#they have no understanding of the genre nor engagement with it

[rxttenfish]

my most unpopular ttrpg opinion is easily: no, "universal" games cannot run horror and stop trying to run horror in games not designed to be horror

like, dnd by far is the biggest offender here, but i keep seeing it pop up again and again and im sick of it. i still have no clue why the ogoa ttrpg is in the cypher system or why the mystery flesh pit ttrpg also made this exact same choice.

there are systems made to run horror in. and you cannot just pick up and immediately transfer that horror to another system because so many of the mechanics are things which are fundamental in all other genres but literally fly in the face of horror or creating good horror. there are so many fundamental mechanics in ttrpgs of other genres that will immediately destroy any and all tension you are trying to build in a horror game. please, just stop torturing yourself like this. stop torturing the game like this. just pick up some indie ttrpgs already designed with horror in mind, for fucks sake.

[anantaru]

SLEEPLESS NIGHTS SHINE SO BRIGHT

— ꒰ synopsis ꒱ — sleepless nights with your boyfriend kuni.

— ꒰ word count ꒱ —1.1k

— ꒰ genre ꒱ — fluff, gn! reader, established relationship, soulmates, just very indulgent and fluffy

"kuni… are you asleep?"

snugly protected by the silky and soft blankets of your bed, there‘s a settling fatigued, weary voice scattered across the shaded room, your voice, that was spelling out your boyfriends name.

"i‘m not."

"—how did you know i wasn't?!"

of course you knew, you cannot not know, because no one was as exhausted and kept up by their own overactive mind as scaramouche was.

yet believe it or not, kuni would learn of a habit that was dear to him, more so important.

it was to wait for you to doze of way before he was allowed to do so himself— it‘s not like he was doing it on purpose anymore, maybe at first to make sure you‘re out of danger and safe, notwithstanding was it turning into a personal act of love, acting out the words his affections spoke to him.

scaramouche slowly slopes his arm over your body to lean into you— yet with your current state, you don’t have the energy to say anything or move at all— your muscles were thoroughly glutted with exhaustion.

while it was strenuous at first, he was finally close to you now. his warm touch the softest, gentlest and rarest, it's intoxicating and can turn a simple moment such as this one into home.

kuni’s head uses you as his own personal pillow and you feel his little hair strands repeatedly tickle your cheeks. It made you smile vividly and clear— and your heart was swelling deeply within your rib cage whenever you encountered such sincerity.

urgently, he was softly outlining your frame over your clothed body with his fingers. kuni's caress was exceptionally light  and even inside the shadowed room that was clouding his pretty face from your eyes to see— you could regardless of that, discern a tranquil smile squared on his lips— at nothing but the refined look of you being awake, next to him, being together.

"you can‘t sleep as well?" a whisper closing around your ears as he rubs your arm, silently placing his lips on you to pull you in for a quick kiss.

"no.." your breathing was slowed, emerging set apart, "i tried to sleep but it's not working." he can feel you hum against him, distantly, — a tilt shaken, somewhat saddened.

but here, you were safe, kuni realizes, there was no need for you to feel dejected. here, you were given the love you deserve, because all the repeated fire that burned in him was for you. here, in his arms, nothing was extinguished nor forgotten, but it was easier to navigate through, together.

"can you tell me a story kuni?" you tenderly slide your hands into his loose fitting sleepwear and hug him tight while drawing small circles on his bare back.

he quietly hisses at the coldness of your dainty fingers but melts into your touch despite that, smiling.

"hmmm.. a story?" he drawls and squeezes himself close to you— but by how he was approaching you, gentle and content, there‘s a honey laced perception in his tone of mannerism, an understanding kindness that only he was able to display on you. he‘s again, only offering you what you deserve, in kuni‘s eyes, it‘s everything and all.

he thinks about it, focusing and closing his eyes, hauling out a low lift of air from his lungs before speaking once more, "did i ever tell you about how i beat those two fatui guards up?" he whispers it, but proudly smirks into you too, like it‘s a love confession of some sort, as if this story wasn‘t filled with pure danger and sheer bloodlust.

a listless, airy laugh emits from the tip of your tongue which had brought his attention right back to you, "i don‘t think you did." but as you snuggle into his chest, effortlessly closing your eyes and giggle, you were eagerly awaiting a story that surely was to be wildly humorous and engaging to listen to.

"i‘ll make sure to leave out the violent stuff so you won‘t get nightmares because of me."

kuni kisses your temple, playfully entangling his legs with your own and coaxing out another laugh from past your lips— he loves doing that, letting yourself feel and experience, letting your tense shoulders fall back into the silken cushions as you play out the silly game.

now, the situation seemed more inviting, more, flowing. your mind was moderately simmering down, little by little, bit by bit.

"you‘re sweet, you know that?" this was a reminder you had planned to point out way sooner, "and you're mine kuni." with the little intention behind your words being to have your cute boyfriend flustered and giddy, all while innocently mushed into your body.

and oh, who could've seen that coming? could it be that you caught the usual cool headed and self controlled scaramouche off guard?

maybe, or— lets be real; clearly.

the truth was, kuni realizes that he needs this from you, to hear it, to receive a certain satisfaction that stirs his soul— to soften the emotions in him that were circumstantially hardened by his past.

something that would completely overthrow him to the furthest extent, words colliding and preciously riveting in his belly from how settling and compelling it was to hear this from you.

a reminder from his soulmate, you can say.

"you‘re saying this because you‘re tired." he proposes and fights back the urge to plant kisses all over your face and quote on quote, overdo it— but the spirited heatwave in his cheeks was only partly able to be kept concealed from you.

"no no no." you start to whine, leaning your forearms over his chest so he'd be the one laying down now, so it was you who could watch him perfectly— his scruffy hair, his beclouded eyes hanging low, his skin pale and illuminated by a single broken ray of moonlight flaring down on top of him, exposing his firm shoulders and collarbones from under the way too large sleep shirt he was wearing.

"i‘m saying it because it‘s true!" you huff, your eyes sparkling like the prettiest, most ethereal stars in the sky. "you're mine!"

"you need to stop doing that!" kuni can‘t elaborate on this feeling and hides his face into your neck, "don't do this." and a squeezed out mumble effuses from him onto your skin as he placed sweet little kisses on your neck.

you turned him all shy and embarrassed yet he’s rolling his eyes because, yes, you got him speechless, finally.

you giggle and slide your digits over the sharp outline of his jaw, "i'm not doing anything!" though he knows it better, knows when you were being particularly evil and ready to play out a short, cryptic game.

"fine.." he fights back a smile, "suit yourself then."

it's been a long time since you had him wholly dumbstruck and left bewildered, but … maybe he'll let you off the hook for tonight.

"tsk." he suddenly clicks his tongue, "—and here i wanted to tell you my story but you kept interrupting me!"

the night goes and passes between laughter and you kiss his lips under the stars that rest above you both, "please do tell."

and from the demise of the darkened negatives you felt just moments ago, kuni and you happily chatted away until the first out of many rays of sunlight grazed your fulfilled bodies with their presence.

©2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[local-crying-boy]

As If To Turn Back Time

Carlisle Cullen X Female!Reader

——————————————————————————————————

Pairing: Carlisle Cullen x Female!Reader

Genre: One-Shot, fluff, reunion

Warnings: literally just ignoring Carlisle’s backstory a bit cause I’m too stupid to understand dates and such, failed attempt at me writing people talking from the 1600s with only Bridgeton as a guide

Summary: You and Carlisle met in the 1600s, you had grown close and wanted to come clean to him. However, you had no choice but to leave. The two of you meet years later, Carlisle realising you are a vampire and you discovering that he had turned.

Word Count: 2.7k

A/n: This poor draft has been sitting in my drafts for way too damn long, so long that you can probably see how my writing style changes half way through :(

——————————————————————————————————

The two of you had often walked long walks during the day, talking about seemingly anything and everything. The conversations never pausing or becoming overbearingly dull, it seemed as if you could talk for hours on end.

You, despite not wanting to, grew close to Carlisle, even starting to be on a first name basis. He had always been gentlemen like and was not like the other men you’d talked to, simply wanting somebody to ‘woo’ and eventually marry.

Of course, you never stayed long enough for engagement to even be considered.

However, you didn’t want to leave this one. He was kind, kind unlike the others. His words were genuine, his smile was not faked nor was it practiced. He didn’t say the things he wanted you to hear, he was true about his thoughts and feelings.

He was as though he was too good to he true.

Carlisle thought this about you too. Kind, genuine, true. However, he was correct about being too good to be true, because you knew you had to leave, to break his heart.

Each evening, after parting ways with the Doctor, you cursed yourself. How could you be so careless with your heart? So quick to fall in love? You would outlive him for God’s sake! You would leave before you even got the chance to tell him you loved him, before he could even realise that you were going to leave.

There was no way to ever have a human and a vampire together, not without the Volturi knowing or without the human dying. Having both end up being dead, Carlisle would be buried and you would have half your heart ripped apart. There was no way to run from this problem. You loved him.

You loved Carlisle Cullen.

On June 2nd, 1661, at 3:26pm on a Tuesday afternoon, you had decided to come clean to Carlisle. He was already beginning to piece together that there was something wrong with you, not eating, ice cold skin, never being out in the sun, so coming clean was not going to be a big deal.

However, when you decided that, you had heard talk of your unusual behaviour and your never aging body. That was when it hit you, you had to leave Carlisle before being truthful to him. There was no time for rushed letters or quick apologies.

And so by the 3rd, on the Wednesday morning, you were already out of London and heading to Scotland where you planned to soon move to… Well, you weren’t too sure. You had planned to go to Scotland, but you knew you most likely had to go further, with all your time spent with Carlisle you didn’t think of where you would go next.

When it hid Midday of the Wednesday you left, Carlisle had gone to the house you were staying at, an old friend of yours. He knocked on the wooden door, expecting you to show up in one of your usual light blue dresses. However, one of the Lady of the house’s maids opened the door.

Confusion had hit Carlisle almost immediately, you were always there to greet him, as if you already knew it was him at the door, “Excuse me, Miss. Is Miss L/n home?”

The brunette woman shook her head slightly, “No, Sir. She left not too long ago, I’m afraid.”

“Do you know when she will return?” Carlisle asked, questions circling around his head, you never mentioned leaving.

Once again, the woman shook her head, “She won’t be returning, Sir. Miss L/n said she was not to return.”

Heartbroken, Carlisle almost forgot how to breathe, “She has left London?”

This time, the woman nodded, “I am afraid so, Sir, she said it was something of last minute arrangements, she was adamant there could be no postponing. She mentioned something about Scotland, or Germany.”

Then, right there and then, Carlisle was certain his heart had broken into a multitude of pieces, never to be pieced together again. Had it been something he’d done? Weren’t the two of you getting along well?

• 1936, Forks, Washington •

Thirst was making your throat burn, making you agitated and irritated. You haven’t been able to slip away and hunt yet, since the work you had was piling up and unavoidable, so you had been pretty much relaying on pure luck that you wouldn’t rip open these people’s throats.

It was tempting. Really, really tempting. Especially since the majority of your co-workers were stuck-up, stubborn, assholes of men who got on your nerves on a daily basis and did not respect women what-so-ever. However, with a seemingly unbearable thirst that made your entire body beg to kill them, it became more easy for your thoughts to drift to murder and made the thirst even more unbearable. Almost as if it would kill you.

If you could get headaches, you were sure you would’ve gotten one from these idiotic people. You watched the time and counted the seconds, hoping that focusing on the time would make the thoughts of their blood fade away into the back if your mind.

You barely made another minute before you abruptly stood from your stool and muttered, “Excuse me for a moment, I feel sick.”

You hastily left before anyone could say anything, then when you exited the building and was out of site, you ran towards the woods in hopes to find literally any animal.

You, centuries ago, decided to feed only on animals after slaughtering a family of four in the late 1500s and going into the early 1600s. The guilt still pulls at you randomly, which is why you started studying sciences, history and art wherever allowed women to have an education.

When you had gone far enough from the town, you tried to find anything. Luckily, there was a deer close, the pure smell of its blood had almost sent you mental.

Without even hesitating, you ran towards the sent, making it run from the loud rustling you caused. However, it didn’t get far because you had mercilessly murdered it and started feeding on it before it even fell to the floor.

You might as well have been a newborn with the way you were acting, impulsive and without a second thought. Well, perhaps this would have been a lesson to regularly feed instead of putting work first.

When you had your fill of the deer, and it was completely drained of its blood, you had stood from your space and simply started walking. You weren’t ready to go back to your workplace, certain that if one of those bastards said something stupid again, you would kill them and probably end up getting hunted by the Volturi from the inevitable frenzy it would send you in.

You had been in the of calming yourself down when you heard the very distant noise of footsteps, fast ones. Panic hit you almost instantly, you hadn’t been aware of other vampires in Forks.

Listening attentively, you prepared yourself for a fight. Often, vampires were somewhat territorial, if you’d accidentally wondered onto another’s land, you were expecting a fight. Usually, you were always aware if there were other vampires. However, clearly, you were not as careful this time.

However, you became terrified when you started hearing four pairs of footsteps. You definitely couldn’t fight four vampires, not by yourself anyway. Sure, your ability was good, but it took a lot of effort to hypnotise one person - let alone four.

Wiping the small specs of blood from your mouth, you spun your head around, scanning your surroundings. They were definitely getting closer, no doubt about that.

In seconds, four vampires appeared in front of you. One with short black hair - almost a buzz cut -, one with brunette hair, one with long blond hair and the last one, oh, the last one you knew too damn well.

“Holy shit…” You muttered, “Carlisle?”

If vampires could cry, you knew you would start sobbing right there and then. Ugly crying like you had done so when you were being turned over four hundred and fifty years ago.

“Y/n?” Carlisle asked, as if you’d been a ghost. Maybe, in his eyes, it was all you were. A phantom, a ghost, something of the unimaginable.

You took a step closer to the four, each eyes clouded with utter confusion, then Carlisle's whose eyes were clear with a multitude of emotions, “If I had known you’d been bit, I would have helped you.”

You were hesitant to hug him, even though all you wanted to do was tackle him down and feel his arms around you.

“Carlisle, who is this?” The woman with blond hair asked, she seemed hesitant to trust you and seemed defensive - as if ready for a fight, even if Carlisle knew you.

Carlisle’s eyes did not move from yours, a faint smile on his face as he recalled memories from lifetimes ago, “An old friend, from before I turned.”

This time, Carlisle walked closer to you and in a second, he’d wrapped his arms around you and had you in a tight embrace. It seemed so odd to feel his warmth completely replaced with coldness, he'd finally matched your temperature, you didn't find him warm and he didn't find you cold anymore.

You completely melted in his arms, breathing in his scent and closing your eyes in content, you'd never hugged him before, you and him had only exchanged quick and harmless touches of the hand when you knew him as a mortal. It was nice. “I’m so sorry I left, Carlisle. I’m so sorry.”

He had one hand planted behind your neck, making his fingers intertwined in your hair, while his other hand was rested on your back. You knew you would have felt chills go up your back if you were still human, “It’s okay, I understand why you left now.”

When you let go of Carlisle, he let go as well, though, you could tell the man was hesitant to let go. You took a few steps back and took in the other three’s appearance. They all had one thing in common, yellow eyes - one that always reminded you of gold, meaning they all fed on animals like you.

“Hi.” You awkwardly said to the three teenagers, “Sorry to intrude.”

“Who are you exactly?” The brunette haired boy asked, he seemed tense, he didn't trust you and you assumed he must have been one of the eldest - taking Carlisle out of the equation.

You awkwardly fiddled with your hands, a habit you’d had since you were human, “My name’s Y/n, I met Carlisle a few hundred years ago.”

The three exchange looks with each other, then the blond woman looked back at you, her voice was cold. Sharp, "How come we have never heard of you?"

That was when Carlisle spoke up again, turning to the younger vampires, "I thought she was dead." Then he turned to you, "I looked for you, but after you left for Scotland, there was no trace of you."

You stared at Carlisle for a few seconds, did you feel relief or upset that he knew where you had left for? "You knew I left for Scotland?"

"Yes." He simply said, "One of the women who worked for your friend told me, but also mentioned something about Germany."

"Ah, yes." You smiled softly at yourself, looking at your boots. It was almost as if you reminiscing over those sweet, old memories, "Miss Delphine, a sweet lady, a shame I had to leave in such a hurry." You looked back up at Carlisle. "I was headed to Scotland, but I knew I was going to go further, just in case."

