this time. she never is. ..you still keep checking, just in case.

[mamawasatesttube]

ooooo timkon w “Can you just hold me?” or “You look like you need a hug." for the ficlet thing :3

Kon's hair is a frizzy mess.

That's the first red flag. Kon is ridiculously vain when he wants to be, with a whole hair care shower routine, silken pillowcases, and an array of curl creams and whatnot that he had to explain to Tim twice before any of it stuck in his head properly. Tim teases him for it now and then, but he knows it's because Kon doesn't like people seeing him at anything but his best. Kon got too used to being picked apart on camera for that.

So the fact that his hair is unkempt and mussed as he lets himself in from the balcony is... concerning.

Even more concerning is the way he barely even looks at Tim before he throws himself at the bed, flopping face-down with an oof. The balcony door closes itself behind him like an afterthought, and he heaves a huge, melancholy sigh.

"Kon?" Tim pushes away from his desk, trotting over to the bedside. Kon's legs are sticking off, and Tim shakes his head fondly as he reaches down to tug Kon's boots off. "Long day, huh?"

The first boot comes off in his hands; the second follows almost instantaneously. Kon lifts his head from the duvet to give him a slightly sheepish look over his shoulder, apologetic, before he drops his face back down with a thump.

"I'm tired," he mumbles. And he sounds like it. There isn't even a hint of a smile in his voice.

Tim crawls onto the bed next to him, rests his hand comfortingly at the small of his back. "What happened?"

Kon hisses out another sigh into the duvet. "Someone tried to—and don't get your knickers in a twist, I'm fine—but someone tried to dissect me today. Again."

Alarm jolts through Tim's whole body; his hands immediately start roaming Kon's torso, probing for wounds. "What?! Are you hurt—"

"I just said, I'm fine, Rob." Kon sounds a little wry as he rolls onto his back. "Jeez. What happened to your listening skills?"

He catches one of Tim's wrists and holds it to his chest, over his heart; Tim can see the sliver of an incision, cut right into the center of the S-shield emblazoned on his chest. He can't tell if it cut the skin beneath or not, but at least he doesn't see any blood.

The tiny smile on Kon's face fades, and Tim softens, studying him. Now that he can look properly, he can see the telltale signs that Kon cried, earlier; his cheeks are a little blotchy, his eyes slightly reddened. An eyelash is stuck to the delicate skin just below his eye.

"Some... ugh. They were some, like, Cadmus-wannabes. Total bozos, though. They had a red sun lamp, but no metagene suppressant, so." Kon shrugs, discontented. "They didn't even use the energy restraints like that time with Amanda Spence, like—c'mon, at least do your basic research if you're gonna try to vivisect a guy, right?" He snorts humorlessly. "I got out fine, took it down, called the S.C.U., it's whatever. I'm just... I'm so tired, Tim," and his voice cracks on Tim's name.

"Kon," he murmurs, leaning down. He presses their foreheads together, his chest aching. He'll have to check the news, find out from reports who exactly was behind this, because... it shouldn't matter, since it's already taken care of, but something inside him burns at the thought that anyone, anywhere, could put such a bone-deep sorrow into Kon's eyes.

"I'm so tired of people acting like I'm—like I'm not a person just 'cuz I hatched outta some stupid tube in a lab." Kon's eyes are too bright. He squeezes them shut and takes a shaky breath. "Like—what do I gotta do, y'know? How do you just—how do you even get through to people who're so convinced clones aren't people? I'm a person, too! I just... I..."

Tim very briefly debates the ethics of breaking into Stryker's just so he can hit someone with his staff. Or his car.

"I'm... really sorry you had to deal with that," he says instead, lamely. It's cold comfort, and awkward, and—

And it makes Kon laugh, watery but real. He blinks his teary-bright eyes up at Tim, brushes a gloved hand to his cheek. "You're mad as hell right now, aren't you?"

Tim smiles ruefully and presses his lips to Kon's jaw. "You caught me." Another kiss, to the corner of Kon's mouth. "I just—I hate that I can't do anything to fix this kinda thing for you. You don't deserve it."

"Mm." Kon takes a second to collect himself, swallows hard, and breathes out slowly. "You do more than you realize, I think. Can you just—can you just hold me? For a little while?"