When no one spoke again, and the silence grew awkward, Carlisle turned the other three, then back to you, "Y/n, let me introduce you to my family, Edward, Rosalie and Emmett."

You nodded at them nervously, you were never good at introductions, even when you were expected to do them so frequently due to your consistent moving. “Hello.”

There was an odd silence between the five of you, but Carlisle was quick to end the awkwardness. It must have been odd. He had spent this much time by himself, believing that a dear friend of his was dead, only to find out you were perfectly fine - well, aside from the fact that you were a walking corpse for over four hundred years.

It was odd for you, you knew that too damn well. After all these centuries, beating yourself up for the unfavourable situation you and Carlisle were given - him having been a human when you met and you being a vampire. You had loved him for so long, never being able to get his damned voice out of your head, his smile, his face.

He was different from when you last saw him, that was one of the many things you were going to have to wrap your head around. His eyes were no longer their beautiful previous colour, now replaced by the shining gold colour you both now shared. He was paler than before, matching your frozen temperature and you could no longer smell his blood. Perhaps, you could be grateful for not having to take in the scent of his blood - it was a struggle for you all those years ago, and still arose as a problem even after centuries of living as a vampire.

"You three should head back home." Carlisle suggested to the three teenagers, they seemed hesitant at the thought, so Carlisle continued. "Please, me and Y/n have catching up to do."

It was took them a few moments to trust that Carlisle had faith in you, trusted that you wouldn't pose a threat of any kind. It was only when Carlisle made eye contact with the Edward boy, giving him a small nod. Edward had taken only a few, short seconds to give an approving nod, before speeding off with the two other hesitant vampires.

When the two of you were alone, really alone, you both simply stared at each other. Both of you wanted to say something, anything. But how could you? It had been around three hundred years since the two of you last each other, what if that spark between you two had died out? What if you two could no longer hold a meaningful, flowing conversation like you did before?

"Carlisle, I-" You only sighed out quietly, rubbing you eyes with your hand. "I've missed you, so much."

Carlisle only gave you a small smile, he took a step closer to you. "I have too."

You looked up at his golden eyes, you would miss his old coloured eyes - you decided - because you had found his previous eye colour so mesmerising, so different from yours. You wouldn't have wanted this cruel fate for Carlisle, never in your entire immortal life. Though, how bad could it really be? He was like you now, there's was no longer anything stopping you from trying to rekindle that old flame that burnt in your cold, dead heart for him.

You swiftly wrapped your arms around Carlisle, hugging him tightly. It wasn't long before his arms around around you, too. It had been the first time you two had ever hugged in the long time you've known each other. It held up to your expectations, to say the least.

"I don't want to lose you, Carlisle." You admitted quietly. "Not again. I don't want to leave your side, not like last time."

"I don't want that either." The blond replied almost as soon as you stopped talking, he didn't even want you to move from his embrace. "So don't leave my side."

"And stay?" You asked slowly.

"Stay for good." Carlisle said, looking down at you as his hands moved to cup your face. "Please."

"You mean join your coven?" You asked in a hushed voice, looking up at him as he looked down at him. Your question only resulted in a quick nod from him, even if non-verbal answers always seemed so confident.

You wasted no time in leaning upwards and placing your lips onto his, closing your eyes as you kissed him, which he kissed back as soon as your actions registered in his head.

The best part about being a vampire was that you two didn't need to breathe, which meant you two could have stayed like that for a few moments. However, when you parted your lips, you looked up at him.

"I'm never leaving your side again."

Masterlist

[coralinnii]

Hi! I just wanna say I love your villain/ness au 😍 especially leonas part thank you for giving me this story as I was finding stories like this💕💕so I was wondering can I request about the tweel? Their my most favorite in twisted wonderland 🙏 it will be my outmost joy to see you write them!

and sorry if im wrong in writing this request because this is actually my first time writing a request 😅 so thank you for the understanding 😁

Being Reincarnated into a New World as the Bad Guy feat: Jade genre: drama note: set in the same universe as previous works (Azul’s ver specifically), no pronouns were used, villain/ess!reader is not a merfolk, roughly 2k word count 

series masterlist

I know there's someone missing but Jade's portion got longer than I expected so I cutting it into separate posts. Floyd's part will be released soon so in the meantime, enjoy as we welcome the fourth vice-housewarden to this surprisingly popular AU.

Sorry 3aemidnight, that this is slightly subverted from the request but Floyd's part has that aspect more played into

You’re screwed. Absolutely screwed. Why did you end up in this situation?? You didn’t even read the webtoon! Your classmate was gushing over a popular webtoon and like a good friend, you lent an ear to her excited ramblings. Her favorite characters seem to be a pair of devilish merfolk brothers. It was that rambling that helped you realize where you were because you didn’t bother remembering the main cast but you couldn’t forget the name “Jade Leech” nor his partner, you. 

Or at least the character you possessed that your classmate kept wishing she could be. The lucky duck that became Jade’s betrothed but you couldn’t really agree with that sentiment when she mentioned how that same partner was left behind by the Leech heir and prosecuted as an accomplice to the Leech family’s underground activities. 

“What’s so great about the hopeless love trope?!” 

Unfortunately, the proceedings for your engagement to the suave marquis heir was set. Putting a wrench into the plans now would cause too many issues to both families. Still, you were determined to leave this crazy story unscathed no matter what. 

“Let’s make a contract” were your first words to your soon-to-be partner to which he responded with a curious quirk of his eyebrow. “a prenuptial to be precise” 

“But my dear,” a shiver ran down your spine when Jade used that supposedly endearing name, a superficial one of course. “What ever could have scared you to have such worries?” 

“Because I know what you and your family are trying to do” 

Oh, you have piqued Jade’s interest now.

Your listening skills have paid off as you remembered the plot of the Leech family. The brothers were working to extend their family’s power above the waters and to have an “organized system of connections” with the help of the newly appointed count Ashengrotto. With their intelligence and charm, they wanted to monopolize the marine market from local fishing rights to overseas trading. Unfortunately, the main leads stood in their way and forced the native merfolk to flee to their home, leaving those associated with them to answer for their crimes. 

You have no interest in being caught in the crossfire but becoming an enemy to the Leech family is not a favourable situation either. So your best option was… 

“I’ll help you” 

If you’re going to be accused as an accomplice, better be the best accomplice so neither of you get caught. 

The greatest challenge for merfolk on land was the discrimination that was still prevalent, even after the human-merfolk alliance. No matter how charming Jade was, it was hard for the merman to converse with the more narrow-minded noblemen. It was why the Leech heir agreed to the engagement as your family was beloved and highly respected in the kingdom. Your character was just an oblivious, lovestruck pawn to his plans. 

“I’ll play the perfect partner, give you the backing you need, the intel you want” you stated your terms, with no room for negotiation. “But, we’re publicly in an arranged engagement only, nothing else. We only meet when necessary and once your family secure the Triton ocean trade route, we’re breaking our engagement and never to speak to each other again” 

If the Leech family weren’t caught, they would have returned to their native home anyway and controlled the trading from the safety of the ocean. Either way, Jade would have been out of your life regardless, so you should at least escape prosecution. 

You weren’t falling for his gentleman facade, and you definitely refuse to be the one on the short end of the stick in his crazy family’s schemes. 

You and Jade were locked in a silent stare down, waiting for either one of you to break the silence. You kept your mouth shut, not letting your nerves talk yourself down. It was this or nothing. 

Your gamble paid off. Jade chuckled with a slight peek of his sharp teeth and extended his hand out, piercing your figure with a pair devilish eyes. 

“If that is what my dear wishes, how can I decline?” 

So sealed your deal with the devil your future ex-fiancé 

Some time passed since your agreement, you joined a soirée your family was invited to. As a newly engaged couple, it was expected for you to bring Jade to which he was happy to escort his precious person (you hid your scoff). True to your word, you agree to chat with some of the daughters and wives of certain families for certain intel that Jade needed. While the ladies were more tolerant of the merfolk, they held certain prejudices over them which would affect the conversation greatly should Jade attempt to speak with them. 

So off you go. 

It was surprisingly easy with the chatty ladies to gather what you needed to know. They were happy to brag about the wealth and connections their families had and the businesses they controlled. The number of employers, the unknowing dissatisfaction of their workers that went over their heads, the obvious limited knowledge over the sea routes…everything came loose from their lips and will inevitably be used against them later on. Once you mentally checked off what Jade requested you to find out, you were patiently waiting to take your leave when someone decided to steer the conversation to something else. 

“But enough about our families. How is your life as a newly betrothed, darling?” One of the wives brought the attention to you, which took you slightly by surprise. 

“Well, our families were growing close so we decided a union would be beneficial” you smiled as convincing as you could. “While we were arranged, I’m sure it will be an amiable alliance” 

“Oh, how lucky you are” one of the younger daughters congratulated as convincingly as her eyelashes were. “To be engaged to someone as distinguished and exotic as Jade Leech, your family connections must have been more impressive than I realize. I knew how enamored you were with the young heir, but to think a frumpy wallflower such as yourself managed to capture him. Good for you” 

Any semblance of tolerance you had for these women had just been thrown out the window. Even if you were detached from your host character in every sense, you felt anger building in your body from their haughty words. You quickly glanced to where Jade was and he was standing but with his signature smile and charming eyes engaging in conversation with other attendees, so you assumed he couldn’t hear from where he stood.

It’s not good to hold in your anger… so you don’t. 

“Interesting…if I’m a frumpy wallflower as you say, what would you be?” You pondered aloud with innocent tone of voice “bottom feeders?” 

Gasps and stuttering replies were let out from the flushing women, flabbergasted by your undignified words, but they haven’t heard anything yet. 

“Before my engagement, I often chatted with the current Marquis Leech and he was telling me how he was flooded by persistent engagement proposals for his heir that there wasn’t a day that a messenger wouldn’t visit the Leech residence.” 

That was a bold-faced lie about your meetings with the Marquis head but you recalled your classmate’s words of the mountains of proposals the Leech brothers would get, proving their in-universe popularity despite being discriminated against. Well, it’s not as though anyone would question your source, you were engaged to a Leech afterall.

The wives may have been confused but the younger ladies were visibly shaking as they watched you with nervous eyes, either praying you didn’t know the families that proposed or if you did, you’d keep silent over it. 

But you offer no such salvation from their humiliation 

“Out of the countless proposals, I seem to have been chosen over the ones who reached out first. In fact, some of the interested ladies are here in attendance today, such as Lady-“ 

You paused abruptly as you quickly back away as one of the single daughters reached for a drink and prepared to throw it into your face in desperation to avoid being exposed. Seems like you pushed a line too far. You closed your eyes, braced for a rude splash…

but nothing came. 

Surprised muttering and gasps compelled you to reopen your eyes but you were met with a lean chest and tall looming figure blocking you from the women. You leaned to the side and was shocked to see a large wet spot on Jade's pristine suit jacket, his back and shoulder drenched in champagne. You peeked at Jade's face as he wore his signature smile, appearing calm but you could have swore his jaw seemed more tight and strained as though he’s fighting something internally. 

Maybe you’re just reading too much into it. 

Any semblance of annoyance you thought you saw disappeared the moment the eel merman turned to face the ladies before. He placed his gloved hand over his heart and smiled as usual. 

“I believe this conversation may have gone on too long. Everyone is getting a little too tired and reckless. Perhaps we should cut the night short tonight, do you agree?” Jade proceeded to rest his hand on your shoulder, looking at you with faux concern. “Shall we take our leave, my dear?” 

Stomping down the involuntary shiver, you nodded and turned to walk away without saying goodbye to the ladies or even waited for Jade to walk with you. At least Jade had some strength to offer a bow and a smile before joining you. However, you didn't notice the way the ladies silently flinched in fear when they saw the dangerous glint in the young merman's mismatched eyes.

“I never realized you had such a fiery tongue,” Jade commented as the two of you make your way to your carriage, to which you clicked your tongue in annoyance. 

“So you were able to hear everything” you chose to change the topic. “You better not say anything to your father about what I said today. I needed to use an excuse” 

“You needn’t worry, my dear. I’m simply impressed you knew about the proposal letters.” Jade ended his words there, but you knew he was curious to know your sources, especially since it pertains to the ongoings in the Leech residence. 

“I heard some things, that’s all I’ll say” you held your tongue beyond that, your eyes relaying to Jade not to prod further, which he conceded. 

“Of course. I would never want to upset you, my dear.” Jade smiled at the slight shiver in your shoulders. 

“Alright, my turn to ask questions” you stopped in your tracks, forcing Jade to do the same, enticing his curiosity as you always seem to. Your eyes stared at the stained jacket that hung over Jade's arm, having taken it off to avoid the rest of his attire getting dirty. A sense of guilt pinched your heart as you questioned him, “Why did you save me? Sure, I’ll be slightly humiliated but I can just play the victim and ruin them further” 

Jade silently stood in his spot, as though he was seriously contemplating his previous actions. But you doubt that because Jade Leech does not do things impulsively. He’s calculating, his movements always premeditated and intentional. 

Right?

Then, the ocean-haired man slowly walked closer to you. Carefully, he reached out his gloved hand towards your cheek and wiped a small drop of champagne from your hairline. A minuscule drop must have made its way to your face without your awareness. But Jade noticed. The cold leather glided from your forehead to your ear, to which he crept closer as he leaned down and whispered to you. 

“We made a deal, my dear” his smooth voice vibrated clearly into your head and your instinctive shiver came once more from his name for you. “I plan to make good use of you and I will not permit anyone from ruining you before I’m done” 

You sealed your fate with Jade, so you must commit to the end.

[mjjune]

How To Have a Good Beta Reading Experience (or: what I've learned from 3 years of beta reading)

So lately I've been having a lot of discussions about beta reading with my discord groups so I thought I would write it out here and also share some resources I've used over the years.

This is mostly by and for writers, however readers can learn from this post as well!

DISCLAIMER: I'm by no means a writing expert, but I have been either beta reading others' books, or having my own stories beta read consistently since 2020. THIS IS ALL PERSONAL EXPERIENCE/OPINION. Others may agree or disagree ❤️

Here are the main points I'm going to talk about in this post, and I'll do it under the cut to save your dash space:

Understanding Alpha vs. Beta Readers

Choosing Readers

Being Clear About Feedback

Swapping / Compensation

The Importance of Writing Community/Groups

Websites/Resources for Finding Beta Readers

1. Understanding Alphas vs. Betas

So this is extremely important and for me, this may be the difference between me finishing your book or not. Many times, especially from new writers who had never had anyone read their work before, had extremely rough drafts that were barely coherent and were NOT beta ready, but asked me to beta read. I am not a person who can look past extensive grammar errors, nor am I the kind of person who will sit and fix all your grammar line-by-line for you.

Alpha Readers - for first/second drafts

Beta Readers - for polished drafts

It is ok for alpha reads to be unpolished and have grammar issues, and it's even ok if they have plot issues, continuity errors, etc. Because alpha readers are there for that purpose: to be the first eyes on your story and help you find and fix those issues.

The issue I have had over and over, though, is people asking for a beta reader when what they really needed was an alpha. I went in expecting a polished draft and got someone's Draft 0. In some cases, I got 100k drafts where the writer obviously had no idea how to format dialogue grammar and every single dialogue was wrong. Obviously this made me slow and in many cases, unable to finish.

Alpha readers will go in expecting it to be unpolished, and will be prepared to look past grammar/stylistic errors in order to focus on the big picture issues (plot holes, character consistency, pacing/engagement issues, etc). A Beta may be too frustrated by an unpolished draft to finish it or provide the feedback you're looking for. If you have been experiencing a lot of betas backing out and not finishing your work, you might consider this as a possible reason why.

I would also recommend, if you have never had anyone read your work before, even if you have had multiple drafts, it might be safest to ask for alphas rather than betas.

A quick way to see if your work is beta ready (again, personal experience): Pick up a published book from the shelf in your genre. Does your book read similarly? Does your formatting & grammar look the same? Bonus: read it out loud! If reading the published book out loud is significantly easier than reading yours out loud, you're probably in the alpha stage.

TL;DR: Understand your draft and which level of reader your draft is ready for. Know the difference between polished and unpolished, and be upfront about it.

2. Choosing Alphas/Betas

You may not like it but: Just because someone is your friend, real life or online, does not mean they will make a good reader for you.

#1 MOST IMPORTANT: GET READERS WHO LIKE & REGULARLY READ YOUR GENRE!

I cannot stress this enough. As someone who writes vampire content, I cannot begin to express to you the amount of useless comments I got from readers who had clearly never read a vampire book in their life.

You need someone who is familiar with your genre and you likes your synopsis/blurb.

Caveat: that said, I did find a few great betas who had never read vampire content before and gave awesome feedback. However, these readers knew and admitted they knew nothing about the paranormal genre, and because of that did not make any comments on worldbuilding, instead sticking to plot and character development only. Some readers can't make this separation.

Another thing I would recommend, especially if you are swapping or the beta reader is also a writer/on writeblr, I would recommend reading their writing before having them beta read. If you read their excerpts and see that it's really unpolished or a style that's vastly different than yours, that might change whether you want them to read for you.

In my most recent beta round, I used a google form to do a quick survey to see who was interested in beta reading. This worked really well for me and I would recommend it! You can also use this to make all potential readers agree to not share/distribute/plagiarize your work, so you have it in writing just in case someone were to try something.

This was also a great way to see which genres they usually read and how many times they have beta read in the past!

TL;DR: Get readers who LIKE your genre. Read their writing and see how they write. Use an online signup form to narrow down.

3. Be Clear About The Type of Feedback You Want

This is perhaps the second most important thing when you get readers. Many readers will shy away from reading your work if you have nothing in mind for them to look out for. Also, being clear about this shows that you 1) know it isn't perfect and needs work and 2) you have insight into what the issues already are.

For Alphas, these traits are what I have found to be the most helpful:

Immediate inline reactions - particularly emotional engagement and pointing out lines that resonated with them

NO grammar/stylistic comments (unless incomprehensible)

Questioning of worldbuilding, character decisions, and character development - particularly if confusing or unclear

Comments on action sequences & their readability

Comments on believability of the plot points/progression

For Betas, these are what have been most helpful to me:

Comments on grammar, especially if repetitive

Stylistic comments, particularly for over-used words or noticeably repetitive sentence structures

Comments on pacing

Comments on plot initiation point and buildup/execution of the climax

Not questioning my worldbuilding/plot and trusting that what I have written is intentional. Only pointing out areas that have on-page evidence of inconsistencies.

Everything above is simply personal preference. You might find other comments to be better for alphas/betas. However, being upfront about which comments you want or don't want can drastically change which people want to read for you!

Some readers are obsessed with in-depth inline grammar/style comments, some aren't at all. Some writers LOVE these in-depth grammar comments, and some don't. Being clear about what you want is the best way to make sure you and your readers are compatible for the stage of editing you're at.

4. Swapping / Compensation

So this one I might have a bit of an unpopular opinion, but I wanted to cover it because so many people talk about it on here and other sites.

Again, based on my personal experience, swapping and compensation does not mean you're going to get better feedback or have a better experience or relationship with readers.

For the record, for everyone who beta reads for me—and finishes—I always offer to read theirs, even if it's a genre I don't like.

Personally, I have never tried compensation (re: money) for beta readers. However, there are a few issues I've come across with swapping:

Mine was beta ready and theirs was unpolished first draft

Our types of feedback didn't align

Our genre preferences didn't align

Their feedback was nowhere near as high quality or constructive as mine

In these cases, one or both of us burnt out on reading the others' work, and then we'd both bail. Especially with #4, it was very disheartening for me to spend hours finding their plot holes, helping them come up with ways to fix them, for them to then write 1 paragraph about what they thought of my story that was extremely surface level. To me, that wasn't even a swap, and was practically worthless. There was even one who got sensitive about the feedback I was providing (which was a queer sensitivity read) and then left almost identical comments on my story, which weren't even relevant. It was like revenge-commenting.

All this to say: I have had positive experiences with swaps. My alpha for twtr was a swap and I really enjoy her work and she enjoys mine, and we will probably continue to swap forever.

This goes back to #2 above: be picky & choose your readers well. Your story is your baby, and it deserves to be critiqued by people who value you and your story, and want to help you make it the best possible version of itself.

To summarize, I have had two good swapping experiences. I have had 10+ good uncompensated betas—with an offer for me to read their stuff when it's ready. Do with that what you will.

5. Writing Community / Groups

On to a more positive note! I have had the best experience here on writeblr, and this is coming from someone who has tried multiple other communities (which I discuss in the last section below). Having my own discord server from tumblr, joining a few other writers' discord servers, has completely changed the game regarding finding consistent betas, more resources, and just having an overall much more positive time writing and editing.

Writeblr keeps me grounded, keeps me hopeful, and even if I share something that doesn't get tons of notes, it's so nice to have interaction. It's so nice to give and get back, consistently.

I do want to emphasize the importance of giving to get back. If no one is liking/interacting with your excerpts, tag/ask games, etc. then that's probably because you're not interacting with them! It's very important to show interest in other people's work!!

I'm not saying you need to jump onto everyone's taglists for all their wips, but join the ones that genuinely interest you the most. Play in ask/tag games consistently. Follow writers back who follow you (if they post things you're interested in, ofc).

I have the same amount of followers as the people I follow right now, and I think that goes to show that people reciprocate here on writeblr! It's a lovely community and don't be afraid to reach out ❤️

I have found almost ALL my recent betas from my tumblr and discord groups. They have been lovely so far and I would highly recommend building up community here if you are interested in finding betas.

6. Websites/Resources for Finding Betas

Alright, last section. Thanks for bearing with me. I'm going to go through the sites I have used, and why I still use them, or why I dropped them.

Scribophile

So, for starters, this is one I don't use anymore. This was the site I first used when I had a polished draft in 2020 and had no idea how to get feedback. Essentially, they have a point-system. The more comments you make, the more points you get, and then when you have 3 points, you can post a chapter. It continues in a cycle.

Pros: Personally, I think the site helped me a lot in realizing what a bad critique looks like (which is helpful!) and also helped me learn which comments/feedback types work for me, and which don't. I don't regret my time there by any means, and I found one life-long friend and beta reader there I wouldn't trade for the world. It also allows you to post/remove your story and the readers don't have direct access to it—meaning if they want to download/steal/plagiarize, they'd have to copy and paste or screenshot chapter by chapter. It's a little safety precaution.

Cons: It's not the best place to get constructive feedback. The issue with their system is it encourages quantity over quality in critiques. Because of that, you'll get strangers rewriting your entire chapter in their own style so they get 2-3 points for one critique, but... was any of it actually helpful to you? Maybe, maybe not. It's also random, so you can't control who comments on your stuff, and they might just comment to get points even if they hate your genre. I also don't think it's fair to have to do 3-5 chapter critiques in order to save up enough points to post ONE chapter of your own. And if you want to post your story for full beta reads and control who reads it and who doesn't, you have to subscribe monthly.

So I keep an eye on it occasionally to look through their forums on writing, agents, publishing, etc. But most of the forums gets nasty, because there are a lot of really pretentious writers who think they know all the rules. If you join small groups (e.g. sub-groups based on diversity, etc) they tend to have better and more meaningful discussions.

Personally, I would never use it for beta/alpha/feedback ever again. This is the site where most of my bad swaps came from. But you might find it useful! So I thought I would share it.

Nanowrimo Forums

This is another one I don't use anymore, but might consider reusing in the future. The biggest issue I have with nanowrimo is that a lot, and I mean A LOT, of these participants are first-time writers and have no concept of what polished vs. unpolished even means. I did find two really good swaps there (actually the only two good full swaps I've had) but those were very hard to find.

There is also the issue that a good chunk of them only write during November, not year round. So for finding consistent, year-long partners, this is not the best option. I'm a member of 2 discords that have all fallen silent as soon as Nano actually ended.

Also, in my experience, asking questions about anything related to "controversial" topics (especially trans and minority ethnic groups) becomes toxic very quick, which is unfortunate. There are even a few moderators who seem to be contributing to the toxic/immature discussions rather than fixing them/shutting them down, which is the main reason I stopped using it.

However, it's a GREAT place to get free, simple covers! Their artisan section is fantastic and there are a lot of people there willing to make basic covers/banners for you for free.

BetaBooks

I've only been using this one about a month so far, but I'm really liking it. It's set up that you can invite betas to your story specifically, or you can look through a beta reader library, read their profiles, and invite them to see if they're interested.

This is essentially an alternative to Scribophile. It allows you to post your story online and find betas and become a beta.

Why I like it better than Scribophile: it's not a point-based system, meaning it's uncompensated so the readers have nothing to gain other than enjoying/helping your story. There's no hard feelings if someone bails. It allows you to see all comments in one place (which Scrib can't do). (And with discount codes found through google, it's cheaper, too. Message me if you need help with this 👀)

It also is all online, easily removable, so readers would have to copy/paste or screenshot chapter-by-chapter to steal it. So again, just a little safety net that makes me feel better.

Writeblr

Yep, that's right. Right here. Actually right here on tumblr has been where I have found the most beta readers and in the shortest time. I talked about this in the section before so I won't regurgitate. But there's a reason why this community is so long-lasting. It really is the best one out there I've found.

TL;DR / IN CONCLUSION:

Know where your book is in terms of reader-readiness. Know the difference between alphas/betas and polished/unpolished. Know the types of feedback that work for you and specifically request it when recruiting betas.

Interact with a community. Give interaction in order to receive, and don't expect people to reblog/like your content if you don't reach out first. Join small, niche writing community discords. Find like-minded writers.

Decide to swap or not, but this won't make or break you.

There are many writing communities out there designed to help you not only find betas, to provide beta-reading feedback forms and commentary. Try them out and see what works best for you.

And above all, thank Writeblr for being such a lovely community ❤️

[ianthe-is-a-bitch-and-i-love-her]

I first realized that the best ghost stories are love stories after watching The Haunting of Bly Manor, and though I've experienced a lot of media since that reaffirmed that understanding, The Narrow by Kate Alice Marshall really feels like it's closing the loop. It rhymes with Bly in a way that feels like I've come to the end of some great journey, and am now prepared to start another. Like Bly, The Narrow is a story about abuse. It's a story about possession, in more than one sense. And it's a story that asserts that true love, the love that's worth keeping, is the love that knows how to let go.

Our story follows Eden, a senior at a prestigious private boarding high school rich with history and legends, especially around its deadly river, The Narrow, which is unapologetically based on the Bolton Strid. Eden is excited to return to school and escape a summer vacation marred by a profound abuse that she is refusing to think about. However, upon arrival she discovers that her parents have neglected to pay her tuition - coincidentally, they've had to pay a lot of legal fees recently - and she is forced to take on a unique arrangement to remain enrolled. She must act as the live-in companion of fellow student Delphine, a reclusive girl who cannot leave her carefully refurbished dorm room, as any contact with water sends her into seizures. Eden knows something about Delphine that almost no one else does, however - at the beginning of her first year, Eden saw Delphine fall into The Narrow and be swept away - and what The Narrow takes is never returned.

The mystery at the heart of the story is, ultimately, not that complicated, but it is beautiful in its simplicity and the way it plays with the reader's expectations. Those expectations are shaped heavily by Eden's point of view, and Eden is a triumph of an unreliable narrator. She actively avoids thinking about things that weigh on her and occasionally skates over her own actions where they clash with her self-image, but these more obvious and dramatic omissions draw attention away from the subtler ways that her biases and coping mechanisms shape her understanding of the world around her, and it took me until about the three-quarters mark to know where and how to disbelieve her perceptions. She is incredibly compelling, deeply empathetic, and absolutely drowning in self-worth issues. The supporting cast is equally compelling, and the author injects a surprising sense of depth into each member of her friend group in remarkably few lines. Each give the impression of being flawed, well-rounded, but fundamentally decent people, and they all feel very distinct from one another. I was going to highlight one of them as a favorite example, but I genuinely can't pick between them. The adults too are well-rounded and compelling, which I feel is often a shortcoming of horror in an academic setting (is that what dark academia is? no one will tell me). And of course Delphine herself is quite compelling; a little odd, very intense, and eminently sympathetic, her dynamic with Eden is fresh, engaging, and believable.

One thing I really want to highlight about this story is its willingness to engage with real-life messiness that is often elided in ghost stories and love stories. The mechanics of the supernatural are not well understood in this story, and no tomes of ancient lore exist to guide the protagonists. Their methods of interfacing with the supernatural are cobbled together from their own intuition and their vague impressions of the occult from pop culture and religious mysticism, and their efficacy is neither reliable nor consistent. Similarly, the story is not afraid of engaging with the fragility and volatility of young love, the way it can feel all-consuming and eternal in one moment and fizzle out the next. This sort of messiness always appeals to me in fiction, and it is remarkably rare outside of deliberate genre subversions, so I was absolutely thrilled with it here.

I would recommend The Narrow without hesitation to anyone who likes ghost stories. I would also recommend it for its exploration of abuse in a variety of forms, and for its depiction of the aftermath of said abuse. Take that same recommendation as a content warning, though, and I'll toss in a more specific one for involuntary drug use.

[familyabolisher]

Sorry to ask something somewhat related to the recent discourse, but do you have any advice to someone trying to teach themselves lit analysis or lit theory? Seems like most online advice ends at "get an English degree lol"

first of all sorry for leaving this for so long, between work and various other Demands in my life i didn’t really have the time/energy to sit down and write up a proper answer for a while. anyway: imo, what’s more important than working your way through a long list of critical theory is honing an ability to respond to a text yourself; being able to take notice of your emotional responses, being able to ask questions about what the text does and what it responds to and whether you think it succeeds or fails. questions like ‘what is the text about?’ are often too vague, and assume that critical practice is a task limited to investigating the ‘correct’ metaphysical properties of a text that we have to uncover, as well as presenting literature as wholly utilitarian (under this framework, a text becomes a vehicle for a ‘theme,’ and nothing more.) in the list below, i’ve tried to be a little more precise about the kinds of questions that can help you become a more confident + critical reader.

[disclaimer: i am not any kind of expert, i have studied english lit at degree level and i do read a lot / make a habit of talking about what i read, but i would not consider myself especially ‘qualified’ and nor should you. i’m explaining a process that works for me, not providing a one-size-fits-all solution to the question of analytical methodology.]

the essence of literary practice is that a text has a terrain where it has to be met with, and where it will be accountable to forces that are often beyond its control or beyond its immediate borders, and a terrain where it asks to be met with, and towards which it will attempt to navigate the reader; the reader’s job is to meet with it on both terrains, synthesise them, and respond to them. so, some of the questions you should be asking about a text include:

what is its context? this can mean a lot of things: when and where was it written, and how might the conditions contemporary to its creation be informing the inner working of the text? is it considered part of a particular literary movement; how does it interact with the core characteristics of that movement? does it invoke other works; if so, how does it respond to them? what biographical information about the author might be relevant to the piece? some books will come with an introduction which, if written well, would cover at least the outstanding details on this list; you can also have a look on wikipedia or other such websites to get a feel for the conditions under which the text was created.

how does it respond to this context? rather than assuming a text to be a passive body onto which its external conditions are exerting their unilateral force, we should always understand a text as being in active dialogue with the context that shaped it. what are the questions typically posed within the movement or genre to which it belongs; how does it answer these questions? does it build on its predecessors in any way? if it’s a responsive text (ie. consistently invoking an earlier text), what does it have to say about the text to which it responds; how does it develop or contravene the template from which it was building? how might it be responding to the questions of its time; which paradigms are challenged? which are endorsed, actively or tacitly? what goes unmentioned? i emphasise critical engagement with context so heavily because it’s often where the meat of the text can be found. 

what are the conditions which made this text possible? this is a little different to questions about context, which have a far broader scope; this is a question which seeks to treat a text not as a thing that came into existence of its own accord, but as a thing that emerged as a result of a process of material production that depends upon particular conditions. is it a mainstream publishing house, or an indie press, or self-published? how does this affect its authority, or the standard to which we hold it? how does this affect its relationship to narratives of cultural hegemony? what can that tell us about what hegemony can and cannot absorb? this is me being a big marxist about it but i think this question is woefully neglected in literary studies lol

why did the author make the choices that they made? one of the most important things to remember when it comes to literary analysis is that every choice made in a text is deliberate; every choice about what happens, what a character says and does, what a character looks like, how particular characters interact, how scenes and objects and settings are described, what prose style is employed, what word is used in a sentence, etc., is a deliberate choice being made by an external agent (ie. the author, sometimes/arguably also the editor, also the translator if a text is in translation), and those choices are accountable both to the deliberations of the author and the external cultural narratives with which they necessarily enter into a dialogue. ‘why does a character behave in a particular way’ is not a question that invites you to treat the story like a riddle for which you can find an ‘answer,’ but a question that engenders the following: what does their behaviour reveal about the character, and how might this be situated within the discourse of the wider text? does this behaviour reveal any biases on the part of the author? what sort of expectations does this behaviour establish, and are those expectations met or neglected or subverted? the same process can be applied to themes, settings, plot beats - anything, really. why is this particular adjective used - does it have other connotations that the author might want to draw attention to in relation to the object being described? why does this chapter end here and not here? nobody in a novel has agency that extends beyond the boundaries of the novel itself; part of the practice of analysis means discerning which choices were made and why, and whether those choices were good or bad. 

what is your response? analysis is a misleading term for this practice; it’s less about dispassionately picking at a text in search of an ‘answer’ and more about evaluation - assessing the text’s successes and failures and cultivating your personal response to it, which means paying attention to your responses as you go along. some people would argue that ‘did you like/dislike this’ is a juvenile question, but i would disagree - knowing whether you liked or disliked something and being able to describe why it evoked that reaction in you is crucial to an evaluative practice. a text can be conceptually excellent, but falter if its prose is clunky or uninspired or unimaginative; being able to notice when a text isn’t engaging you and asking why that is is an important part of this evaluative process. similarly, what do you make of the themes and developments present in the text; does it dissect its themes with precision, or does it make broad gestures towards concepts without ever articulating them fully? is it original? does it have sufficient depth to it? do you agree with it? are you compelled by it? if you were asked the questions that the novel tries to respond to, what would you say; do you think that the novel misses anything out? has it challenged your own perspective? what are its limitations?

literary analysis is a learned skill, but by its nature of being a skill it gets a lot easier over time, and some of these questions will become intuitive. a good way to hone the skill and develop a greater intimacy with a text is through close reading; this refers to the practice of selecting a passage (or even just a sentence) and picking it apart line by line (word by word, even) to describe in intimate detail exactly how the sentence(s) came to be formed in the way that it/they did. i’ll use the first few sentences of daphne du maurier’s rebecca as an example.

Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again. It seemed to me I stood by the iron gate leading to the drive, and for a while I could not enter, for the way was barred to me. There was a padlock and chain upon the gate. I called in my dream to the lodge-keeper, and had no answer, and peering closer through the rusted spokes of the gate I saw that the lodge was uninhabited.

so a close reading of these sentences might identify:

‘last night i dreamt i went to manderley again’ is in iambic hexameter; this rhythmically satisfying invocation makes for a smooth opening sentence, and contrasts with the longer, more complex sentences that follow on. the change in rhythm through such a contrast helps to maintain momentum throughout the paragraph.

the first sentence also introduces a few key pieces of information - that this story is being told from the first person, that we are opening with a dream (and that the narrative places stock in the significance of dreams), and that the speaker is going to manderley ‘again’ - ie. that this is opening after an event in which manderley was significant. that the speaker going to manderley ‘again’ in a dream holds importance implies an exile from manderley in the ‘real’ world; this already gives us hints at the broader shape of the narrative. 

the speaker’s intimacy with manderley and disregard for ‘telling’ the reader what it is (we do not get, like, ‘manderley is a house’ or something - the passage continues as though we know what manderley is already) helps to develop our sense of immersion in the dreamscape. it also sets manderley up as a place of immense significance.

both ‘it seemed to me’ and the later ‘i called’ have a matter-of-factness to them, a certain dry reporting of the events of the dream which, rather than situating the reader within the texture of the dream itself, refortify us as outside of it, listening to it be explained after the fact.

‘for a while i could not enter, for the way was barred to me’ continues the theme of implied exile that the first sentence gestured towards. the iambic trimeter on ‘the way was barred to me’ creates a lilting cadence which, along with the use of the passive voice, detaches the speaker from an emotive response to this being ‘barred’; it is a reported dream that will not consciously acknowledge the speaker’s feelings about being exiled from manderley at this time. (we instead infer these feelings through how the chapter develops.)

‘there was a padlock and chain upon the gate,’ as a short sentence, falls into the same matter-of-fact register as that which i alluded to above, partly through the use of the passive voice, and - as i explained earlier - varies the length of sentences such that the paragraph retains a particular buoyancy. 

the development from the speaker calling to the lodge-keeper to not getting an answer to seeing that the lodge is uninhabited tells a story wherein the speaker at first has authority such that a lodge-keeper would respond to her and let her in; this authority is negated by the lack of response; the lodge-keeper is found to be absent in a development that took place whilst she was herself away, presumably in the state of exile that we have inferred her to be in. ‘uninhabited’ is the kind of word you would expect to be used for an area of land, often with a colonial connotation; this introduces a theme that this chapter (& the book as a whole) goes on to develop, of manderley being a site of colonial decay; as reinforced by the ‘rusted spokes.’

in my experience, close reading is a technique best practiced on poetry, but it’s a very helpful skill to develop in general, and implementing it with prose can elucidate the nuances of a text far more clearly than you might initially realise. in a well-written novel, language is very deliberate and precise!

i think the best thing you can do to develop your skills as a critical reader is to read carefully, and to keep track of your responses to a text as best as possible. keeping a note of what you think a text achieves and how you respond to it each time you read one can be a good way of sorting your thoughts into something coherent and developing your ability to articulate a response. anyway, hopefully this has provided something resembling a guide for how to develop the thought processes that go behind critical practice!

[horse-girl-anthy]

under the cut, I discuss my relationship with RGU and how it influences my understanding of the show's purpose.

it's been 10 years since I first watched RGU. I didn't go into it looking for anything intellectual or challenging. even at that age, 16, I was seeking out complex art, but in 2014, RGU didn't have quite the overbearing reputation that it does now--or anyway, I'd missed out it being considered a cryptic masterpiece. my impression of RGU was that it was a "shoujo romance" but with two girls instead of a het ship. I was totally on board with that.

I think going into it with that mindset mafde my relationship with the work different from a lot of other fans'. at a fundamental level, I don't view the show as a "critique" of shoujo tropes, or of fairy tale romance. there was a time during which I was persuaded to see it that way, but I don't anymore, and a lot of that is down to thinking back to my younger self.

I've talked about this before, but I didn't engage all that deeply with RGU at first. it unsettled and confused me in a way I wasn't prepared to deal with. since I'd expected a much simpler story, I kept resisting the more complex aspects of the work. what's more, it was touching on things I didn't want touched on. Utena, Anthy, and Nanami were all characters I was afraid to fully identify with, and Akio was a violation of all my girlhood dreams and ideals.

despite that, I was very moved by the final episode and would rewatch it off and on for years after. I remember being 18, very lonely and upset in my college dorm room, and telling myself, "there's no prince coming to save you," which to me meant "there is no force to rely on other than yourself." I'd, of course, thought things like that before, but this time it sunk all the way down to my bones. I explicitly linked this revelation to RGU.

still, I think back to those girlish feelings, which RGU trampled on so thoroughly, with a sense of nostalgia and tenderness. RGU carefully outlines the dangers of dependence, particularly when it is caught up in gendered power struggles. yet, it's only natural for a person who's still a child to be dependent. I don't think we need to "critique" dependence; we just need to understand it. RGU is much more sympathetic to kids than people give it credit for. it's sympathizing with the painful process of becoming independent--an adult.

going further, why exactly was I looking for a "shoujo romance" with two girls? it wasn't as if I was stupid or mindless. I knew that a lot of the romance content I was consuming wasn't "high art." I did, in fact, read several straightforward yuri romances where girls just saved each other and nothing particularly "deconstructive" happened. I liked them, just like I liked the het and the BL I read.

are some of those types of stories regressive? sure. but honestly, most of them are just meant to make the readers feel comforted. even though my tastes are more sophisticated now, it's not as if I'll turn down comfort in art today either.

to bring it back to RGU, I think what I'm getting at is that I don't see it was a work which is casting judgment at all, not on other stories nor those who consume them. I think it actually captures the appeal of romance to the fullest extent. for instance, the tenderness, protectiveness, and yearning between Utena and Anthy, as well as much of the story's angst and melodrama. I was very unhappy as a teenager. I liked stories about love; I liked to imagine that I could love and be loved. in that way, RGU wasn't so different from any other romance I enjoyed.

there's a "have your cake and eat it too" aspect of the story. it uses the wrappings of genre to engender emotional investment, and that level shouldn't be discounted, because it's the foundation of the work. then the mature themes are layered on that foundation. thus, RGU both captures the primal emotional appeal of love stories AND demonstrates that, unless you become an adult and free yourself of illusions, you'll never be able to attain love. it depicts people rising above systems which seek to manipulate their desire for love and connection, but said manipulation should not obscure the motivating drive of the series. not only does RGU not condemn "the shoujo genre," but it is actually the pinnacle of shoujo romance for refining the deepest desires of its core demographic.

[heavens-moonlight]

𝗕𝗢𝗥𝗗𝗘𝗥𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗘𝗦 | 𝗦𝘆𝗻𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗦𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘆 𝗡𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀

𝟬𝟭 : 𝗠𝗜𝗦𝗔𝗗𝗩𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗨𝗥𝗘

Hiding deep affection for someone is one of life’s most difficult games to play: secret glances, hesitant conversations, and heart-pounding moments filled with anticipation.

Or so you thought.

But when a school trip takes a turn for the worse, you and your fellow classmates find yourselves entangled in a chilling mystery under the guise of a mafia game orchestrated by an elusive creator, the stakes for victory become just that much higher.

With tension escalating, friendships, loyalty, and concealed sentiments are put to the test as secrets unravel, forcing everyone to their limits. Faced with the option of life or death, just how far will the desperation of human nature push against the borderlines of morality?

Authors Note: I didn’t think I’d be back to writing for another series in full so soon, but clearly, I have a love for high school-themed horror stories so here we are once again. There is a face claim (Jung Da-Bin) as well as a name (Han Seol-Hwa) for those who don’t like to imagine themselves in place of the main female lead while reading! This is a story where you don't have to watch the show beforehand to understand (as long as you know how the mafia game is played!) Here’s to hoping this will be a fun ride for Night Has Come fans, Kim Jun-Hee enthusiasts, and lovers of green-flag characters ♡

𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐓

It is necessary to issue a warning regarding the upcoming horror and gore apparent, as this genre can provide an exhilarating and thrilling experience for those who seek it, yet caution is urged in proceeding further for those who wish to avoid it. Viewer discretion is advised when engaging with this work, for content will include the darkest recesses of human nature, graphic violence, visceral descriptions, and unsettling themes such as bloodshed, dismemberment, psychological torment, death, and explicit language that may be disturbing to some readers.

This book is purely a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are entirely products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual events, locals, persons, living or dead, is absolutely coincidental. All credit goes to the creators of Netflix's Night Has Come and the webtoon it's based off of by the same name for the characters, plotline, and overarching flow of events. I do not own anything aside from the creative license of elements that deviate from the original works including, but not limited to, dialogue, characterization, narrative, and reader-insert.

Understand that this fictional narrative does not condone or glorify criminal activities nor any form of violence. The portrayal of mafias and their actions is purely for dramatic effect and storytelling purposes. It is essential to approach this story as a work of fiction that should not be taken as an accurate reflection of real-life situations or individuals. Moreover, the depiction of high school characters should not be misconstrued as an endorsement or encouragement of any behavior that may create fear, discomfort, or harm among individuals in educational settings.

As is such, readers are advised to engage with this story responsibly, keeping in mind its intended entertainment value while differentiating between fiction and reality.

PLEASE DO NOT PLAGIARIZE, TRANSLATE, DISTRIBUTE, OR UPLOAD MY WORK ELSEWHERE AND CLAIM IT UNDER A DIFFERENT NAME.

𝟬𝟭 : 𝗠𝗜𝗦𝗔𝗗𝗩𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗨𝗥𝗘

[lani-heart]

|| series masterlist || next // previously

parings -> sim jaeyun x reader genre -> non-idol au, school au, hyrbid au warnings -> neglected, running away, arrange marriage word count -> 1.4k

abstract -> everything was a lie... well... not everything

y/n’s perspective 

“Asahi, please… you must’ve seen her!” Hyunsuk whined through the phone while Asahi glared at me. “Yah! How many times have I told you?! I have an internship, and I've been helping Junghwan pack. She’ll show up eventually, Hyunsuk” he said, already annoyed by our quarrel. 

“I know… I'm just worried. I’m even thinking of going there myself soon… I just need to wrap a few things up so when I get there how about we hang out? After I found my sister… “ he said and I sighed. 

“You’re screwed,” Jaehyuk said and I agreed. It doesn’t help that I've been getting constant messages on my phone and calls worrying about me…

“Bye,” he said as he hung up and glared silently. I smiled through the awkward silence. “Explain right now why I can tell him you're here? I understand you said you had a big fight with your parents but… you never offered an explanation?!” he said frustrated and I sighed. 

“Do you know that rich family my parents wanted to connect me and Hyunsuk with? Well, they have a son and daughter. Their daughter is my age… so they wanted her to be engaged with Hyunsuk. So when he started rebelling that was his last straw. Now they're trying to set me up with their son… especially now that hybrid-human relationships were starting to become common in our socialite life” I said and he sighed. 

“Why haven’t you told him then? Hyunsuk could help–" "Cause I'm still planning on going back… I just don’t want to be given an arranged marriage” I said and he nodded. 

“Didn’t Niki’s owner get into an arranged marriage?” Jaehyuk asked and I nodded. “Yeah… I think that's where they got the idea from” I muttered and he sighed. 

“It's only a matter of time before he finds you here,” he said and I nodded. 

“I think I'm going out for some air?” I said and I noticed Jaehyhuk go by the door. “No… Asahi, you can't make him come with me every time I go out. I need… alone time” I said and he scoffed. 

“Look… if this was Seoul, you could but this isn’t. If you weren’t walking around in Prada shoes and Chanel jewelry then maybe I wouldn't worry” he said and I smiled. 

“And thank you for worrying… but trust me a little?”

I decided I wanted to go outside of this little town. 

“Hello, I'm here to see So Junghwan?” I said and the receptionist nodded before telling me… “It seems he isn’t here, we were told he was going on a trip?” she said and I sighed. 

He must’ve already checked out… I thanked her for leaving when I bumped into someone familiar. “Oh? Jake?” I said, now confused. His messy blonde hair was the only thing I recognized… he was dressed in all black with expensive clothes… “y/n!” he said with a happy grin. “Looks like you recuperated,” I said and he chuckled. “Oh… yeah, it was just a little misunderstanding,” he said and I nodded. “What… happened? If I may ask?” I said and he looked hesitant. “Ah! Sorry if I'm being rude–" "No… don't worry about it. Uhmm… I’m actually from Australia and… I lost my luggage and wallet, even my phone!” he said. 

“Oh… that sucks. Have you filled in a lost report?” I asked and he nodded. “Yeah, but I luckily recuperated my wallet and luggage… well some at least. I don’t have my ID yet, nor a phone” he said and I nodded. 

“I’m glad you’ve managed–” “Can I repay you?” he asked while cutting me off. I would say no… but I didn’t want to go back. 

“Sure!” 

jake’s perspective

I know I shouldn’t be using someone else’s money to repay her but… she was so kind to me and seemed a little down. 

“So what made you decide to come here to Korea?” she asked me and I had to come out with believable lies. “Oh… well, I wanted a break. Everything right now was overwhelming back where I'm from” which wasn’t necessarily a lie. 

“Oh, I see… I'm sorry. I hope everything gets better. I’m actually in the same boat…” she said with a sad smile. I didn’t like seeing that… for her. 

“I’m actually from Seoul,” she said and I wasn’t surprised by that… “I’m actually a student–” I was surprised she was a student at where I took these etiquette classes. “I’ve been enrolled online for this semester though,” she said and I nodded. “It must be stressful… that's a pretty good school I've heard?” I said and she nodded. 

“Yeah… but it's stressful because of… well my parents' ' she confessed and I listened to her say how pressured she felt and how her older brother was the rebelled child making her their second chance at a good kid. 

“I’m sorry to hear that… It does sound stressful. Do you have good friends?” I asked and she smiled. “I do… Me and my brother actually grew up in the same friend group, weird enough. Of course, I've met other people too, but sometimes I need a break from everything” she said and I agreed. 

“That hybrid… you said he was your friend right?” I asked and she nodded… it didn’t seem like he told her I was one. “Jaehyuk… he’s a lion hybrid. Have you ever had one?” she asked me and I chuckled. “No, and you?” I asked and she shook her head which surprised me. 

“I always wanted one though… my parents thought it would be a distraction though,” she said and I wanted so badly to try to charm her but… she’d probably report me for theft. 

“If you could have a hybrid… which would you choose?” I asked only to set myself up more. She smiled though… “I always wanted a dog hybrid… they seem so cuddly and sweet you know?” she said and I felt my heart ache. 

“I get what you mean,” I said and she chuckled. “How about you?” she asked and I found this all too ironic. “I’d choose the same,” I said and she smiled. “You know… you look like you’d be a dog hybrid” she said and I froze. “You have puppy features… it's cute” she said and I felt my face heat up. 

She seemed to giggle at my reaction before I could recover from that. “You really are cute!” she said and I felt my face heat up, even my tag twitch in “my” coat.

“Hey, Jake?” she said and I hummed waiting for whatever she’d say next. 

“Let’s do something fun!” 

“What do you mean you’ve never done this before!” she said as she held that dog plush she won. “I… haven’t actually ever been to an arcade before” I confessed and she grinned. “Then here! Yours, a physical reminder of this day!” she said as she held out the dog plush and I grabbed it. 

My first… gift. 

“We have to try some more! Ooh, they have figurines–” She was filled with life and I never would’ve expected it. I was jealous but she was contagious and I was actually enjoying myself for once. She was fun to be around… but I couldn’t keep the desires at bay, to tell her the truth and beg her to adopt me. 

To have what Niki had… who knew I'd find the perfect stranger at the worst time?

While I was playing human… stole from someone who had a lot of money and well ran away illegally. 

“A famous person is outside” I suddenly heard… famous? “Jake? What’s wrong?” she asked and I shook my head. “Nothing apparently someone famous is–” “Hide!” she said as she grabbed my wrist and hid us behind the arcade games away from the windows. 

“That’s Choi Hyusuk!” I heard and she looked nervous. “Are you okay?” I asked and she smiled nervously. “Of course!” she said but I couldn’t believe her terrible lie. “Did he do something to you? I can–” “No… he’s a friend I guess' ' she said but it only left me more confused. 

“Hyunsuk, she’s not going to be here” I heard and saw the lion hybrid by the side of someone else. “Fuck… Jake, we have to run” she whispered and I nodded worried for her. “Ready?” she asked and before we could run. “You really wanna run towards paparazzi? Stupid little sister” I heard… sister?

“Hyunsuk!” she suddenly said in a fake cheery tone while turning around to her supposed brother. “It’s great to see–” “How dare you ignore all of my messages?! I called like what!? 100… no 200 times?! I even filled up your voicemail!” he scolded. 

“Still pretending?” I heard and I looked at the hybrid… I needed to leave. 

“You interrupted me… uhmm” she wondered… “Who is this guy? Did he threaten–” he suddenly grabbed my collar. Who was he?! “–you? Do I need to kill him?!” he said and I shook my head silently begging for my life “Let him go! He knows nothing about this…” she said and the guy let me go. “Ah, sorry about that. I’m Hyunsuk!” he said as he held out his hand for me to shake. “Jake,” I said and he nodded and went back to scolding her. 

He was… scary.

“Where’d you even get that…” the lion hybrid muttered. I felt my eyes widen. “That smells familiar,” he said and I chuckled. “y/n, it was an honor everything really but I need to go!” I said and she was going to protest before being scolded by her brother. 

I ran… I soon saw paparazzi suddenly swarm outside taking photos from inside. 

“Hello! Do you miss y/n’s lover?” “Are you the reason she ran away?” “Who are you?”

y/n’s perspective

After getting away from the paparazzi and back to Asahi’s apartment. 

“You lied to me,” he pouted to him. “She asked me to keep it a secret” he defended and my brother glared at me. “Why didn’t you answer?” he asked genuinely worried and I was guilty that I worried him.

“I’m sorry…” I said and he patted my head. “Just tell me the truth,” he begged and nodded. 

“Mom and Dad want me to marry Junghwan…” I said and his eyes widened. “Junghwan?! He would never agree–""His parents agree to it… he’s currently in Japan hiding away” I said and he sighed frustrated. 

“They can’t force you… they couldn’t with me” he said and I smiled. “You’re a boy,” I said and he sighed. “I know… maybe this will convince them. They called worried for you, but they haven’t mentioned at all about canceling any marriage plans. No wonder mom was looking at a wedding dress catalog” he said and I whined frustrated at this. 

“This is unfair! Why am I even in school then learning business for Dad?!” I asked frustrated and he sighed. “They want to have you marry someone competent I guess?” he asked and I sighed. 

“Uhm… y/n who was the guy you were with?” Asahi asked and I was confused as to why that was important. “Yeah! Did you get a boyfriend?! Is that–” ”NO!” I yelled. 

“He’s a runaway hybrid from the Seoul Hybrid Adoption Center they’ve been looking for,” he said and I was confused. He was a human I was… I was sure of it until I saw Asahi show me articles and posts on Twitter comparing Jake to the missing hybrid from Seoul. 

And how apparently I kidnapped him…

taglist -> @ilovecheese09 @gudkc @nikisvanillaccola @blossominghunnie @mheretoreadff @k1ttylvr @starzniiky @kibs-and-bits @b3tt7boop @in-somnias-world @lol6sposts @xiaoderrrr @jihyosgfremade @b-a-nshee-blog @mimisamisasa @katsukis1wife @eggomi @thunderous-wolf @tinyteezer @lilactangerine @starfallia @sousydive

please don't be a silent reader !! reblog, comment, and like <3

[saintsenara]

I really like Snape as a character. I made the mistake of mentioning that online. Someone asked me how I like a character is inexcusably mean to children when he is a position of authority around them and how he is petty, can be cruel and harsh teacher and his lack of patience towards Nerville and basically a list of all the mean/horrible stuff that he has said/done. What do you say when people ask you how you can reconcile liking such a character given all of cruel and hurtful things that he has said and done both towards his students and joined willingly a known blood supremacist terrorist group and said known slur towards his friend that is a member of a minority group? I find Snape to be a deeply compelling and flawed and complex character- that's why I enjoy seeking out Snape centric fics.

thank you very much for the ask, anon, and i'm sorry that people have popped off about you liking snape. it's an extremely tedious way for them to behave, since these people are fictional.

i must be honest, i don't really get asked to justify my fondness for the baddies - partially because i curate my fandom space in order to avoid it and partially because i must give the impression of not caring - but i've never found it particularly difficult to reconcile the fact that all my favourite characters are mass-murderers with the fact that i myself am not one...

the first - and frankly the most important - way that i do this is because i understand what genre conventions are.

it seems to me that this is the thing that really is the most lacking in the discourse surrounding the 'bad' characters in the harry potter series, with snape chief among them, but it’s absolutely crucial to understand:

snape is a mean teacher because harry potter is for children, and children do not want to read about sweet or competent adults.

[this is also the reason why the dursleys are horrible, or why hogwarts is such a dangerous and poorly-run school. if the series contained the line, a troll did not get into the dungeon and so harry did his homework, then any child worth their salt would be hurling the book into a fire.]

it must be remembered that child readers - for whom the text is primarily intended - will have a different response to the tropes and themes of the series than adults returning to it with their own experiences, and that adults' responses to the books are not responses that the books were written to provoke. this doesn't mean that adults' reactions are unreasonable - nor does it mean that adults shouldn't engage with harry potter, as my 300k words on ao3 attests - it simply means that it is not a flaw of the series that snape's behaviour is not addressed in the way that adults would like it to be. it's just genre.

because children tend to see the things in the series which horrify us as adults as considerably less frightening or problematic than we do ourselves. indeed, they often see interactions which we read as abusive, or as evidence of systematic cruelty, as simply unfair, and they are looking for retribution not in terms of legal punishment or wide-ranging institutional change, but in the character who is behaving unfairly getting their comeuppance, often in a comic way.

this is because fairness-unfairness is one of the primary ways in which children understand justice. as adults, we think with more nuance - but that doesn’t mean that our response to the text is better. in fact, we have a responsibility to understand the series’ genre conventions when we approach characters in our own writing - if you want to make snape a violent abuser, you actually need to understand all the ways in which the series shows him not to be those things.

snape’s relationship with his classes is written in a way which provokes the response in children that he is unfair, but not one which provokes the response that he is frightening - indeed, the story generally treats his "cruelty" as comic, at least until half-blood prince, and he often gets an embarrassing comeuppance when he tries to be sincerely malicious. [i.e. literally everything which happens to him in prisoner of azkaban.]

he is unfair, because he doesn’t tell malfoy off for misbehaving. he is unfair, because he doesn’t give hermione a chance to answer questions. he is unfair, because he is rude to harry [who, like any good child hero worth his salt, has no respect for snape and isn’t intimidated by him]. he is unfair, because he gives horrible detentions.

but no child character in the story ever seriously believes his behaviour to go beyond this - including neville.

neville’s fear of snape is caused by snape being unfair towards him - and, since neville is a character the text likes, snape therefore frequently gets his comeuppance for this unfairness. the incident where he threatens to poison trevor is horrible to read as an adult, but as a child the outcome - snape is foiled in his plan because of neville and hermione - is understood as triumphant. snape - an adult - is constantly outfoxed by his pupils - who are not adults - and children love to see that.

[similarly, it really should be emphasised that the text treats neville’s fear of snape as ridiculous. lupin laughs in his face about it in prisoner of azkaban, and neville himself admits that it’s silly and irrational. it cannot be seriously suggested - although i've seen plenty of people try - that snape is his boggart instead of bellatrix because snape sincerely frightens him more. he fears snape more than bellatrix because his narrative purpose in the first four books is to be comic relief - he’s a bit cowardly and a bit useless, and he provides a character for the child reader to feel braver and cleverer than.]

obviously, these incidents read very differently to adults - especially if you are an adult who has, knows, or works with small children. but if somebody complains to you about your favourite characters because they're upset by children’s literature without thinking about how it’s intended to be read by its primary audience... that’s not your problem.

but even beyond genre, i feel comfortable liking "bad" characters because i understand human complexity.

online, it is increasingly becoming a dogma that our attitudes are fixed and unchangeable. i feel incredibly sorry for young people nowadays, who often have to live in a state of hypervigilance in order to make sure that they never do or say anything cruel or ignorant. this must be miserable, because flawlessness is unattainable - not only for real people but for fictional ones as well.

the fannish desire to write someone like snape off as bad and unchangeable - alongside the accompanying tendency to minimise the human flaws of characters such as james and sirius - comes from the fact that snape, like many antagonists, holds up a mirror to us as the reader. and we may not like what we see.

snape’s life demonstrates that it’s very easy to be radicalised into joining a terror group - particularly for people who have experienced things like poverty, being othered, or being bullied. it forces us to recognise that people who end up involved in evil did not come into it fully formed - they started somewhere, and they often ended up where they did because of failures in societies and their institutions which we ignore because they benefit us. after all, hogwarts does nothing to prevent voldemort recruiting death eaters among its pupils, hogwarts does nothing to dismantle the oppressive class system on which the wizarding world runs - the school is the archetypal ivory tower, and the ministry is no better.

snape’s life demonstrates that it's very easy for people who are victims in some areas of their lives to be perpetrators in others. trauma is often not sympathetic and perfect victimhood does not exist. having experienced trauma means you have experienced trauma - it can still make you act like a cunt.

and snape’s life also demonstrates that it’s very easy to - without entirely intending to - do something absolutely terrible, and this is something which we should always be compassionate towards. because it’s going to happen to all of us - and, actually, our terrible deed could easily be something as significant as snape’s report of the prophecy. if you drive, for example, it takes one momentary distraction for you to kill someone. what are you going to do if the person you kill is your childhood best friend, whom you love?

well… you’re going to try to redeem yourself. and, like snape, you will learn that redemption is messy and often strange, and that people can show growth in some areas and lack it in others.

and the redemption point is important - the idea that snape is redeemed by the end of the canon text is something which lots of fans push back against. but it’s crucial to note two things:

the first is that one’s own capacity for forgiveness and the potential of forgiveness as a concept are not the same thing. you might never have been able to forgive snape if you were lily or harry or dumbledore, but that says nothing about whether anyone else can or should. the second is that forgiveness and redemption are not inextricably linked. one can redeem oneself without being forgiven.

my view is that approaching bad characters with nuance is actively beneficial for us, and that having a "problematic fave" is a good thing when it comes to our self-growth in the real world. if we believe ourselves to be immune to the sort of radicalising forces which would lead a person to other their best friend to the extent that they call her a slur, we will be easy to radicalise. if we believe ourselves to be incapable of making a dangerous mistake, we will be more likely to miss the clues that we’re about to. if we do not believe in the possibility of redemption for all, then we are going to have a very hard time when we do something bad, since we therefore have to believe in redemption for none.

thinking critically about oneself - both in relation to the media one enjoys and in general - is a protective act. learning to identify commonalities with bad people protects you. learning to recognise that you’re not always going to be good or right protects you. learning to accept that you’ll fuck up protects you. learning to be remorseful protects you. learning to forgive protects you. learning that the limits of your personal capacity to forgive is not the same as the potential of forgiveness protects you.

unsympathetic literary characters show us how to approach unsympathetic people in real life. snape is a brilliant example of what can be caused by failing to see the whole person - voldemort is evidently the only person who offers him a life-line, where dumbledore and the "good guys" in wizarding society do not. this is a lesson to us all - if we flatten people into good-and-therefore-worthy-of-help and bad-and-therefore-not, it’s a recipe for disaster...

but this is all very pretentious and philosophical. the main reason why i have no qualms about enjoying "bad" characters is because i’m not a cop.

the summary of the last point is - basically - that readers need to learn how to sit with discomfort in media, because discomfort within a fictional context is completely safe, and therefore it provides an outlet for people to think about themes or characters which are darker in a way which cannot cause actual harm.

fiction is not real life and fictional characters cannot harm you - and this is the case even if the fiction is about something which would or did materially harm you if it happened in real life. [this is doubly the case in harry potter because the harms upon which the series focuses are themselves fictional - the series’ blood-supremacy obviously reflects real-world examples of discrimination, but it is not something which any real person has actually experienced.]

this means that a reader’s reaction to something in fiction is always on them. authors have no responsibility to anticipate every single reader’s response to their writing - encountering something that upsets you in a fictional setting is your responsibility to deal with. [even if the author’s not tagged properly.]

snape may upset a reader for various reasons, some of which may be related to experiences of real world discrimination, but his existence cannot cause actual harm to any living person, because he and the society in which he lives are not real.

fictional crimes are not real crimes, and so, if someone tries to say that you shouldn’t enjoy reading about him because they don’t like it… they are a cop and you should have no respect for them. acab applies to the thought police too.

and knowing this gives us a powerful tool… i have no qualms about being criticised for liking bad characters because i just say acab and go on with my day.

just as you can’t cause anyone else material harm in your consumption of fiction, nor can anyone else cause you material harm just by criticising your choices - obviously, if they’re attempting to doxx you, or to cause any real-world repercussions because of your fanfiction tastes, that’s another matter - which means that you have the power to choose to be unbothered by unjustified criticism. it’s not even that hard! simply refuse to be upset!

curate your fandom experience without shame. post what you like. block and move on. filter assiduously. scroll past without engaging. don’t waste your time getting into fights. don’t answer comments which are rude. don’t feed trolls. delete messages. this is just harry potter!

and also be compassionate towards the fact that people don’t express themselves perfectly. if you are primed not to immediately get upset or consider yourself to be under attack, you will be able to read comments with more clarity, to look and see if you can find commonalities, and to answer them in a way which doesn’t escalate the situation.

[and always remember that a lot of the angriest and most righteous comments come from teenagers, and being a teenager is hell. be compassionate, as your fandom elders had compassion for you.]

[inkwolvesandcoffee]

Siúil a Rún (Alfie Solomons x Irish Fem!Reader, Modern AU)

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Romance, Modern AU

Pairing: Alfie Solomons x Irish Fem!Reader

Word count: 5.5K

Warnings: Allusions to past violence & trauma, talk of the IRA, mild swearing

Summary: On a day you're not feeling your best, fighting yet another hard battle with your greatest enemy, your mind, Alfie has a little surprise prepared for you. After all, all he wants is to see you smile.

And make a lasting promise to his Irish queen.

Author's Note: Gods above, it's finally here! At long last I had the energy and time to finish this piece, which is partially inspired by my recent moods. Ah dinnae ken what it is, but don't you worry about my head or how I'll fix it. Instead, enjoy this piece.

TH Masterlist

Tag list: @hecatemoon87 @potter-solomons @zablife @vir-tual @liliac-dreamer @dreamlandcreations @mollybegger-blog @babaohhhriley @hoodeddreams13 @rose-like-the-phoenix

Alfie's POV

I’m no fan of the Irish, who can’t even remember what they had for fucking breakfast. However, right, they can perfectly recall their great-great-however many times- grandfather’s best friend’s cousin’s name and the unjust treatment he got from Oliver Cromwell if not the Black and Tan if they have a particularly clear check in with reality.

Yet here I am.

Engaged to my Irish queen, come all the way from Belfast. Raised in a family that supports the IRA, a bunch of hooligans that’ll do well to be tossed in the lock and left to drown.

But not her.

No.

She cut ties to home the moment she set foot ashore in Liverpool and boarded the train to London. She ain’t English, doesn’t particularly like them. So fancy the shock me ticker got when it turned out she liked me.

Or I her, as she likes to remind me, bringing up the time I asked her to taste the Irish sourdough I made her. She’d just arrived in town, wandered into my bakery looking like a parched twig on a stormy day, and sat by the window with an awfully glum face. Curious about this darling little dove who flew in, I lumbered over to see what had her caught up in her phone and laptop. One look at the screens told the whole story behind the erratic fingers flying over the keyboard or tapping away.

A place to stay, to call home.

In a land that had oppressed hers for centuries, still sees her as an outsider.

In the very capital of the cyclops, king of northern giants.

Now I, yeah, saw an opportunity to earn a little extra cash on the side. Sure, Margate is about two hours outside London by train so I couldn’t charge the full price for the room I had left over.

I didn’t.

For when those dove eyes turned to me, haunted and scared to death, whether it be due to her circumstances or me as a man I still do not know nor want to, I hadn’t the guts to ask her for a single penny.

Only a sliver of trust.

Though my rings, my kingdom, are covered in blood, I fortunately pleased Yahweh enough to have her put her trust in me. It’s a fragile thing, built over various meals, starting with silent breakfasts which gradually have filled with drowsy small talk. Normally I loathe small talk because if someone wants to say something and wants me to understand, they should talk. Nonetheless, Y/N doesn’t have to. Her voice is like an angel’s song, pleasant to wake up with.

And to fall asleep to on the nights the insomnia hits hard again. You get that, living a life of violence. Yet, even gods can’t simply forget.

I can only hide my crimes, spin a pretty yarn for an excuse, and pretend.

Pretend I’m a good man.

For her. 

If only because my midnight baking episodes have reduced since we met. Because I don’t, no, can’t do without those small hands leading me out of the kitchen and back up the stairs to what is now our bedroom. Pathetic, innit, how I also can’t live without those pretty fingers running through my beard until I can breathe normally. Close my eyes without ghosts creeping from the darkest shadows of my mind. To not feel the rage simmering beneath my skin.

For the first time in years, I can sleep again.

And if neither of us can find peace in slumber, we’ll slip into the old habit of having coffee or tea in the living room until the sun rises. No matter if we have an outing planned the next day or not.

It was on an outing like that, to Oxford, after a brief visit to that shithole called Birmingham, she first held my finger.

Two weeks later, when we popped by Hastings, she held my hand.

A month passed before she hugged me, in Cecil Court, during our first book and antiques shop hopping trip. I had bought her a vintage bound copy of one of her favourite books, Gods and Fighting Men by Lady Gregory.

However, it was in Camden, right outside me own bakery, on a bloody rotten autumn day, we first kissed. Cinnamon sugar and pumpkin spice, that’s what she tasted like.

My Irish queen.

Y/N will always claim it’s me who first confessed. Regardless of whether that’s true or not, in my opinion, right, and through genuine testimony, it was her wistful smile and timid ‘thank you’ as I served her a ham sandwich made with the sourdough I learned during one of my visits from a lovely old lady in Donegal and O’Neills ham which makes her the first to confess. Little did I know the brooding sadness around her could get much worse.

Since there are days she gets like this, reluctant to interact with the world. She’ll go out with Cyril, a barely mustered smile on her gentle face. 

It does her good. Our big bugger takes me on walks that are manageable even when my leg’s bad and her on those long enough to let her mind wander and forget about the desire to stay home. Like yesterday, they are again sitting side by side on the shore.

Y/N wrapped in my coat and scarf.

Cyril at her side.

Watching the waves.

Funny, innit, how a man of many words absolutely can’t stand the silence of his own house. Tragic, too, because it means he can’t live with himself. Perhaps that’s why I always bury myself in work, the bakery.

Our bakery.

Look, Y/N was the one who insisted on helping out. I was ready to give her board and room for free, though I was also desperate for help since business had taken a hit. Too cold, manly, rough. In need of a woman’s touch.

It was only when she told me it ain’t right to accept the offer without repaying the debt she never had and called me mister Solomons I took her on.

Mostly because she’d call me Alfie right from the start, wouldn’t see me as her boss or landlord. I never was nor am a fan of formalities, polite behaviour or whatever the fuck you wanna call it. You only get to know a person and their intentions once you place them in an informal environment, lull them into a sense of safety. Or, in her case, a sense of friendship too.

After a few more moments of watching them from the balcony, I head back inside to busy myself in the kitchen. Now, normally, yeah, on my rare day off, I love to bake. Gets the mind off things since you only have to focus on what your hands are doing and you get the ingredients right. Alleviates some of the stress the bakery saddles me up with, but those involved with the business need discipline so I can’t take a break. Would leave it to the dogs. Regardless, Ollie, the bloody bastard I hired as an assistant branch manager, forbade me to come into work. It’s my fucking bakery! Yet, though I’m loath to admit it, I am thankful he did this particular day. Must’ve felt Y/N had been different these past days, always has been good at dealing with people and emotions despite his panicky disposition. Better than me.

At least leaves her with one person to understand her entirely whereas I still grasp at straws at times.

Godhood comes with its complications, but I’ll do my best for Y/N.

For Mrs Solomons.

It’s worth the tightening in my chest, the battle for air while the same concerns keep milling in my noggin like some damned ever-turning grinding stone. I ain’t afraid of anything.

Anything except this mood.

It’s like Yahweh has established the terrifying truth of what she might be like when me health finally wins the battle, granting me a vision of a future in which we’re separated. Or perhaps it is an alternate reality in which I don’t exist or we’ve even never met. This morning, as Y/N stood by the door, her vacant gaze saw right through me as I draped my scarf around her neck. I kept rambling, not nagging, no, rambling on about how she’d catch a cold if she didn’t dress warmly despite knowing she wasn’t paying attention. As I placed a kiss on her forehead she likely didn’t feel, the comforting sense of normalcy shattered, turned into dust along with the little bit of sanity I had established by acting like everything was fine. Thankfully she felt warm in my arms because we might as well have been spectres moving past each other. Then she sauntered out the door, slow and ghostly.

My beautiful Irish queen.

When this mood strikes her, it takes away her voice. She won’t talk, reluctant to participate in any sort of conversation. Although, I think she hopes her quietness proves enough of a hint to not want to be surrounded by any voices at all. Not even mine. Now, any other man, right, any other sod who’s too self-obsessed to understand his girl, would go mad. I, on the other hand, the very image of an understanding and wise man who cares about his girl, his wife, speak less if at all to accommodate her. Instead, in the fleeting moments she’s here, Y/N communicates via small gestures.

A tug on my sleeve when she wants attention.

A brush over my fingers, a silent request for guidance.

We don’t go out in London on days like this. We tried once and while everything went fine, all things considered, the thought something happens in the split second I don’t pay attention breaks my already damaged nerves. Trafalgar Square is tricky enough as is to navigate with the fucking awful traffic, but when she’s barely here and we don’t cross the street in time or our hands let go of each other…

Eyes squeezed shut, I breathe in deeply and exhale slowly to remedy the tightening in my chest. To burn the claws crushing my ribs to ashes and let them take the nauseating vision in my banged up nogging with them. Blown away on the briny wind outside, past the lonely beach.

Left to drown in the sea across the road.

Right in front of her, vanishing beneath the waves. Cyril will make sure she won’t notice, keeps an eye on her when I can’t.

Especially when I’m too caught up in my own head, engulfed by something very, very grim. 

Eyes closed, I breathe in and exhale deeply as I repeat the thought like the verses in the Torah, embedding it further and further into my entire tainted being with each repetition. Only when my breathing has evened out and me ticker beats at regular intervals do I carry on.

I quit drinking after we met. Y/N needed a safe home and with an old drunk brute you ain’t going to find that. So I poured the rum, beer, and wine down the drain the very same evening and a drop hasn’t entered my house since. The day she first put her suitcase across the threshold, I’d been sober for a week.

We’re now a year further.

For all the bloody good he does me by banning me from my own business, Ollie makes for a fine lifestyle coach. I’ll admit that if it hadn’t been for him, his incessant texts and the brave efforts to pluck a glass from my hands, I might have lost her. Fuck, she might have hated me.

Or we might never have even met.

The house now finally knows silence.

No violent words. 

No drunk ravings going nowhere and anywhere.

True, genuine, silence.

I put the kettle on and pull the sourdough from the bread box. Bought it on our last trip abroad, to Amsterdam. It’s one of the things in this house which makes it ours because I used to plonk bread in a zipper bag and toss it on the counter. Not anymore. It goes in the box.

The mixed fruit blend I used for the dough we recently bought at Borough Market. Y/N was staring at it with a tender look on her face.

“Those special, love?” I hugged her from behind, my head on her shoulder. That morning, she had washed her hair and granted me the intense honour of brushing it. A smile grew on her lips in tandem with mine as I worked the brush through her strands. Nonetheless, while I was flattered and delighted beyond imagination, for being thus allowed in her space is a rare gift every man should know how to appreciate properly, she was amused with my attitude. But it’s alright. I don’t mind her laughing at me. 

Eyes closed, I drank in her presence. The sounds of the food stalls and crowd faded into a background hum, each sense overtaken by her frame in my arms and the scent of Argan oil and Shea butter in my nose. In that single moment, I didn’t have to think, to scheme. Just be.

With her, I can just be.

And I like that, makes me love her all the more.

Y/N regularly gives me an earful, but there are times when I truly listen and not only enjoy the sound of her voice. So when she gave me a piece of her story, I immediately snapped out of my reverie. “Nan used a blend of these when making brack.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a type of bread with sultanas and raisins. Officially, that is. But she added currants and other dried fruits when we had it and it wasn’t Samhain.”

“Tell me about the tradition. What does bread ‘ave to do with it?”

“We’d put items in the brack. A pea, a stick, a piece of cloth, a small coin, a ring, and a bean. Each of these items had a special meaning, applicable to the person who got them.”

“Which were?”

Occasionally, right, I enjoy teasing her because I adore the way her frown naturally flows into a bright smile as her distrust melts away. However, the calculating coldness in her stare even gave me the chills. Terrible, it was, and I don’t say that lightly. “Alfie, where’s this coming from? I thought you hated the Irish.”

I thought you hated me.

She didn’t say it, but the words were there, precariously dancing on the tip of her tongue. The shopkeeper gave me a warning look, ready to beat me with her cane if I didn’t watch my mouth.

“It’s your culture, innit, love?’’ I said, quick to placate both women lest we had more than a simple situation on our hands. Moreover, dangerous as it normally is, curiosity genuinely got the better of me. There’s little I know of her previous life so I am overjoyed when my Irish queen, obviously unintentionally, indulges me like this. ‘‘I know the past hurts you, but this clearly means a lot to you. Your Nan’s obviously important to you too.”

“She practically raised me. Didn’t want me involved in politics, give me a normal life. Well, for as far as that’s possible when…” she froze in my embrace, paler than a ghost at midnight in Highgate. Bit by bit, I could feel her fade in the chaos she had kept firmly under lock and key. We’re rather alike in that, keeping the mess in our fucked up noggins hidden until we choose to open up.

Or come across a trigger. 

I scanned the surroundings for hers. Men conversing as they’re hauling boxes. Tourists and locals squeezing together as they navigate the narrow spaces between the stalls, leaving no room to breathe without doing so down someone’s neck. The sizzling of oil on a hot surface.

Like a lit fuse.

“When…” She flinched when one of the other shopkeepers dropped a couple of crates.

I remember how my heart dropped into my stomach as her knees gave way. Her nails dug into my skin as I gently coaxed her to the ground, though she relaxed her grip a bit as a vague inkling of recognition made her realise it was me holding her. “Y/N? Y/N, can you hear me? It’s Alfie, your boyfriend. You’re in London. Safe. There ain’t no guns ‘ere. Just a couple crates. Just crates. That’s all.” 

I glared at the bastard who reduced my queen to a shivering husk of herself, breathing way too fast as the current of grim things swooped her along. Once he noticed I was looking at him, he quickly scurried to the back. After cursing him under my breath, I held her tight against my chest, cradled her lovely head and the funny mind in it as I gently rocked back and forth like me mum used to do when I was a child. “No guns. No bullets. No fighting. Just us, dove.”

For a few moments we sat like that on the cold paving stones. The shopkeeper fetched Y/N a glass of water which she managed to make her drink. Perhaps it’s only because the subconscious ego of my Irish queen saw her Nan in the woman. Do not misunderstand, right, I was grateful for her kindness. Nonetheless, what Y/N needed was space, fresh air. So I picked her up and carried her bridal-style to the central seating area. One day, I hope to carry her the same way across the threshold of our home.

Colour began to return to her face the longer we sat on a bench removed from everyone in a quieter area of the market. With each passing minute, I saw the demons causing those awful vacant eyes and suffocating her with every breath leave her body. The best I could do was wait and do my damn best to not let my own fear and impatience get the better of me. After all, I was not a god at that moment.

Only a man praying for the better. 

A man overjoyed when an angel gave her back her voice.

“My brothers were killed in shootings.” Slowly, Y/N sought my gaze. She blinked a few times like she woke up a second ago and did not really know whether she was still dreaming or awake. “Cillian was shot in March. Seàn the month after. They rather died than be tried by law.”

It was easier to phrase it as such than tell the truth.

They killed themselves.

Died for the ideal that had left her with a broken family. Although, perhaps it’s better to say she never had a family to begin with.

“And the man who I was meant to marry to get our family higher up the ranks, Patrick McHugh, a man I loathed, was ready to shoot me when the Gardaí had us cornered during a car bomb attack. We were meant to go on a date, so he told me, but… we stopped in the street. Alfie, he- he-’’ I put my arm around her shoulders, pulled her against me, and rested my head on hers. She didn’t owe me an explanation for her behaviour, but before I could tell her it was alright to stop, she continued. “He took me hostage. Was ready to burn me alive with him.”

“Y/N, you don’t have to-”

“Rory turned on him. His second in command, the only person he trusted. I pulled Patrick’s gun in the same moment I freed myself from his grip. Shot him in the head. In cold blood.” She bit her lip to fight the ugly sob which made her shoulders heave. “I have blood on my hands, don’t you see? Rory didn’t make it either. Stayed behind after he negotiated safe passage for me. Later I heard he saved me because he loved me. Had been crushing on me for years. Never said a word, Alfie. Never.” The fight with self-control lost, Y/N’s voice cracked with the tears yet unshed. “And now he’s gone. Everyone’s gone.”

‘‘No, not everyone. I’m ‘ere and I ain’t going anywhere. You and I, yeah, we’re gonna build something fucking biblical. A ‘ome, right, in Margate. You and I. And it’s gonna be safe. No violence. I’ll even get rid of me gun if that makes you feel better.”

“No, keep it. Still, thank you.”

I pulled a tissue from my pocket to clean up her mascara, which had stained her cheeks with little black rivulets. “If there’s anything I can do to make you feel safer, you tell me, yeah? If need be, I’ll build a fucking wall that’ll put Daedalus to shame. With me own ‘ands. Anything.”

“Thank you. I think I should repay that kindness with a clean shirt.’’ She sighed as she surveyed the damage done to my clothes. ‘‘Sorry for the stains. I know you got it fresh out of the closet.”

“Nah, it’s just a shirt. No worries. But, knowing you and your bloody adorable stubbornness, you won’t let this go. So, instead of beating yourself up over nothing because you got nothing to be sorry for, yeah, can you tell me more about the bar- barm- the… thing. Bread.”

“Barmbrack. Brack, for short.”

“Barmbrack,” I repeated. “Brack. Gonna try and remember. The items in it. You said they have special meaning.”

“Right. The… pea, a stick, a piece of cloth, a small coin, a ring, and… something else.”

“A bean.”

“Yes, a bean. A future without money. Anyway, so, now, the pea meant the person would not marry that year. The stick meant they would have an unhappy marriage or continually be in disputes. Now, the cloth or rag no one wanted to find because it meant bad luck, though it was also regarded as an omen of poverty. In contrast, and perhaps very bloody obvious, the coin meant good fortune or riches were coming for the person. If you got the ring, you’d be wed within the year.”

Say what you will of the Irish, but they are bloody creative.

We went back to the stall, got a full bag of dried fruit and went on our merry way. Y/N fortunately hasn’t noticed I’ve used some of the contents for a little surprise. For once her adorable drowsy noggin in the morning comes in handy, when she’s too sleepy to notice nor doesn’t check the bag’s contents before she puts a little in her yoghurt.

The kettle goes off. The steam creates a thin layer of condensation on the tiles and warms my face when I pour the water in a mug. There’s nothing like a cup of char regardless of the time of day.

I wager they’ll be home in fifteen minutes. Until they are, I sit on the chaise longue in the living room. It’s a gorgeous thing, a real beauty we found while antique shopping in London. I had my doubts about the red velvet, but Y/N convinced me to get it regardless because “it fits the house’s aesthetic” whatever the fuck that means. It’s a sturdy piece of furniture, definitely worth every penny.

We tested it thoroughly.

Multiple times.

Nipping the gingerbread tea we bought yesterday at M&S, when I barely managed to prevent Y/N from buying three boxes on top of the three boxes of Christmas spice tea already in our basket, I watch my family. A low chuckle tickles in my throat, proud and amused. Who’d ever thought I, Alfie Solomons, the Divine King of Camden, would stop wandering, settle down, become a family man? Tommy, the self-proclaimed head of the Shelby family though they’re all bad people, would have a bubble if he heard that. 

I ain’t like him. I’d marry my wife, the lovely and downright bloody gorgeous goddess currently down on the beach, the one and only true Mrs Solomons, out of love. A love based on loyalty, right, and not out of convenience or business. No whoring when she ain’t about, no secrets, no dirty business.

No more blood on my rings.

We’d raise our children together, perhaps spoil them rotten. Y/N would chastise me for it, I already know, but I want the best for my girls. Maybe two or three, though I’m not opposed to having a son, yeah, but he’d have to be born before my princesses so he can protect them when their good old man can’t. Hopefully, one of them would like to take over the bakery, keep the business in the family. 

I might have to be on my best behaviour, be more of a father rather than a boss if I don’t want to have her tell me over dinner one night “Papa, I’m not taking over. None of us wants to, least of all Seraphina. She’s more one for painting.”

Yes, they’d be artisans in their own right. But if one of my girls wants to paint, no way she’d learn it from Arthur Shelby, who’s head is like a broken vase what is glued together badly. Nah, I wager she’d be clever enough to teach herself. All of them would be talented like their mother.

The sound of the front door opening resonates in the hallway, followed by Cyril’s happy padding, merrily trodding past me on his way to his bed in front of the hearth. We never should’ve gotten him that pillow, has made him lazy.

But how could I tell her no?

Not that she’d have listened anyway. Y/N would’ve used her own card at the till. However, being a proper gentleman, right, and maybe because I wanted to gain extra what they call ‘brownie points’, which is a stupid phrase in and of itself, a show of being too incapable to use one’s speech properly, I paid.

Y/N follows the happy bugger, head hung low and eyes cast towards the ground. Headphones in her ears.

It’s one of those days.

I step in front of her when she makes for the living room. For a moment, she stays still, like a ghost puzzled by why it can’t move forward. Nevertheless, our eyes meet for a second when my hands touch her shoulders.

“No need to wear a coat inside, is there, darling?” I doubt she hears me, my voice drowned out with the rest of the world.

Perhaps, no, no perhaps.

I am sometimes too loud for her as well.

Although she always tries to play it off afterwards, me intestines tie themselves into a pretty tight and suffocating bow tie when it happens. When the world gets to her.

When I, the real me, The Mad Baker of Camden, get to her.

From the corner of my eye, I’ve seen her flinch when disciplining my staff or stiffen when removing rude customers. I especially hate those who bother her, how they make her freeze in their presence and how she’ll avoid my touch afterwards. Breathing is an art in and of it-bloody-self when I watch her from a distance, headphones blasting music as she sits bowed over a cup of coffee which will grow cold.

Yet, when she’s ready for contact again, those earbuds leave her ears. I don’t fucking care what my men say at this point, but I rush over as fast as I can what with my me fucking leg. I can bear that pain, incomparable to what I unwillingly inflict on her or its effect on me.

Her fingers only take my palm, mapped out from a distance, if she sees no violent lines in it. Some days it trembles, those days when her breath is shivery and I feel tears roll down the good, to her trustworthy, lines as she presses them to her cheek.

Although she doesn’t know it, then again my clever little dove likely does, I’m proud of her for trying to go without headphones nowadays. Recently, it’s only one she’ll keep in, in the ear opposite of the side I’m on. Left if I’m on her right, right if I'm on her left. On really good days, those splendid days which make you wonder whether Yahweh wants to give back to humanity, she’ll go without completely. Fortunately, most of the time this doesn’t result in situations like Borough Market.

Nevertheless, today is a day she needs them.

While Y/N moves to the living room, I head to the kitchen to finish setting up the little surprise I prepared for her. By the looks of things, she needs it. It’s hypocritical, innit, that I’m doing this despite hating when it’s done to me? Still, a good man, a proper man, yeah, a proper fucking gentleman, a bloody king, will try his damned best to surprise the woman he loves whenever and however he can.

Because she deserves it.

These acts of love.

If only because words have a tendency to fail.

As mine do.

A lot.

Tray in hand, I make for the living room. Exactly as I envisioned, Y/N has curled up on the sofa, headphones in while she’s doing that funny yarn thing her Nan taught her. She’s good at it, has made me a very nice scarf and beanie for Hanukkah last year. 

Recently, after our little getaway to the Scottish Highlands, where they speak some form of English she fortunately seemed to understand, worse than the Irish except for her, she made a blanket with a deer’s head. Got inspired by our surroundings, she said. I think it’s the show she watched on her phone every night or in the car.

I put the tray on the coffee table and sit down next to her, a little distance between us. “Hard day, dove?”

“Yeah.” She glances from the slices of sweet soda bread to the glass of whiskey and then to me, her fingers expertly holding up the yarn wrapped around them. “That for me?”

I nod, trying to contain the excitement ignited by hearing her voice. One decibel too loud and I’ll lose her again. Gotta play me cards right, so I speak as evenly as I can without showing her the precarious edge I’m balancing on. “‘Cause you look awful homesick.”

“Thank you, mhuirnin.”

For a few moments I watch her nibble on a slice, vacant gaze cast towards the cold hearth. “We can go on a trip to-’’

“No.”

“Y/N, we don’t have to go to the place your people live. We can go to, fuck, I don’t know, the Republic. It’s safe there, innit? Cork? Enjoy the sea. Waterford? Dublin for an urban-’’

“Alfie, I said no.”

“It’ll do you good.”

“I left Ireland for a reason.” Finally she meets my gaze and me ticker almost sinks through the floor once those pretty eyes shimmering with tears meet mine. “The whole fucking island. Don’t make me return.”

“Alright. We’ll go somewhere else.” I open my arms in invitation. Fortunately, it seems she’s in the mood for contact with me. Face buried in my sweater, her small fist clutching some of the fabric, I wrap her up on my arms. “Or nowhere. We can stay ‘ere.”

As an answer I’m given muffled mumbling, worse than me own.

“What was that?”

“Hotel night.”

“Where?”

“Don’t know. London?”

“We already know the town well. What about the Lake District, hm? Nice and quiet. Lots of green. We can rent a cottage or a nice B&B. Cyril would like it too, right, lots of places to explore. Makes for nice walks, yeah.”

As in agreement, Cyril lets out an excited though low bark, sensitive to what she gets like when her mood’s as it is now.

“See?” I say, pulling her a bit closer. “‘E likes the idea.”

In acknowledgement of our shared sentiments, she hums.

“We’ll figure it out later. For now, ‘ave another slice, drink some whiskey, crochet. But lean on me, eh? Lean on Papa Solomons.”

She grabs another piece of bread and starts nibbling on it, occasionally nipping on her glass.

For a while we sit in silence as she crochets and I simply watch her eat, occasionally shutting my eyes to drink in the moment.

Until my plan comes to fruition.

Feigning innocence, I lift an eyebrow when Y/N pulls a difficult face and spits something into her hand.

She once told me that according to Celtic philosophy, all things come in three.

Third slice of bread.

A ring, of course not the one I mean to present to her properly.

Her head snaps up at me, so fast I’m both glad and impressed she hasn’t broken a vertebrae.

“Yeah, this ain’t a joke.” I kiss her forehead. “Within the year.”

On a better day.

[smoll-tangerine]

ten reasons why i hate you: reason #7

SYNOPSIS. while you admittedly didn’t refuse the arranged marriage between you and jung jaehyun, that didn’t mean that you’d allow him to treat you like a doormat. for the emotional distress he had put you through during the months leading up to your engagement party, you ensure that he will pay for the way he had been treating you for the rest of his life. 

PAIRING. rich boy!jaehyun x rich girl!reader GENRES. romance, fluff, angst, drama, rich kid!au CHAPTER WORD COUNT. 2621 

WARNINGS. (spoiler alert!!) someone got cancer, use of the term “bitch.”

DISCLAIMER. this is a work of fiction based on fictional events and characters. it is unrelated to any real people, organisations, locations, and events. the laws, and legal and medical interpretations in this work have also been modified for storytelling purposes.

TAGLIST. @crescent-iak @moonchele @ahtisa02 @ghostfacefricker6969 @jaehyunnie77 @jungish @anya-writes-stuff @hey-won @ishireads @xxxx-23nct @peachibevuti @shepeelsoranges @hopefulchick​ @baehaechannie​ @ya-lame​ @yumilovesavocado (bolded = unable to tag) 

[a/n]: a fair warning, this will be the last fluffy chapter for the rest of the series. enjoy it while you can hehe. super long chapter ahead to make up for my long hiatus!! i also really, really enjoyed writing this chapter. idk if it’s because it’s just little blurbs of moments. pls pls comment!! i love reading your feedback♡ a reminder to send me an ask if you want to be on the taglist~

← REASON #6 || MASTERLIST || REASON #8 → 

REASON #7 

You didn’t understand what compelled you to accept Jaehyun’s ridiculous request in the first place. 

Scratch that. You didn’t really accept Jaehyun’s request. 

At least, not without a condition of your own. 

You could tell from the look of frustration on Doyoung’s face that he also didn’t understand the reasoning behind your decision. 

“Who does he think he is?” he scoffed at Jaehyun’s condition and then gave you a small glare. Though you knew that he wasn’t truly mad at you. He could never. “What were even you thinking?”

You shrugged nonchalantly. “In the end, I won’t lose anything.” 

“Our relationship isn’t something worth considering?” 

You raised a brow at his snarky remark, silently asking him if he truly meant what he said, considering the fact that he was the one who dumped you in the first place. 

“Let’s be honest, Doyoung, do you really think that Jaehyun’s going to be able to actually break things off with her?” you replied. “That’s why I included a condition of my own. I’m only going to cut all ties with you after the five months are up.” 

Doyoung still seemed displeased with the situation. “Do you really think that you can cut all ties with me?” 

You scoffed. “Of course not. Not only our families are friends, we work at the same hospital. I’m not about to drop everything just because of a boy who made me cry.” 

A pregnant silence fell upon you two. 

It didn’t hit you how much your words rang true until you realized how silent Doyoung was being, considering how much he had to say about the situation. 

He let out a bitter laugh. “Yeah. That’s always how you’ve been.” 

You frowned at his statement, but did not refute. 

“You’ve never let anything—anyone—deter you from your goals. That was one of the reasons why I fell in love with you in the first place,” he continued. “But also one of the reasons why we had to break up.” 

“What are you trying to say, exactly?” 

Doyoung shrugged nonchalantly, allowing you to see that he meant no harm nor did he mean to offend you. “Sometimes, I can’t help but think what if you were just more... flexible? Would that have helped salvage our relationship?” 

“Perhaps,” you mused. 

He turned to you with a bitter smile. “Let’s say he meant it. Meant every word he said about breaking things off and needing—what, five months?—to make things right by you. And you can see that he’s truly making efforts to make your marriage work. Would you abandon your plan?” 

You chuckled at his words and tilted your head in curiosity. “Where is this coming from?” 

“My personal feelings aside,” he explained, “you’re still one of my closest friends. I still care about you, regardless of what happened between us. I only wish for your happiness. And I can see how it’s not this marriage with Jaehyun that’s draining you, but also this plan of yours to take him down. To make him regret.” 

Doyoung poked the little space between your brows and gave you his signature bunny smile. You couldn’t help but smile back in response. 

“I’m just saying.” 

“Yeah?” 

“It wouldn’t hurt to be more flexible in this case.” 

FIRST MONTH

“What is this?” 

You were slightly taken aback by the appearance of Jaehyun’s silver McLaren Speedtail parked in front of the hospital you worked at. As much as you disliked him, you couldn’t deny that he had taste in cars. 

Jaehyun smiled at you as he opened the door to the passenger seat for you and motioned you to get in. 

“What are you doing?” 

“I’m picking you up?” 

“Yeah, why exactly are you picking me up?” 

He let out a small huff through his nose. “Why would I not pick up my wife from her workplace after a long day?” 

You almost choked on your own spit as you couldn’t believe the words that came out of Jaehyun’s mouth. 

Did he just call you... his wife? 

You wordlessly entered his vehicle in a slight daze, unsure of what just occurred. You almost had to pinch yourself to make sure that you weren’t dreaming about the current situation you were in. 

It was just some weeks after he made you that promise on your honeymoon, but you didn’t expect him to spend time with you in addition to break things off with Chaeyoung. 

Sure, he said that he was going to try and make your marriage work. But this seemed like a complete 180 of his usual behaviour towards you that it almost gave you whiplash at how nice he could be. 

It reminded you of that time Chaeyoung told you that Jaehyun truly was a nice person, but you simply brought the worst out of him. 

It made you wonder if she was right. 

But the slight giddiness caused by Jaehyun’s actions and your lack of mental energy from work caused you to drop that question completely. 

It wouldn’t hurt to bask in this slight happiness, wouldn’t it? 

MONTH 2 

“Did you start the movie without waiting for me?” Jaehyun shouted in pure disbelief from your kitchen as he was busy making popcorn for the two of you. 

“No?” you shouted back, feigning innocence. 

Movie nights were now almost a weekly occurrence. 

Jaehyun would pick you up from work and you two would head back to your place. It first started with an episode from a series, then a short film, and then a whole movie marathon. You two never really set up a date or anything of the short. It just became something that was... natural. 

It honestly scared you just how natural things felt between you and Jaehyun. 

It was scary to see how well you actually got along with him. 

You didn’t expect to have this much in common with him. Your parents reassured you prior to your engagement that you would love the guy they had set you up with. You didn’t actually expect them to be right to this extent. 

“Scoot over,” he said to you. 

“No,” you refuted and sprawled over your couch, ensuring that he doesn’t have any space for him to sit. 

“I will sit on you!” 

“No, you won’t!” 

You let out a small screech as he actually sat on you. But you could tell that he didn’t put his full weight on you. 

“Get off me! You’re so heavy!” 

“I told you to scoot over!” 

You threw your head back in laughter, slightly wondering in the back of your mind when was the last time you’ve felt this way. 

Whatever it was, you wouldn’t mind continuing feeling this way. 

MONTH 3 

“So, when can we expect a grandchild?” 

Both you and Jaehyun choked on your food and immediately reached for your glass of water.

It was uncanny how you two started mirroring each other’s actions. 

Due to how busy everyone was, both of your families set up mandatory bi-weekly dinners. To get to know each other as in-laws but also in hopes of you and Jaehyun getting closer and less awkward in a stressful environment such as dinner with both families. 

“Your mother-in-law is right,” your mum dabbed a side of her mouth with a napkin. “It’s been almost four months since your honeymoon. Are there going to be any good news in the near future?” 

“How many children are you two planning on having?” 

“It’d be best to have the children at the beginning of your marriage before you two get too old for it.” 

Your tongue poked your inner cheek and you sighed in slight annoyance. That single bottle of red wine will not last you long enough. And you could tell from the look that Jaehyun gave you cheekily that he shared the same thoughts. 

To be honest, you didn’t even know if children were in the plans. 

Your relationship with Jaehyun wasn’t at a stage where you two can discuss this matter freely. Just thinking about it, even by yourself, was embarrassing. 

Hell, your relationship with Jaehyun wasn’t even at a stage where you two can even produce the very children your parents were talking about. 

“To be honest, I think that three children is perfect,” Jaehyun said with a smile. “But I think that also depends on my wife since she’s the one giving birth. What do you think, honey?” 

You coughed at the nickname that he used that came out of his mouth so naturally. As if that was something he always called you by. 

You froze in your seat as all eyes were on you, impatiently waiting for your opinion about the matter. You quickly turned to Jaehyun, eyes wide in panic as you had no idea what to say. 

He gave you a teasing smirk and sipped on his wine, probably enjoying this situation more than he should. But he still made no move to help you out despite your silent plea for help. 

“Yeah, three children sounds good to me?” you squeaked. 

All the elders erupted in laughter at your response and proceeded to discuss your future without the two of you. 

“So, three children, huh?” 

Jaehyun’s voice was ticklish in your ear.

“Guess we should start pretty soon.” 

MONTH 4 

It was a bit crazy to see the evolution of your relationship with Jaehyun. 

True to his words, Jaehyun did really try his best to make this marriage work. Because of that, there was some sort of tension between the two of you whenever you’d spend time together alone. You didn’t know whether it was sexual or platonic, but you dared to say that there was some sort of connection. 

You two often spent time together. If not spending time watching movies together, then it would be grabbing lunch or dinner, or going on small dates whenever you could. It took you two four months before you two finally held hands, but considering how your relationship first started, you’d like to think that it was immense progress. 

You two were now even making plans about moving in together. 

It made sense for the two of you to live together since you two were married. Not to mention there was no way you were going to move back in with your parents. It was actually Jaehyun’s suggestion that the two of you moved in together, surprisingly. You didn’t expect him to make such suggestion, but you guessed that just showed how dedicated he was to his promise to you. 

“Hey, where are you?” you called him as he was almost ten minutes late. “Are you still picking me up?” 

“Hey, yes! Sorry, something happened,” he replied, evidently in distress. “I’m sorry, but I won’t be able to pick you up today. I will send over one of my drivers so–” 

“Is everything alright? You don’t sound too good.” 

“Yes, everything is alright,” he continued. “I’m sorry that I can’t pick you up. I know we said that we were going to go furniture shopping today.” 

“Don’t be. We can always go another time,” you told him. “And don’t worry about the ride. I’ll ask Doyoung to give me a ride home or something.” 

You almost gasped at your words, remembering that Jaehyun didn’t like it whenever you would hang out with Doyoung. You knew that he didn’t mean to be controlling over who you hung out with. But to be fair, Doyoung was your ex-boyfriend and your colleague. 

You thought that Jaehyun would say something, especially since he would always grumble about how you had to meet up with Doyoung at some times. But he didn’t, which admittedly, was more surprising than expected.

“Okay, sounds good. I’ll call you later tonight!” 

If anything, it seemed like Jaehyun was so preoccupied that he didn’t even register who were you going to ask a ride from. 

Jaehyun was never one to reschedule things. He disliked being flaky. If anything, he would always tell you in advance if plans needed to be changed. 

You had a gnawing feeling at the pit of your stomach, eating you away for some odd reason. 

But you pushed it down as you told yourself that it was probably nothing. If it was anything important, Jaehyun would definitely let you know. 

If only you had listened to your guts that night. 

LAST MONTH  

“I’m sorry to ask this of you.” 

You wanted to laugh at the pitiful situation you were in, but you could only stare at Jaehyun and Chaeyoung in disbelief. 

The room was unbearably silent. Jaehyun’s apology echoed in your ears. The ticking sound that the clock in your office made sounded louder than usual. Blood rushed to your ears, the rhythmic thumping of your heartbeat was somehow comforting yet agonizing at the same time. 

“You’re one of the best surgical oncologist in the country,” Jaehyun continued. “I didn’t know who else to ask.” 

Anybody but me, you wanted to say. You could have asked anybody but me. 

“The other doctors we’ve seen so far all recommended that we come and see you. They say you’re the best there is, and if we were to treat a tumour of this size, only you could do it.” 

Shut up. Please shut up. 

You weren’t one to believe in karma. But you also liked to believe that due to everything—the hell—you had been through due to Jaehyun and Chaeyoung, that you wouldn’t be on the receiving end of karma. 

But karma was a bitch. 

And, so was cancer. 

“Please.”

Don’t ask me to treat her.

Please don’t ask me to treat her. 

“Please save Chaeyoung,” Jaehyun begged. “I will do anything. Anything you ask me, if you can just save her.” 

You stole a glance over at the circled number on your calendar, wondering if Jaehyun even knew what day it was. If he was just the slightest aware of what exactly was he asking of you. 

You knew you should have listened to your guts last month. 

You knew that you should have probed him further. 

You should have known the second he started picking you up less often. Started calling you less often. Started spending less time with you often. 

You should have known. 

And you hated yourself for trusting Jaehyun. 

For trusting his word. 

“Today’s the last day of the five-months mark you gave me.” 

Jaehyun’s eyes widened in horror, as if just realizing the dire, sticky situation he was in at the moment. There was the slightest hesitation in his brown orbs, but quickly blinked it away just like a mirage. 

He forgot. 

Of course, he did. 

“I’m sorry.” 

You needed him to stop apologizing. 

You needed him to stop apologizing when– 

“–you don’t even mean it.” 

Jaehyun looked away from your stare, unable to face you. Chaeyoung was the same, her eyes facing her lap, as if humbled by her situation. 

But you took an oath. 

Your professional feelings overtook your personal ones. And for the first time, you hated that part of yourself. That rationality that allowed you to cut off your emotions just like that. 

Because the only thing you wanted to do at the moment was to scream and crawl into your bed, to hide yourself away from the reality that was presented to you. 

“Go see the nurse outside of my office. She’ll set up an appointment for you.” 

Both of them sighed in relief. 

You never hated a sight so much before. 

You never hated yourself so much before. 

“And Jaehyun?” 

His delighted smile momentarily dropped the second he saw the serious expression that you were sporting, all signs of hope and amusement gone. 

“Don’t you dare talk or contact me ever again.” 

← REASON #6 || MASTERLIST || REASON #8 →

[stellar-constellations]

Hi! I just wanted to let you know that I binged your Star Patient series in one go and I love how you write! I was so immersed I actually got so disappointed when I realized I hit the end of the uploaded chapters haha. I'm really loving Reader's character in terms of how she deals with the verrrrry questionable obstacles coming her way, girlie needs a break to just cuddle it out with Andrew or something. Anyway yeah I just wanted to drop by and let you know I'm absolutely eating your writing :D

Thank you so much! It means so much to know people enjoy the personality I chose for reader! I honestly love writing her.

I didn't want a Mary Sue type of reader, or a reader who just seems like a replacement of Ashley (I'm getting real tired of seeing these rip-offs of Ashley, she has her own charm nobody can compete with).

I wanted a reader with her own psychological issues and problems, this series is for Andrew, who is from the psychological game genre! It only made sense having a unique character to go with him! I wanted to match the game's elements and have the reader just like it; battling with her morals and if what she's doing is right, just in a different type of context and setting.

Reader's obstacles and drama in her life is just crazy, but we embrace the crazy. It'll be boring just reading the same thing you've already seen inside of the TCOAAL game, so I wanted to flesh out my own plot and characters. Reader might not be everyone's cup of tea, but she's mine and I love her.

Honestly, I'm still trying to understand Andrew's personality because of how complex it is (I simp for this man so hard, we need more fics of him). Andrew is such a pain in the ass to write sometimes, but I really love him for it, so please bear with me if he seems out of character, because he is! He's my own version of Andrew I wrote for this story, so he's not going to be canon, just like how the timeline and characters aren't canon either.

She really does need to sit back and take a breather with Andrew, but her trust issues refuse to and we'll see why in later chapters~

I've been hinting the introduction of a new character, and chapter 6 will have plenty hints of that, so I'm really excited for their eventual release since it'll really spice up the story and characters. It's a yandere story, after all.

Slight spoiler for chapter 6 down below, if you didn’t already piece this out:

I don't know if anyone has pieced this out yet, but our reader is bipolar (hence part of the psychological aspects of her), and it's something we'll see more of in chapter 6 and onwards. I'm going to do my absolute best to not make her a stereotype of the typical bipolar stereotype (0-100 real fast, sudden mood shifts, etc). I don't want it to feel like anybody is being targeted or portrayed inaccurately, nor to do I want it to feel as the disorder is glamorized/romantized. I want reader to feel like a real person, just like how disorders (especially mental) are real too.

I'm definitely going to have to update my warnings because I'll be honest, the plot is being written as I write along and I don't want to trigger anyone or have unsuspecting readers read something they weren't expecting, so make sure to reread my warnings when chapter 6 is out!

I genuinely didn't believe many people would care much about this series, and I wrote it for fun, but it's such a wonderful surprise seeing people engage in my stories and ideas, you're apart of this journey just as much as I am.

Chapter 6 is currently at 6,000+ words and still has a lot more to go through, so it'll be a long chapter! Thank you my stars, for your support, patience, and giving me motivation!

The Andrew "Andy" Graves complete masterlist

Inbox is currently OPEN for questions about the story and new plotlines/ideas, temporarily closed for requests!

[some-murmurings]

i'm happy that video essays are a popular format on youtube now. i've loved the genre for years and, with care, it's a reliable source of accessible education.

that said, the popularity of video essays on youtube makes me feel like my brain is leaking out of my ears. it is so easy to immediately tell when an author has no actual investment in the genre and sees it merely as a vehicle for #Content™️©️®️

There are three basic qualities I see suffering the most for this

1. Length

I see so many of these newer channels pumping out 8 hour pieces that are closer to exhaustive book reports then they are tight, well written examinations of something and, while I LOVE the diversity inherent to the video essay format, this is a terrible way to explore a topic. It's boring, lame, and extremely profitable.

Quinton Reviews is a good example; I like his work occasionally, his recent thing on Dan Schneider was genuinely pretty good. It did still suffer from the resulting pacing sickness from overloading on information and underloading on composition & organization. Wendigoon is an even better example. Most "iceberg" style vids also are (not u jan misali. never u.)

Also, there's no defined rule for the length of a video essay. They can be 5 minutes long or 5 hours, flash fiction or a full-bodied thesis. Shots of tequila or a whole bottle of wine can both get you drunk.

2. Pacing

Obviously related to length but this is another problem; video essayists have always struggled with this and it got worse recently anyways.

A lot of that "information overload" is to blame. It's important that, when researching, YOU come to a strong, nuanced understanding of a topic through disparate sources. It is, by nature of the format and genre, an extremely bad idea to try and make your audience learn the information the same way.

We don't need a thousand sources spread across several dozen sentences, we want the 3-4 (max) best sources on a given subtopic concisely synthesized into a coherent idea.

Use music, jokes and relevant graphics to make this information as engaging and interpretable as possible without sacrificing accuracy. It's okay to abridge and note that you were, in fact, abridging. We don't need to know every detail about every single thing loosely related to the topic.

Dan Olson from "Folding Ideas" is a good example of this. His script writing and camera work does an extremely good job of creating effective flow with an appropriate amount of detail & nuance. So, pacing, basically.

3. Topic

U can tell some of these jamokes don't give a fuck or shit about the thing they're discussing. Worse still when it's some inane internet drama they're recounting like its "news."

To be clear: the best video essays are OFTEN on topics you have no previous interest in. Roblox_oof.wav by HBomberguy is an easy example. This shit is a complete mess thematically but, because the author engages deeply and effectively with the topic, it literally doesn't matter. It's an insanely good video you should spend all 2 & 1/2 hours in rn. Go. Watch it.

Nor is internet drama a bad topic to cover. You're allowed, encouraged really, to discuss the weird bullshit people do to each other but like... this is closer to a soap opera than it is a national news headline. Looking at you, "Turkey Tom" or whatever the fuck your name is.

There's something to be said, too, for how quick people are to make an essay about a still moving situation. I know the algorithm is an insatiable maw of content hunger but, counterpoint, ONLY MAKE A VIDEO WHEN YOU CAN ACTUALLY DESCRIBE WHAT HAPPENED. If there's reasonable suspicion stuff isn't done, SHUT THE FUCK UP. It's okay if you misjudge a timeline here or there, you're allowed to admit fault and correct yourself, but, like, cmon.

Also something to be said about how quick so many essayists have ALWAYS been to talk about someone else's business without permission, particularly intimate partner violence.

4. Style/Presentation

Video essays are an extremely novel format, particularly for education, so there's a genuine debt of easy-to-adopt styles. And, because of the recent growth, there are a lot of new people entering the space with very little experience in it.

That said, the next time I hear that fucking "influencer cadence" I'm gonna EXPLODE. You know the one, they slow down towards the end of a sentence to lend "gravitas" and overarticulate every. single. word. to, idk, build credibility?

It's shallow and obnoxious and I hate it. Nothing makes me skip a video faster than a boring intro & a predictable cadence. Be honest about the way you speak. If you struggle to create rhythm & flow with your voice, use music! Seriously, music sampling is a super valid method, most indie artists would be JAZZED to have their stuff in parts of their video. A lot of orchestral stuff is in the public domain, especially a lot of famous "classical" works. Put Beethoven's 5th in your video about potato farming in russia, God might not be real and if she is she'd ALSO think it's funny.

Another problem: predictable cuts & generally uninspired editing. I know editing is a pain in the ass but, like, it IS still a creative process. You do have space to do interesting stuff here and, if you can't focus for that long, literally just make a shorter video.

It's okay if 95% of your transitions are purely functional, the trick is to make those 5% REALLY silly to keep your audience on their toes.

5. Tone

You don't need to be "an authority" on a topic to make a good essay about it. It helps but, as long as you're clear & honest about the limits of your understanding and you've done your due diligence, you almost certainly will be fine to talk about anything you want.

If you want to build credibility quickly, consider starting with disambiguation instead of dry recitation. Dates matter less to me than actually understanding a topic better. Even better if you come across like another autistic person infodumping about whales or w/e.

I'd keep going but my phone's gonna die. U get the gist. Lots of format problems that algorithm-brain is exacerbating.

[ravenkinnie]

'what archetypes do these characters fit' >>> 'what is their purpose in the story, what is the function that their motivations and actions are meant to serve' is fr really the best way to approach character discussions in arcane and i wish every part of fandom understood this.

like i remember when i was on arcanetwt (which is months ago. maybe the place changed recently idk) ppl obsess over the characters' morality or just clearly perceive them based on morality and it creates the most reductive takes ive seen of silco jinx vi and all the chars really.

lets see whether or not that changes in s2 lmao

tbh arcane fandom especially on twitter tends to either skew younger or be 30 year olds desperate for those 19 year olds to form personality cults around them. so you have people who either are YA demographic or just aged out or simply never graduated to adult media by choice. and also many people probably have to pop a ritalin to read anything longer than 280 characters cause none of us have an attention span anymore so you have an absolutely asinine environment to have any conversation in

and this isn't me shitting on YA as a genre, this is me saying you expect younger people to have more black and white thinking in how they approach the world, other people, and themselves so YA tends to be much more focused on those dichotomies, on the good vs evil divides and less so on asking open-ended questions

the way people talk about media literacy you would think it's an inborn thing but that's absolutely nor the case, an innate thing is your ability to engage in a narrative and feel a story emotionally but understanding a story is a different skill, it develops over time and experience. language of media is its own language, it's centuries of a cultural code and symbols that you will learn eventually if you engage in varied forms of media but you are going to have some stupid ass takes along the way

arcane has this very fast pacing and snappy voicy dialogue that appeals to that demographic but, while it's not like so complex an average human with an adult brain won't understand it, its somewhat more complex in themes and characterisation than you would expect from that YA/NA skewing story. like that's the fun part about stories and about people, no one is that simple. the worst person you know probably has a wife that would die for them and you just cannot comprehend how the fuck that's possible. so you go and write a book about it, that's how it works

I think season 2 will make people worse because vi will be a cop </3 which yeah league has been cribge about it over the years but by now its also kind of the point of her character </3