Tim flops down on top of him immediately, wraps his arms around his head and neck, and smushes his face into Kon's hair. It would probably be more comfortable if they were side-by-side and facing each other, but the advantage of this position is that—

Kon laughs again, soft and fond. His voice is still a little thick, but he's smiling now. "Is that comfy for you...?"

"Kinda." Tim kisses his temple, too. "You smell like smoke."

"Mmf, sorry." Kon sighs again. "And I got it all over the bed now, too, huh..."

"S'okay. We can just grab a different blanket later." Tim scrunches his fingers through Kon's hair until they hit a tangle. "...Want me to wash your hair for you?"

Kon's arms tighten around him, and suddenly he seems like he needs a moment before he can respond. Tim doesn't rush him.

"Yeah," Kon croaks out after a moment, his voice suspiciously wet. "Yeah, Robbie. I'd like that a lot."

[wundrousarts]

Hi folks! It seems like people are discovering that there are people online who write some WEIRD! 👎 stuff for Nevermoor. Some tips and tricks for dealing with that:

Don't engage. Don't read the fics. Don't even comment to say how much you hate it.

Don't spread it around. It's gross as hell, I know! But being like "ew, guys, I found this gross fic" just means you're causing more people to seek out said gross fic, and that's just not great. If you don't want to see it, no one else wants to either.

If you can: block, mute, or filter. I don't really use any fanfic sites to know if these functionalities exist, but I'm sure people online have found ways. Edit: here's a way to do it on Ao3.

TL;DR: Ignore, Ignore, Ignore. 👍

(PS: Same thing goes for when people send weird inappropriate anon messages. Just delete them from your inbox and don't subject others to them.)

This is unfortunately something that's been present for years in the fandom, on both Ao3 and Wattpad. This is also why I essentially don't read Nevermoor fics unless they're for Mogtober, and even then I'm cautious. I have seen some weird stuff written about my favorite characters that I wish I could pluck from my brain and set on fire, or worse! But when I stumble across that stuff, I just quickly close the tab and pivot to something else to get my mind off of it.

We should not entertain these types of people in a fandom full of minors about a middle grade series, so: just don't engage with them, ignore them, filter them out, and maybe even drown them out with some fics of your own.

[cinnamon-bunni]

NOT okay right now im thinking abt pokemon leaving scars on their trainers + everyday, domestic problems.....

[hopefulqueer]

I'm starting to think the reason I'm not as good of a writer as I want to be is because I like writing more than I like reading.

[pregnancykink]

.

[sadiecoocoo]

Despite my adamant denial of it, I believe I do, in fact, currently suffer from the plague known as writer’s block. I shant blame anyone but mine school for this atrocity

[chemicaljacketslut]

like i’m telling you so seriously it is the WORSTTTTTT feeling ever not having a fixation on something. recently i’ve been feeling that creative itch to write like SO strongly and then i realize i don’t have any characters to write about. for the past like month there’s just been this part of me that’s been soo restless not being able to write when i’m finally motivated to sigh.. if y’all have tips lmk PLEASE

[angelsdean]

me with a neverending list of wip fics 

my brain: how ‘bout one more...

[hua-fei-hua]

alright whenever you have time (and also the energy) I would love to hear your thoughts on the lantern rite epilogue! Have a good day <3

we're going to pretend that people following me will care abt genshin 3.4 lantern rite spoilers so we're gonna put my entire deranged mess under a cut hahaha

*gently holds* MY XVS......

truly this lantern rite had EVERYTHING although truth be told, like, the way venti was kind of shoehorned in was a little disappointing. i felt a little bit baited by the way the 3.4 TRAILER HAD THAT ONE CUT RIGHT where it goes from VENTI PLAYING THE LYRE in the harbor to XIAO LOOKING UP AT THE FIREWORKS outside of wangshu inn, and then we see the xiao bit in the actual cutscene on day 2, but absolutely none of venti until the epilogue. and also we never see venti playing the lyre during the event story so it's like. whoever edited that pv absolutely had xv on the brain. like. what the hell was that it was magical i feel higher than a boat right now

BUT ANYWAY like i don't even care how obviously shoehorned in venti felt bc the interactions were all SO PERFECT i love love loved them. i loved the way hu tao just RAN INTO WANGSHU INN and started shouting for xiao, and then talked death to him until he was like "yeah sure i'll go to your dinner". they are so besties i love them their friendship is everything to me.

THE WAY. XV INTERACTED. IN FRONT OF US. xiao just like "well. um. there's this. um. um." TOTAL PANIC MODE n venti had to SAVE HIM with like "huuuh? did you forget already? i'm a bard!" like HELLO why do they need a COVER STORY why are they making up COVER STORIES TOGETHER WHAT WERE THEY DOING TOGETHER IN THE MARSH EARLIER like what kind of GAY SHIT--

also i'm pretty sure when xiao started explaining his relationship to venti, venti fluttered his lashes at him. like, i recorded the whole quest (bc i didn't last year with the final part n i REALLY WISH I HAD bc i STILL remember the dRAMATIC GASP i had when we had that one beiguang moment in the cutscene), and when i rewatched it earlier i was like. "HANG ON. DID HE JUST FLUTTER HIS LASHES" n rewatched it like three times. maybe my game was just stuttering BUT IT DEFINITELY LOOKED LIKE IT and maybe i'll gif it when i get home from work tonight

BUT ANYWAY (2) point is that the expression work this time was ON POINT like whoever's doing all that over at mhy hq needs to get a raise pronto. venti going (¬‿¬) at all the other immortals was so immaculate. you aren't subtle little man!!!

it's probably just shipper goggles on to an extent, but i feel like the xv implications were really strong this time around, with the parallels to that fontch guy's ancestor, and the guiping n everything... i'm kind of disappointed that we don't get to actually hear any of venti's unobstructed thoughts on xiao; like the ribbing n implications at the dinner are a lot of fun (like, they were totally making out in the marsh before dinner. we all know this. it's very clear imo), but it kind of makes me wonder why we can hear xiao like... do his Very Heavy Implying abt venti's importance to him (though again, he doesn't outright say anything-- we know the full extent n depth of xiao's feelings abt venti (romantic or not) bc we can read his character stories, so technically really he hasn't told us jack squat in the current canon timeline), but the best we get from venti are smug expressions. those expressions are very telling, ofc, but a very unhinged part of me wishes that mhy didn't feel the need to wrap up the xv in layers of allegory and metaphor and just outright heard one of them say, "this person is very dear to me." i know it's just the rabid shipper in me, and i need to be sedated, but i was really kind of hoping that we'd see the allegory w/the fontch guy's ancestor n madame ping lifted away at the end n, like, see or hear it be bound to xv outright. just for purely self-indulgent purposes o(--(

but anyway (3) i also love love loved all the playful ribbing, witty banter, and prev event callbacks btwn the characters!! hu tao n venti canonically making a pact to be poetry friends was SO GOOD you just KNOW hu tao is gonna commission venti to compose a JINGLE for wangsheng advertising purposes later, while zhongli n xiao are like, "this meeting never should have happened. we are all doomed." somehow i legitimately forgot that xq n venti know each other from irodori n was like, "...huh?" when xq mentioning knowing venti for like, a FULL two seconds. the way venti was like "damn you know i was right outside this entire time. can you believe the way some people ignore the wind?" n zhongli was like "hahaha (✿◡‿◡) the harbor is very busy this time of year (✿◠‿◠) it is very hard see or hear an individual person's whereabouts (^人^)"

AND ALSO. PAIMON BEING ELECTED AS THE "MOST DISTINGUISHED GUEST." PAIMON YOU GOT IN THE WAY OF MY DERANGED SELF-DELUSIONMENT MANY TIMES THIS LANTERN RITE BUT THAT WAS PRETTY FUNNY. i thought it was interesting how no one nominated venti. like i was kind of expecting xiao to do it (but ofc he nominates traveler) which is fair honestly, n then i was like "IS LUMINE GONNA NOMINATE VENTI????" but then she nominated paimon n paimon was like "wait... me?????" n it was just EXACTLY like a bunch of adults telling the little kid they are the most specialest ever n they should have the honor of doing The Thing. as that little kid growing up, i know the feeling very well lol

there are other bits i'm just,,, rotating around in my mind, like venti and kazuha hanging out on the alcor, the way xiao goes "i can't taste the difference in xiangling's special almond tofu" when you go visit him afterwards, ALL THE GANQING THAT HAPPENED IN THE MAIN STORY I'M SO HAPPY FOR THEM I'M SO HAPPY FOR ME I WON VERY HARD THIS LANTERN RITE, n like,,, yeah!!!!

[thathopelessromantic]

went into a fugue state this weekend and wrote 7k+ words of a st fic

[wiseatom]

me thinking abt the amount of meetings i have tomorrow

[daydadahlias]

hi! so this is related to your ask about dub con :) not necessarily just with dun con scenarios, but what do you think about fanfiction written as a means of healing or coping? and maybe not even on a great or really dark scale, but also as an outlet for fantasy that they know can’t/ shouldn’t happen in real life?

hii !!! this is a really interesting question and a conversation that hasn't had much around this topic so <3 jessay incoming <3

TW discussion of SA

Before I get bogged down overexplaining my feelings on this, I will just very blatantly state that I am very supportive of people writing literally whatever the fuck they want if it is healing for them. far be it from me - or anyone - to police someone else's journey with recovery!

I think that writing (especially writing that is as low-stakes as fanfic) is a wonderful outlet for people to express themselves and also write what feels healing for them. I really just cannot say enough how valid I think that is and that I think people should 100% utilize that outlet.

Now, per writing material like that (ie. rape / CNC / dub-con), I really think people need to understand how imperative tagging and author notes are. Like, if you want to write a fic that is personally healing for you, that's fantastic, but you do need to understand that if you're posting it publicly, you are exposing other people to it. Write rape fetish freely, if you want, who am I to tell you not to? But what you have to do is correctly tag it. And what I've often spoken up negatively about is people who don't tag correctly or even recognize the harm of what they're writing.

Like, what you're talking about in this context is very different from the dub-con fics I'm referencing in my last ask that makes me really uncomfortable. The dub-con that I strongly dislike is very rarely even recognized as being dub-con and is usually people just not understanding what consent even is. And, a lot of the times, fics that tag dub-con really need to be tagging for rape.

Now, if a fic is tagged correctly, have at it! I think it's just important to recognize certain things for what they are and their potentially damaging content. My fear is always that a young reader will consume a rape fic that someone wrote for whatever reason (healing or fetish or otherwise) and incorrectly perceive it as "regular" sex. Like, if you want to write fantasy, please by all means write it!! I enjoy a fantasy as much as the next person!! But, for the sake of consumers, it needs to be labeled as such. And I just really hate the argument people often make that "it's not my responsibility as a writer to tell people what's bad and what's not" like yes... it is? If you are writing content like that, you need to be forthcoming about what it is for the sake of the people you're exposing.

And I will also <3 take this time lol to talk a little bit abt why tenderness is key when engaging with writers :) sure, if someone is writing material that is potentially harmful, please remind them they need to tag for triggers but also please consider why they're writing the things they are and don't automatically start spewing hatred at people or calling them "gross" for certain things for this reason.

I used to write fairly graphic/dark material about rape when I first started writing fanfic because of how cathartic it was for me. Like, I wrote a 50k fic called Will Be (real jess fans wya) that was very explicitly about rape (and included an on-screen rape scene in the story) and, while I would definitely write it differently now in my ~old age~ I did it as best and as sensitively as I could back then (at my ripe and ingenious age of 18), but was still met with a significant amount of pushback/cruelty in response to the subject matter (like <3 hate asks and stuff <3 and a friend of mine even got hate about me which was also, like, a Thing soo <3). And, don't get me wrong, I genuinely understand people's discomfort w/ rape fics especially in regards to rpf but, like, people do need to remember that there is a real person on the other side of those fics and they have their reasons for writing sensitive material. And, receiving commentary on that fic (and on me as a person) was really damaging for 18 yo me lol! And I;ve since taken that fic down due to the ways people were interacting w/ me over it and, now - even though I still write fairly graphic material for myself - I don't feel comfortable sharing it anymore.

I think it's a complex conversation and there's a lot more nuance to it than a lot of people allow - including myself in the past.

In terms of people just writing rape fantasy - which is also different than just writing a story that discusses rape - I think people should freely engage with the material they want to so long as they are safe and educated about it. I only ask that they tag their content appropriately and be capable of engaging in educated, tender conversations about it <3

Like, above all else, people have to remember that fiction does not exist inside of a vacuum. And if you are writing that material, you have to be willing to educate and be educated.

[takeaguessbuddy]

how do you people have entire blogs dedicated to a singular show

[aro-aizawa]

@ ppl who follow my writing: please know that i v much want to write and post stuff i just don't have the brain power to sit down and do it. recently changed my meds slightly and a few other things and now i am exhausted like,,, all the time. in the mean time just curious but: