#will i ever learn how to use tags for their intended purpose?

[elfwreck]

I have a friend who isn't anti-porn but it makes her sad that fanfic has a reputation for being porny and usually not very good. I'm fine with both those things and my views mostly align with that of AO3. I disagree with the idea that porn and badness are treated as equivalent, but for most people that's just how they think. But I was wondering if youve ever written something about this?

There is a lot of smut at AO3.

There is a lot of bad writing at AO3.

There's a lot of badly written smut at AO3.

...None of those are problems except for the people who think there is something wrong with those existing, or that there needs to be some external value that "balances" those that make those acceptable to exist as unwanted side-effects of "the good stuff."

The badly-written smut is also "the good stuff."

It's part of the reason AO3 exists. It's not intended to be an archive for "the high-quality fanfic that could be published if it weren't about characters that someone else wrote first"; it's an archive for "what fanfic writers want to write." That makes the terrible writing and the tacky porn and the badly-written tacky porn part of the reason the archive exists.

Tangent 1 (I'll connect these points later): Theodore Sturgeon said "90% of everything is crud." He was more-or-less referring to the science fiction field in the 50s, but it definitely extended to politics, business, and writing outside of science fiction.

...He was talking about published books in the 50s. Turns out, a lot more than 90% of writing is crud when there aren't any gatekeepers between it and the readers. But also:

Tangent 2, from the book "Art and Fear":

[A] ceramics teacher announced on opening day that he was dividing the class into two groups. All those on the left side of the studio, he said, would be graded solely on the quantity of work they produced, all those on the right solely on its quality. His procedure was simple: on the final day of class he would bring in his bathroom scales and weigh the work of the “quantity” group: fifty pound of pots rated an “A”, forty pounds a “B”, and so on. Those being graded on “quality”, however, needed to produce only one pot — albeit a perfect one — to get an “A”. Well, came grading time and a curious fact emerged: the works of highest quality were all produced by the group being graded for quantity. It seems that while the “quantity” group was busily churning out piles of work – and learning from their mistakes — the “quality” group had sat theorizing about perfection, and in the end had little more to show for their efforts than grandiose theories and a pile of dead clay.

You don't get to "quality writing" without going through a lot of crappy writing.

That doesn't mean the crappy writing is garbage to be thrown out. If you make 50 pots or bowls or vases, and only one of them is The Good One... most of the rest are okay. Maybe not sale-quality good, but your-kitchen-table quality good. Maybe some aren't that good and are kids-toy-in-the-sandbox level good.

Bad writing has a purpose for the writer: they can use it as practice to get better. It has a purpose for the reader: It can serve as inspiration ("I can do better than that") or grammatical instruction ("that...does not work; why doesn't that work?") or just as entertainment ("eh, so it's missing a few commas; I can still understand it").

Smut and porn writing works the same way. It's of some value to the writer, and some to the readers.

It's not of value to everyone. That's what tags and filters are for, and why there's a summary and list of stats (like word counts)--so you can figure out if you're one of the readers for whom this piece of writing is useful or interesting.

But AO3, like any library, is not there to take the top 5% of Excellent Writing and provide it a showcase. It is absolutely for all 50 lbs of pots.

If your friend wants to read the good stuff, there are rec lists and collections to help her find it.

If she already manages that, and is just annoyed at how much of the not-good stuff (however she defines that) exists... she's picked the wrong battle. She's arguing with the ocean that it has too many kinds of fish and some are poisonous a lot of them are ugly.

[aethon-recs]

Themed Rec List | Tomarrymort Recs with Hemipenes 🍆x2

What is better than one? TWO, of course! I think the monsterfucking potential in Tomarrymort is one of its most unique aspects, at least within HP ships :D If anyone is monsterfucking-curious, this is a great place to start.

I’m so excited to share this delightful smutty nasty dirty and super fun collection of one of my favorite tropes in Tomarrymort: not just snake-like Voldemort, but snake-like Voldemort with snake-like appendages 😏

Standard rec list disclaimers apply: There’s a lot of dead dove in the selection below, so please mind the tags, and read at your own risk. I strive to include a diverse range of fic genres these lists, so you'll come across lighter fare such as crack fics, along with fics that definitely cover darker themes.

*

Tomarrymort Recs Feat. Hemipenes

a dainty lace noose by @mrmxlemons (E, 4k, complete)

Voldemort likes pretty things, and Harry is his favorite, prettiest thing.

a snake, an eagle, and a phoenix by @virgil-anon (E, 9k, complete)

Harry Potter is angrier than ever, thrown into a tournament he wants no part of, without any assistance except for his Defence Instructor. But when the Goblet of Fire turns out to be a portkey, he’s in for a surprise.

and make it double by @captainremwrites (M, 1k, complete)

Well, Harry thinks, that answers that question. He's definitely telling Ron and Hermione about this.

Dragon Me Down, My Love by @wolfantlersinspace (E, 2k, complete)

Harry had been a virgin sacrifice, given by the people to appease Voldemort. However, Voldemort had grown rather fascinated after he discovered Harry chose to come here, to take the place of a friend. And now, Voldemort liked him too much to let him go, liked him far too much to use him for his intended purpose.

Ensnared by @loneamaryllis (E, 4k, complete)

After the Battle of Hogwarts, Harriet finds a white snake in the grass. She quickly befriends the poor, lonely creature.

Hands-On Anatomy Lesson by @ivory--raven (E, 2k, complete)

Harry uses Liquid Luck to ask Voldemort himself how snakey he is.

I will follow you into the dark by @i-dream-of-libraries (E, 6k, complete)

Harry loves a good horror book, and this new one about a monster called Voldemort is now his favorite. Unknowingly, he calls out to the shadowy entity, and gains the monster's full attention and appetite.

Inquiring Minds by @theonceandfuturequeenoftarts (T, 2k, complete)

Harry has a burning need to know, and Voldemort is just so done with teenagers.

Insatiate by @vdoshu (E, 2k, complete)

Voldemort stole both Harry and the Philosopher’s Stone, and doomed Harry to live a half-life. That was ten years ago.

Love at First Sight by @dividawrites (E, 5k, complete)

Voldemort rises from the cauldron with two dicks and some extra powers. Harry is mesmerized.

Monster Fucker by Destiny_Of_A_Dragon (E, 10k, complete)

During their nightly gossiping session, Ginny poses a question about how snake-like Voldemort might be. They fantasize a bit, then go to bed and assume that that was it. A week later and Harry just has to know.

ovoviviparous by @cindle-writes (E, 5k, complete)

In which Voldemort captures Harry at the Final Battle, and immediately puts him to use as an incubator.

splits your skin from end to end, down the center of the earth by @cannibalinc (E, 19k, complete)

Snape has just killed Dumbledore before Harry’s eyes, and he will not rest until he makes the man pay. But Snape isn’t the only Death Eater wanting to gain favor with the Dark Lord. No, there are ambitions far worse than even Snape’s, Harry learns. Ambitions that deliver him directly into Voldemort’s hands. “I was so very nearly tricked, you see, but Lord Voldemort is not so easily fooled. No, I shall not kill you Harry, not yet. I think I should like to keep you instead.”

Phobia by @katsitting (E, 48k, complete)

“I shall show you just how far you’ve fallen,” Voldemort whispered, breaking the thick silence that had settled between them. Harry wanted to laugh, to bare his teeth at the man like the wounded lion that he was. There was nothing for him to do but snark and snarl at the man that had hidden him away from all prying eyes...save for those he trusted most. His legs were useless, his body weak. “I’d like to see you try,” he goaded.

Preparing For A Legacy by @ellionne (E, 5k, complete)

Marriage, especially with magical folks, required to be consummated to have the legal consequences Voldemort demanded for their treaty to come into effect. And Harry had been terrified. Voldemort's thoughtful proposition had seemed like a godsend then. The consummation of a marriage was a purely physical act; Harry didn't need to be aware for it. Didn't need to be awake.

Research and Development by @cannibalinc (E, 6k, complete)

Primary Objective: Establish with certainty that Subject IS or IS NOT a living Horcrux. Secondary Objective: If Subject is a living Horcrux, determine whether the soul fragment can be extracted intact and transferred to a different vessel, allowing Subject to be terminated thereafter.

Roughly 19 Years Later by @dividawrites (E, 2k, complete)

Platform 9¾ is a nice place for reunions.

thrice-bound, twice-filled by @cindle-writes (E, 4k, complete)

Harry wakes up in the middle of the night to the sensation of a blunt, hard cock slowing pushing its way inside him.

The Arsonist's Lullaby by Saeva (E, 101k, WIP)

It’s Harry’s bad luck that his mate is Voldemort. A possessive Voldemort, giving out the most reassuring scent, a scent Harry aches for. No one can blame him for giving into it... just a little... right? Magic Made Him Do It.

War Prize by @duplicitywrites and @moontearpensfic (E, 6k, WIP)

Ten years ago, in the name of world peace, Harry Potter signed his hand away to Lord Voldemort, Dark Lord of the British Isles, Saviour of the Realm. If Harry had known he would spend his days serving as the man's bodyguard and personal stud... He would have asked Dumbledore to include protection against retaliation in the form of sexual objectification.

Venomous by @crowcrowcrowthing (E, 4k, complete)

One would think a famous collector of magical creatures would know better than to set a Naga loose in a room full of people, but Sirius Black was never known for his common sense.

Violent Delights by @katsitting (E, 5k, complete)

Harry was shoved against something hard and unyielding. It scratched along his back, chafing the skin. Harry didn’t so much as flinch, refusing to make a sound when more jeers sounded in the clearing, the words cutting through the rush of blood flooding Harry’s ears— “Fuck him, m’Lord.” “Defile his corpse.”

yer a monster fucker, harry by @exarite (M, 3k, complete)

Voldemort suggests they fake a relationship. It's a reasonable suggestion, so of course Harry says yes. Or: Harrymort Fake Dating AU

you're a parasitic, psycho, filthy creature (finger-bangin' my heart) by @toast-ranger-to-a-stranger (E, 135k, WIP)

Harry keeps thinking about it. The way he smiled, with sharp white teeth. The way that smile had felt pressed to his own, to his throat, to the inside of his thigh. The clutching fingers; the desperate grip. The sweat clinging to his skin, salty on his tongue. The red eyes behind the mask that Harry would recognize anywhere— Harry keeps thinking about it.

*

[saintbarou]

tags: 18+ minors dni / kinda nsfw but i wanna be on the save side / kissing / making out / established relationship / grinding/ mention of cum / mention of spit and drool

javier quickly learns something about you that he finds quite cute for all intents and purposes.

you enjoy kissing.

small ones he presses to your cheek when you come up to him at camp. the ones that linger when you press them to his brow as he lays next to you to sleep. the ones where you laugh in between them by the edges of camp when he has to set his guitar to the side - he had intended to sing for you but finds more music in your flustered giggles than his playing. he knows those are your favorite, when you look at him with big love stricken eyes and smile so tenderly at him.

javier finds that his favorite are these - when he has you away from camp and all to himself. he had found a good fishing spot with plenty vegetation. javier lets himself relax as he reels in fish while you go off foraging for herbs and other plants. he likes seeing you like that, in your element, as you dutifully pluck at plants and write them in your journal. whether you use them for your benefit or for some poor bastards detriment javier is happy to see you happy at least.

he stays by the water until his bag is full and the fish slowly finish their dinner to disperse under the now black water. you are little aways, skirt hiked to your knee to avoid getting anything stuck on it with your journal in hand and pen in your mouth as you keep surveying the small patch of land for anything you might have missed. javier swears you’re eyes are sharper than his, being able to see so clearly in the dim light despite the light of the moon. packing his rod is muscle memory, letting his hands do the labor as he watches you - taking in how the moonlight shines on the highlights of your hair while you pick something else. you write it in your journal with a pleased smile and add what you found to your own bag that is embroidered with orange poppy flowers.

you lift your gaze to where he is and smile warmly at him. you must have honey for eyes the way his teeth hurt from how sweetly you look at him and you make your way over to him. you remind him of your horse, a muscular buckskin kiger stallion that is the most sure-footed horse he’s ever seen the way you jump over the rocks with your heeled boots. you breath a soft hello as you are before him, flustered and doe eyed as he lets his hands find your waist to bring you close.

“what did you find, mi amor?” he asks warmly letting his lips kiss your cheek as your arms go around his shoulders. you hum pleased and murmur into his ear that you found sprouts of swap potatoes and other miscellaneous herbs that are common place but you had run out of over the months. you press a kiss of your own at the corner of his lips and ask about the fish. javier grins big and tilts his head to the filled bag that rests where he stood. you gap and lean your head into his shoulder and laugh.

“i think you might be a better fisherman than mr. matthews.”

“don’t let that old timer hear say that, it’ll sting his pride more than he’d say.” javier laughs and it makes you laugh too, the evening air cool and pleasant between the two of you. your fingertips play with the ends of his tied hair as you hum softly, relaxed with the gentle breeze and the sound of water running.

“so what now - are we heading back?” you say, voice soft just for the two of you. javier smiles and his eyes crinkles like a fox’s when he presses his lips to your ear.

“we could…or…we could have some time together.” he whispers into your ear flirtatiously, the hands that were at your waist go down to cup at the curve of your ass. each take their fill and squeeze enough to make you gasp as he chuckles at how you fluster even now.

“h-here?”

“only if you’d like.” he responds smoothly grinning when you shyly duck your head only to nod at his suggestion. it makes him laugh, the way you duck so demurely against him despite knowing how you have him, when he tells you it always makes you embarrassed. javier nudges your cheek with his nose - "come here, look at me." as sweetly as always you obey and tilt your head up to him. javier is a good kisser - much better than you are so its easy for his tongue to make it's way into your mouth.

his tongue brushes against yours and you moan softly, gripping the back of his vest as he presses closer to you enough so he can feel the way your heart pounds in your chest. it makes him smile into the kiss even has he let's himself get lost in the sucking of your tongue and sound of your quiet moans. you part with him snickering at your flushed state and soft pants - it's sweet how you look at him with pretty eyes and he can't help himself to reach out and pinch your tongue. javier snickers at how you gasp but you let him, relaxing and looking at him with pretty glassy eyes.

"you really let me do anything to you, huh?" you nod, letting out a breathy little noise of agreement and he let's go of you. you'd always let javier does has he pleases, he's the only man in the world that has earned the right to do so. it's why you let him lead you to a thicker tree, and why you follow him to sit on his lap facing him with his back to the trunk. you are spread out on his lap, skirt hiked up enough that javier can see the ends of the garters that keep up the white of your stockings. tan hands settle on the exposed tops of your thighs and carefully sneak up to sink into your plush flesh.

his thumb resting on the birthmark on your right thigh, one that vaguely looks like a heart that he finds so endearing as he spreads you out over his pelvis. you are still clutching his lapels bumping your nose against his as you press kiss after kiss against his lips while his hands come to grip your hips. you kisses grow sloppy when you begin to lick at his lips desperately wanting to have his tongue in your mouth as you begin rock your hips against his lap.

javier pants softly, groaning against your mouth when the warmth of your cunt is felt as you rock against him - feeling how the delicate soft cotton of your delicates grows wet against the forming bulge of his cock. your breaths intermingle as you both feel heat coil in your stomachs are you rock against each other, you clit catching on the rougher fabric of his dark jeans. you tongue brushes against him as javier’s hands dig deep and ground you down against - it makes you moan as lightning dances up your spine at the pleasure. you flush against him, whining at how javier doesn’t let go of your form keeping you where he wants as he feels you grow more and more wet against him.

“javi, javi - please.”

“what is mi amor, que quieres de mi?” he asks you what you want from him and there thousands of words on your tongue that drip like the drool that escapes you as you experience more and more pleasure from how javier moves you against him. you feel his cock twitch, pulsing beneath you and moan - long and deep from your chest. you’re lidded eyes, glistening from pleasure look at him with all the adoration your lax tongue can’t muster. you only go to kiss him, taking him by surprise as you suck on his tongue, letting go of his lapels to instead let one hand come to the base of his ponytail and grip.

he moans into your mouth and comes with a sweet shock, staining his pants beneath you as you whine so softly at the feeling. you are pulled off to one of his thigh and you hump at it on your own as you let your lips go to javier’s neck. you kiss and suck at the skin, moaning as his grip tightens from his aftershocks. rubbing your cheek to his stubble you whisper into his ear as place a candied affection after another on his skin - “don’t waste it next time please.” javier is helpless beneath you, becoming lax and merely a place for you to grind to completion.

“don’t - don’t say those things when you don’t mean it.” he hisses into your hair and you whine defiantly as you cum on his thigh.

“i do - i do mean it -“ you gasp in between the cresting peek of your pleasure, letting your tongue go to lick the salt of his skin. “want all of you in me always.”

“jesus christ,” javier laughs high and sickeningly fond, “you’re a little pervert.”

“just for you.” you mumble, hips aching and face tucked into his neck as you almost melt into his chest. his hands rub at your back, warm and soothing as you come down from your pleasure high.

“can we stay here - just for awhile?” javier hums and agrees, letting you almost go limp in his embrace as your eyes close shut. he stays there, with you in his embrace til the moon is high in the sky and he looks down at you, and stays there a little longer.

[virgo-dream]

virgo-dream’s dreamling masterpost

In honour of @mr-sadman’s Dreaming Week 2024, I have compiled this masterpost of all my fics and fanart!

I highly recommend checking the Dreamling Week tag to see some of the amazing fanworks created by this fandom.

Happy Dreamling Week! ☁️✨

☁️ fanfiction ☁️

✨ one shots ✨

golden hour

rated G / 695 words / fluff

Hob had two favourite times during the day: dawn and dusk. Opposite in their purpose but equal in their beauty, dawn brought new life to restful spirits every morning, while dusk tucked them in gently every night. Hob loved the soft, lilac tones that shifted into golden, that faded into oranges, purples and deep blues, over and over again, marking the passage of never ending time.

Another thing he liked, dearly, was seeing Morpheus under the light of the golden hour.

metaphors

rated G / 2.5k words / idiots to lovers

the one where Dream is fucking dense and Hob is desperately in love.

the night of the storm

rated G / 2.6k+ words / hurt/comfort

across from the shadow figure sitting on his armchair, and offered the best smile he could muster. “…rough day? I feel like you’re not doing very well. Don’t ask me why.”

Are you not afraid, Hob Gadling?

or: Hob Gadling comes home to find the shadows need a shoulder to cry on.

freely given

rated G / 4k+ words / whump, hurt + comfort

Dream had no idea how he intended to help Hob. It was the right thing to do. He had stumbled into enough of Hob Gadling's nightmares to know for a fact that disease wasn't something he took lightly.

daisy chains

rated G / 589 words / tooth-rotting fluff, idiots in love

Hob tells him to use the door but doesn't mind when his friend just shows up uninvited because to Hob, Dream will always be welcome. Dream, on the other end, wants to know more about Hob, be a part of his life, even if it means spending more time in the Waking World. And then, like every good thing, the physicality starts small: a pat on the back, a hand on the shoulder.

or: they don't know it, but they're falling in love.

spring roll for your thoughts

rated G / 2.3k+ words / domestic fluff

Dream and Hob both need a moment to rest after a long day at work. They both find comfort eating reheated leftovers and daydreaming about the future.

the miracle of song

rated G / 1k+ words / christmas fic

Dream of The Endless has a long standing history with avoiding music since the loss of his only son, Orpheus. His relationship with Hob Gadling might make him change his mind.

A story about love, loss, bad karaoke and Christmas miracles.

one of their own

rated G / 3.6k+ words / queer themes, first kiss

Hob Gadling invites Dream to a meeting of the uni's queer clubs at the New Inn. Dream learns more about his own gender identity, and that he's very much in love with his best friend.

glitter glue and butterfly stickers

rated G / 1k+ words / dreamling parents, tooth-rotting fluff

Hob and Dream have been married for over 10 years and are raising a daughter together. After a long day working on his thesis, Hob receives a letter from his 7 year old daughter Lucy, detailing her thoughts on an article he’d written.

safety net: a bolt in the blue story

rated T / 3.1k words / fic of a fic, mutual pining (set in the universe of @valeriianz’s bolt in the blue)

Endless is in the middle of its first headline tour, and Dream has been doing his best to hold his own in the ever changing routine of touring. After one particularly intense concert, Dream finds himself extremely overwhelmed, and relies on the help of his trusted bass tech, Hob Gadling, to ground himself again. In the process, he finds that a few feelings have become impossible to ignore.

some mornings: a man of good fortune story

rated G / 1.1k+ words / domestic fluff, omegaverse (set in the universe of @softest-punk’s a man of good fortune)

Some mornings are easier than others, when one finds themselves in the state Dream is currently in. He remembers how mornings were when he was pregnant with Orpheus. As winter slowly approached their home by the sea, some mornings became harder than most for Hob.

A story of finding new purpose, switching roles and falling in love again and again. The moon is also there.

✨ multi-chapter ✨

when I wake up, there are only your eyes to greet mine (complete)

rated M / 14.2k+ words / victorian soldiers au

Five times Sergeant Robert Gadling woke up to Captain Morpheus Apeiron. One time Morpheus woke up to Hob.

A very unlucky battalion finds itself in the command of one Captain Morpheus Apeiron. He doesn't seem particularly worried with their survival, but mostly with ending the war as soon as possible. Sergeant Robert Gadling seems to be the only thing keeping all these young and inexperienced soldiers alive. After one particularly heated fight between them, Hob ends up discovering there is much more to his Captain than meets the eye, but is he seeing Morpheus as he truly is, or through the prism of his own desire?

may dream (incomplete)

rated M / 7.5k+ words posted / hurt/comfort

It's been 10 days since Dream of The Endless was rescued from Fawney Rig by one Hob Gadling, who takes it upon himself to see to Dream's recovery. While with Hob, Dream is provided with something he'd been missing even before his imprisonment: to be cared for.

☁️ fan art ☁️

he’s wearing the north face jacket

change or die magical girl

happy birthday dream sketch

thursday night at the drag bar

Halley’s Comet mini comic

come here often?

softest-punk’s witcher au fanart

avelera’s giving sanctuary fic cover

[yellowhollyhock]

you’ve mentioned your sainw au before and im so curious about it. is there some stuff u can share about it ?

yayay thank you for asking!!

it's changed a lot and changing still but here's some background for where it sits now

this is kinda heavy, y'all lmk if you need stuff tagged

I'm not quite sure where to start ahdhs. So SAINW. There are gonna be a few differences from 03 main timeline but one big thing is that the whole plot starts a couple years earlier, Shredder gains power faster. Same as in canon the turtles will think they've defeated him and then he pops back up, but unlike canon they don't get the help from the Utrom and learn about what he is

Donny disappears when they're 16

Within two years the Shredder has shut down New York City, cutting it off from the rest of the world and starting to capture people (both by taking over corporations and just kidnapping) to use them to mine for materials for him to build his own transporter and go after the Utrom

Within ten years, Bishop has created a stable mutagen in an attempt to make his own super army to defeat Shredder, however it is harder to control than he intended and Shredder takes over the operation and instead uses the mutants to subdue the humans. He'd already built up a regime in the states surrounding New York and in Japan; now because of Bishop's mutant army he is quickly able to gain power all over the world. He controls the mutants by making them fear the humans and vice versa.

The turtles are known by the general public, Shredder presents them as stray mutants he lost control of, he's pushing the narrative that mutants want to destroy humanity and it's his control that holds them back to only take out their anger on those who defy him. Even within the rebels people are generally wary of mutants, makes things hard for the boys

Anyway, around the fifteen year mark they lose Splinter. In one last grief-fueled desperate maneuver they go after the Shredder in his own headquarters. They lose Casey. They find out what only Bishop had known previously: Shredder is an alien.

One loss after another is too much for Raph, meanwhile Leo is handling it by shutting down, the two of them fight and leave Mikey stranded in the middle.

Thirty years later it's the episode as we know it. Ch'rell's true identity is common knowledge; the world is his, no reason to hide. Donny shows up, but he's the same age as when he left--maybe even a bit younger? He gathers his brothers and defeats the Shredder. And then he disappears again. April is alone.

She and Angel are the only ones who really know the turtles' story (I decided Leatherhead didn't make it oops). Now they've got a devastated world to rebuild, especially in their own city which used to be filled and is now sparsely populated by malnourished mine workers who haven't seen much of the sun since Shredder took over decades ago.

They tell their story, make the turtles known as heroes. Their voices mean something because they're also doing so much to rebuild, connect people to each other again and make the infrastructure work, provide food and water etc.

This is when they meet Lotus Blossom, who comes to New York looking for her friend Leonardo. She's been exchanging letters with him for years. They met in Japan; his family didn't even know he went to Japan.

She's just looking for someone to connect with. She's in a world now where so many have lost everyone and feel alone, but that's how she's always felt, and somehow others finally understanding feels more alienating than ever.

She finds April and Angel, because she recognizes Leonardo in the story of the mutant turtles who saved the world. She's prone to becoming possessed which is going to,, cause some things,, in a world so full of ghosts. Anyway she finds something like purpose and belonging in helping them put the world back together

And because I'm insane I also decided just recently that Venus, who lost her father fighting the Shredder, hears about mutant turtles very like herself who finally defeated him, goes to New York

So now you have the crew together! April, savvy political leader and scientist, keeper of the stories being the one who best knew the turtles; Angel, spite-fueled disabled war hero with years of abandonment issues built up from her parents, her friends, eventually everyone except April; Lotus Blossom, ex-mercenary accidentally turned spiritual leader for all these lost and lonely people, feeling wholly under-qualified to offer any sort of comfort but has to try because without this she's just adrift; Venus, grieving the only family she ever knew and finding herself struggling with magic she had previously mastered as she tries to direct it to helping these people, always eager to learn more about the turtles

And then one day they run into this turtle-shaped stranger trying to fix the irrigation system they've set up because, oh I mean no disrespect this is very well done, but you see it's got these issues and I can fix it in this way--

It's Donny. Donny's shown back up in New York. He's the correct age now and is very shocked to hear stories of himself showing back up to defeat the Shredder. "Of course as soon as I heard the borders were open I set out for New York.. I heard stories about the turtle heroes, I didn't hold out much hope my brothers had survived.. I'm amazed and grateful to find you, April."

And that's where the plot kicks off, which will involve a whole lot of grieving both healthy and otherwise, inter-dimensional shenanigans, accidental acquisition of incredible power and having to work alongside Bishop!

[cherry-froggie]

the masked warrior — chapter 4

pairing — childe x f!reader

summary — Having to live by draining other people’s blood to pay your debt was already a burden to your heart, but you let your mask fall in front of the ones that were hungry to know your identity and take advantage of it. Even worse, it was one of the most distinguished Fatui Harbingers, the Snezhnayan organization you owed and killed to pay the debt. With him appearing on your balcony to offer a big deal, your world shifted radically.

tags — slow burn

notes — there are already 12 chapters released on ao3 in case you want to read more!!

LAST CHAPTER || MASTERLIST || REQUESTS

Chapter 4 — Come Back To Shore

Your battlefield was illuminated by nature's spotlight when your surroundings faded to black. A doubtful mind told you this period wouldn't last long. Moreover, sleep was not affecting you. Tiring yourself before returning to a land of nightmares and disturbances didn't feel inadequate. You took your weapon and rested it on the ground without worries.

"I got lost while reflecting on several things." To Childe, your response was tolerable. He had also lost track of time after accepting another task at the bank. He took hold of the steady weapon and threw it somewhere else. Where it had landed was not clear. It should have been near a big rock from the metal sound that resonated after the crash. That sudden action confused you. You didn't come so far to play fetch with such a childish enemy.

"Old toys grow tiring after a certain point. As good as it is to have your enemies fear a blade bathed in the victorious blood that represents your power, you should learn to use something better." Having nothing else to fight with wasn't a good sign. The test hadn't even started, but frustration was crawling onto you. Even if it was old, the weapon was a gift from your father when he discovered your passion for the protection of others. It meant much more than fear from those who could never surpass the fright and step forward to defend their ideals. Ready for confronting, you opened your mouth to have it shut again by his words. He took out a bow and rested it on the ground. He left it far from the likely area of the battleground, by what appeared to be your father's weapon. "You and I can have our life saviors back after this. I'm convinced it won't take long." This beginning was everything but what you expected. For the sake of your mood, you let it slip and accepted the terms. It's not like you didn't learn some things when you lost your defense. Most of it was about how to retrieve it, but you could manage it. If you could get to his spot, you could take it into your own hands. Tartaglia wasn't going to be the determining factor between your safety and more bruises.

The distance was shortened after he took a few steps in your direction. He was about to make a move, yet the gap left was enough to assure your security to make a move after his. "Keep in mind this is for testing purposes only. I won't kill you, but that doesn't mean I'll go easy on your either." You expected those words, assuming them from the beginning without him ever saying anything. Your heart skipped a beat when he dashed in your direction. Memories of the first time you encountered him flashed in front of you. The last time you jumped back, chaos descended to your world and fought for its control. You dodged to the right. Your head turned to where you were last standing to examine the scene in search of possible progress. Something blue swung in your direction. Could Childe be using his vision? Ah, how unfair. That changed a lot of your strategy. Your body lowered to the ground as your legs extended, ready to go around his ankles and make him fall. Your intentions didn't go unnoticed by him, and the proof was his jump to the back. You could tell he didn't plan his landing as well as he intended. One of his feet made a strong sound against the ground. He reached balance as soon as his body rose again. The laugh he let out revealed his amusement with the fight.

"Not bad, not bad. Most of the Fatui newcomers I know would have fallen already." Was it a compliment? In that case, it sounded like most of the soldiers the Cryo Archon possessed were not trained appropriately. Either that or they just let them pass with the minimum requirements. He jumped in your direction, sure to land on top of you. Taking a few steps back didn't guarantee your escape from his attack, but granted the hold of your weapon once more. Your body rolled on the grass to the opposite side where he was about to land. His attempts to cut you with his pure water blades failed on account of your blockage. You needed distance to plan your attacks, but the man didn't let that happen, continuously striving to get you down or cut you open. Your muscles became sore from the constant blocking. You jumped back to gain some distance. The strength he was using to take you down with his blades almost led to his fall when you moved away. His expression didn't look so pleased anymore. Both of you were getting tired of this fight.

"All you do is run. I've seen you do better."

That's what he wanted, that's what you would give him. You'd do anything to get out of that dull mess. Hardly sensing your feet, you approached him with a quick run and landed a perfect short that could have sliced his head open if not for his blade forcing his intensity against yours. The sudden collision of those forces influenced your collapse and forced your back against the mountain. The fall was inevitable, but it was nothing dangerous. You established your sword into the ground to help you rise. However, Childe had already reached your spot and made you stay down. "I'm impressed with what you can do without owning a Vision." He leaned down to have a better look at you. That's just what you had been waiting for, the grand opening. You recovered your breath during his monologue. One final blow to end the day and go back home to your glaze lilies. Your clenched fist reached his stomach and forced him to retreat a step. Finally, your leg touched the high up skies and kicked Childe to the ground. By getting a good grip on your weapon again, you let it fall and pierce the grass by the side of his head. He lied down with his spine facing the terrain, looking up to your kneeled figure on top of his. Both of you were panting from the amount of energy it took to reach that point. Having him down at your mercy was a new feeling for you. You could end this torture if you wanted to and start a revolution by killing the eleventh harbinger. How long would it take for someone to find him in that place? Days, maybe weeks. This feeling of power and choice released adrenaline into your veins and excitement to your spirit. Someone's life was in your hands, your enemy's life. You grinned helplessly as your eyes widened with satisfaction. Right as you were about to crush him with your father's divine weapon, he switched your positions and made sure to pin your hands to the ground with his. A gasp escaped from you right away. You left dreamland to come back to being in a lower position than the one you remembered. The gap between you was short - too short to your liking - but you didn't have the energy to kick him up, so you decided to turn your head somewhere else. He showed you a surprised look that turned into a smile. He was nervous. It was visible from the corner of your eye that his smile wasn't hiding anything from you.

"It appears you've never had that much fun with someone of a higher league. All this enthusiasm made it look like you were about to kill me. I have to say I'm quite impressed. Rest assured, you will be in a high position during your stay with us. You'll be free in the battlegrounds around Liyue."

Destiny was not your friend, after all. Its relationship with time and desire teased the idea of a better future and shredded it apart in seconds. That would have been the perfect opportunity to give an end to a chapter of suffering and commence a historical moment of ecstasy and reconstruction of your homeland.

You were looking up, and your eyes landed on him, yet passed through. You got so immersive in your dreams you were half awake, seeking something that wasn't meant for you - a happy ending. For how long would you keep denying it? It would be careless to accept what life offered you, as careless as your actions after letting the mask slip away from your face. Was Childe still talking? You didn't know, you couldn't hear, nor you did want to hear.

"Is it over?"

You felt like you had just cut his speech. No matter, you wanted to clean your head. It took him a minute before resuming to speak to you.

"What's the rush? We were having so much fun together." He got up, allowing a feeling of freedom to reach your lungs. He wasn't that heavy. Was it the distance that cut your airflow so significantly? You sat up. Tartaglia offered you his hand to help you get on your feet. You exited and decided to refuse it, getting up on your own. The weapon left on the ground caught your eyes and demonstrated its flaws - it was ready to exit the scene of hostilities and rest by your side. Childe was right about the needed upgrade. Getting a new weapon would be another headache to take care of.

"Don't look so down, this won't be the last time we rise blades against one another. The outcome is irrelevant as long as you learn something with the experience, and you still have a lot to learn from me." How exciting for him. He seemed to enjoy a duel with someone playing heroes and thieves. You should've just held back your horses and get a job at the Northland Bank's desk. It's always about what you could have done instead of what you can do to repair things.

You turned your back to leave, barely noticing the hand that tapped your back. The moment you were about to complain, Childe shoved your mask into your face, letting it fall to your hands. You were shocked but glad the wooden cover had reunited with its warrior again. He giggled at the sight of your look. Losing the masquerade was not something you wished to repeat.

"Here, you can have this back."

With a few pats on your shoulder, he left to follow his path. You felt so optimistic about holding your dear mask once again. The heartbeats were racing along with your tears, something about it felt so special, so personal.

When the night comes and the sun goes black to let the bright moon glow, Liyue Harbor is scarier. Regardless, the little lovely things you can find in this soulless harbor at night make the horrors go away. The sound of the calm waves and the unique smell of the shore brought back memories.

Months before, during the last moments of your mother's life at night, you had fallen unconscious with your head on her lap. Noises of people walking around your house had woken and startled you. There was nothing in the room - the problem being the absence of your mother. You searched every room to look for her, she didn't get up from her bed for weeks, she couldn't just miraculously find a cure for her problems. After reaching the corridor, you noticed the front door was open. Your first instinct was to get down from your apartment to the paths of the harbor and find your mother. On top of the stairs, you could notice her on the docks near the merchants' boats. By her side was a woman in black. The thought of losing the last person that you could call family caused yelling and tears, your feet moved on their own to stop the woman from whatever she planned to do with your dear familiar. You could still try to find a remedy for this never-ending pain. You would walk to any nation and climb to the peak of Dragonspine if it meant the preservation of what you held dear. But it was over before you realized it. Pale lights rose to the sky and formed a new star by the side of the midnight sun. You never saw the lady in black ever again and never woke up from the nightmare you witnessed. After many days of waiting near the docks to retrieve what was yours, you accepted the fact that your mother wasn't coming back. No matter how much you begged the Archons or broke down in front of yourself in the mirror, never did she ever come back to shore. If she ever did, you made sure her favorite glaze lilies were visible from the balcony. That way, she knew where to find you and fix your shattered heart back together again.

LAST CHAPTER || MASTERLIST || REQUESTS

ANOTHER ONE.

proofread? not in my house, no sir

i'm just too tired to do it, and i really need to study, yknow

i hope whoever reads this still enjoys it, because this is probably only fitting for a very specific audience

[rabbit-exe]

15 Questions 15 Mutuals

tagged by the generally very cool and good @argyleheir for purposes of question-answering; here we go baybeeeee

1. Are you named after anyone? technically! it's not actually anyone I knew well, but my first instance of hearing what would become my name (rowan) was some random boy that lived in my neighbourhood. so, changeling-like, I stole it from him without remorse.

2. When was the last time you cried? I don't remember, I don't really keep track - more than a week ago, I guess, because I don't remember doing it recently.

3. Do you have kids? no, and I do not ever intend to! I don't dislike children with any great degree of vitriol, it's just not a responsibility I'm keen to take on.

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot? a fair bit, but only in a playful, bastardly manner.

5. What sports do you play/have played? I used to do horse-riding, before my entire body decided to really lean into the chronic illness.

6. What's the first thing you notice about people? I don't. as soon as I encounter a person my brain retains no information about them at all because I'm trying to figure out how to interact with them successfully and not say something weird, which is a problem, because I have an internal clock that counts down whenever I'm in a social situation and when it hits zero I inevitably say something weird.

7. What's your eye color? grey-blue

8. Scary movies or happy endings? Scary, baybee! I'm a big wimp, but I love horror as a genre, even if I can't really watch a lot of the films because I have such an incredible startle response that it makes jumpscares intolerable.

9. Any special talents? I'm decent at writing and drawing, and I used to be able to balance up to twelve spoons on my face simultaneously until I got older and the shape of my face changed, which is a shame because it was my one party trick outside of listing facts nobody wants to hear about parasitoid wasps. I also apparently have a very good ear for music.

10. Where were you born? scotland, in a hospital that no longer exists.

11. What are your hobbies? writing, drawing, ttrpgs, reading, makin' little guys to write and draw about, amateur taxidermy, playing music (piano and ukulele) and singing (autism bonus round: learning about parasitology, corvids, vultures, mortuary science and the funeral industry, medical history and hilarious history in general, interesting diseases, animal facts)

12. Do you have pets? yes; a tiny little cat called Sigyn (full of violence), a much older and larger cat called Varjak (full of soft big man), and my mother owns a horse named TJ (full of hay).

13. How tall are you? 5'8"-ish

14. Favorite subject in school? english and biology

15. Dream job? I do not dream of work, brother (as a child I wanted to be a doctor, but now I'm aiming for mortician - I say aiming, because my body and brain are in a state of hilarious disarray what with all the various ailments and I'm borderline confined to my bedroom)

tagging people (with no expectation that they should do this, just a little suggestion, like poking a frog away from a road): @onearthbrieflygorgeous @theleastgothgoth @crisis-response-specialist @ziracona @star-rott and anyone else that follows me that wants to give it a go, feel free to tag me in your own responses

[fandomfluffandfuck]

the way you’re so onboard with alba just shows that you’re most likely a white person who doesn’t care about nazism and racism. y’know, cuz those things don’t affect you, right?

btw your “angel” posted her own nudes on ig for everyone, including chris’ underage nieces, to see. glad to know that’s who you’re supporting.

check your privilege please

related to this

Normally, I don't engage in stuff like this for a variety of reasons... anon critique and/or hate tends to be motivated purely to solicit a reaction, yet there's only a small chance the person that sent this will actually ever see (or read, for that matter) my response, I'm not a gossip blog, nor am I the place people come for hard-hitting discussions on issues like racism, antisemitism, homophobia/transphobia, sexism, misogyny, ableism, or any of the other awful human-made categories of hate that plague us. I'm a fantasy blog--hence the fact that I do fictional as well as real person ships. But, I do occasionally post stuff about the real lives of the people that I include in this fantasy blog--that's what the tag "real life real people" is. It's for others to filter if they want. That's why I tag those kinds of posts in such a way. (Alba is also always tagged, filter that way, too, if you like). I occasionally post that kind of stuff because sometimes, it's fun to post about the real lives of these people I have a parasocial relationship to. And its fun to have somewhere for people to express their excitement of/for those people. Personally, I'm much more partial to allowing excitement than negativity. It's my space, I do curate it extensively.

That being said, yes, I'm white. I'm a man, and I'm mostly straight-passing unless I deliberately out myself to others. I have a lot of privileges. I won't and don't deny that.

Nor will I deny that I haven't done really any research on Alba--the tags for her and Chris these days are nearly always full of hate or extensive theories when I check them, so... I avoid them. It's my peragotive to mostly stay out of the tags, though. I know that. I don't know Alba. For that fact, I don't know Chris. All I have to go off of is appearances. I do hope they're happy. They're just people. I also hope she's not still saying the awful, harmful things she has in the past--leaning to your side, and assuming that there are receipts. I hope she's listening and learning.

As far as posting her nudes to her Instagram--she's a grown woman. It's her body, her account, and the internet has always had places that are unsafe for children. She doesn't control who follows her, and she's famous. Many people follow her. I don't assume she wanted children to stumble across those photos. And if they did, that truly sucks. Children being unwantedly exposed to sexual content is not to be taken lightly. I can see how damaging that might be (God knows I've had a shit ton of experiences like that myself, from my younger years with even less protections on social media) even while holding the overarching opinion that bodies are bodies and nudity shouldn't be so sexualized as it is in our puritanical society. Although, yes, of course, nude photos intended to be sexually charged are much different to bodies being bodies.

While I'm very unsure that you will see this, let alone read it, I will conclude this post saying that this is as much as I want to post about this: I understand the underlying frustration you have, and I hear you. I do. I could--I can do much more to be a better ally as a white man to dismantling racist systems and holding racist people accountable. I am always trying, truly. However, for the purpose of this blog, I don't want to engage further.

Thank you.

[vincess-princess]

the wild, the wayward and the wicked

Chapter 3

Word count: 2720 Warnings: there is a mention of a potentially triggering subject, but I don't want to reveal it beforehand. i will put the warning in the tags so you can look there if you wish.

“So you want the hunted to become the hunters?” Mick tilted his head. “That’d be one hell of a plot twist.”

“I’ve been saying!” Tommy beamed. “They’d expect a robbery or a theft from us but definitely not this!”

“You ain’t the first to hit upon this idea,” Mick tempered his enthusiasm. “Law-abiding citizens don’t usually possess the experience of hunting down people, y’know. It’s that the price on our heads is much higher than that for this fellow, yet it’s us who intend to bring him to justice. The irony!” he chuckled and took a drag from his cigar. A thin layer of smoke drifted in spirals below the ceiling.

“Are you saying it’s a bad idea?” Tommy’s face fell, to Nikki’s delight. The kid hadn’t yet learned to discern Mick’s attitude from his impenetrable expressions. To be fair, it took Nikki much longer and through a great deal of trial and error, but it didn’t mean he was going to make it any easier for the kid.

Mick gave him a long, tired look.

“I’m saying it’s a horrible idea. Do you understand how much danger we’d put ourselves in? We are practically handing the law a four-in-one package on our own volition. No self-respecting outlaw with a lick of common sense would ever do this.”

Tommy looked like Mick just killed his puppy in front of him. Nikki would even feel sorry for him if he didn’t know Mick well enough.  

“You’re right – nobody will believe we’re that crazy,” Mick continued. “Which is why that’s exactly what we are gonna do. Cops will be looking for us among the criminals, not those who turn them in. And the best place to hide is in plain sight.”

Tommy beamed, his eyes lighting up. He sat upright proudly and shot Nikki a triumphant look. Nikki replied with a condescending grin. He knew precisely what Mick would say, but wanted to keep the kid on his toes.

The vodka kicked in and coated everything in gentle haze that diluted the blinding contrasts of life into fluid, smooth color shifts. The sharp edges of his mind that pierced him on the inside softened, and the mood swings evened out. The messy, fragmented thought process was a downside, but not critical.

“They might not look for us on purpose,” Nikki spoke up finally. He knew how Mick would react, but that didn’t mean he agreed with him. “But they ain’t all gonna go blind all of a sudden. Suppose we catch the guy. We bring him to town. And then what – just show up at the sheriff? Our faces are on every town pole – you really think he won’t recognize us?”

“You and Mick – yes. But I’m not yet as famous,” Tommy sighed with feigned envy. “They ain’t got my photographs yet, right? I haven’t been arrested before.”

“They saw you when we were skedaddling from the mayor’s house,” Nikki reminded. “Cops know about you now, and all the police offices probably already have your description.”

“It was two weeks ago,” Tommy jerked his shoulder flippantly. “They’ve already forgot what I look like. But if you are so sca-“ Nikki frowned, “I mean, worried, I can cut my hair. And grow a goatee.”

Nikki ruthlessly dismissed his offer of self-sacrifice. “Still too obvious. They’re gonna take you up just in case, as they often do, and how will we get you out then? Besides,” he taunted, “we’re gonna starve if we’re gonna wait for your goatee to grow out.”

“He’s right,” Mick intervened, effectively stifling Tommy’s attempt to protest. “Not about the goatee, but about everything else. No offence, kid, but do you really think they’ll believe that it was your fifteen-year-old stick-thin self that caught a dangerous criminal all by yourself? They’re bound to get suspicious. And it won’t be hard to dig up stuff on you once they are.”

“I’m eighteen!” Tommy jumped up, bubbling with indignation.

“You look like an adolescent,” Mick shot him down. “And behave like a toddler. No, none of us can show up at the station ourselves. We need outside help, and one that doesn’t know what we dragged ourselves into at that – our old friends won’t help us anymore, not for a price we’re able to offer. Any ideas?”

Gloomy silence hung over the cabin for a couple of minutes. The deeper one gets into the underground, the fewer friends from the world above they have. It’s neither strange nor overly hurtful: most want nothing to do with the dangers such a friendship entails, and one gains new, more useful friends quickly anyway. It’s only in situations like theirs that the downsides of it start manifesting.

Finally, Nikki broke the silence.

“I know a guy,” he said slowly. “We used to do coke together back in the day. He never really got out of it…”

“Neither did you,” Tommy murmured.

 “…so he could use some money,” Nikki continued, graciously ignoring him. “He’s a big guy, pretty intimidating, should look convincing enough. Of course, he’s got that cocaine wear and tear, but…”

“How do you know he won’t turn us in?” Mick questioned.

Nikki shrugged. “I don’t. But we used to be pretty good buddies…”

“That’s not a guarantee.”

“…and I’ll just tell him I’ll kill him if he rats us out.”

“And make the psycho face!” Tommy clapped his hands gleefully.

Nikki rolled his eyes, but did stretch his lips into his signature grin, a little bit too toothy and broad for comfort; together with wide, unblinking eyes it gave its witnesses unforgettable memories. As much as Tommy tried to replicate it, he never managed it quite right: his looked more like the face of a village idiot. He didn’t get too upset over it, though; “village idiot” was his brand, and a damn convincing one at that.

“Yes!” Tommy laughed. Mick pressed his lips together tightly and looked away, and the grin on Nikki’s face quickly faded. Mick always told Tommy to “stop encouraging it” when he thought Nikki couldn’t hear, and Tommy always promised and then asked Nikki to pull the face again once the old man was out of sight. He was smarter than the two of them combined, but still just a human that could sometimes get hung up on trifles like this.

“So,” Mick said loudly, clearly trying to steer the conversation away from the shaky ground, “and how much do you think he’ll ask for?”

“Fifty dollars should be enough. It’ll keep him busy for a month at least. And junkies don’t look that much farther into their future.”

“That we can spare,” Mick nodded. “You’re not much of a negotiator – don’t get pissy, that’s true - so I’d make this a starting rate. But don’t offer more than twice of that. You can’t let him know how much money really is in the game – the more money, the higher the stakes, and the higher the stakes, the bolder people get.”

“Do I have to do it?” Nikki winced. “I really doubt I could pull it off better than you.”

“Yeah? How long do you think it’ll take him to figure out that ratting on us will be much more profitable than helping us? Your friendship is a key factor here. He knows you, he’d be much more inclined to help you than some random man.”

“That makes sense,” Nikki sighed. “But if I fuck it up, don’t blame me. I warned you.”

“Don’t fuck it up then,” Mick cut him off harshly. “We don’t get this guy to do it, we’ll have to shell out considerably, and we can’t afford that. You think five grand are a fortune? Well, just you see how quick they run out just on food and lodging in Nevada. And it ain’t gonna be a luxurious vacation either, mind you. It will be enough to get us back on our feet only if we spend it wisely.”

“We going to Nevada? It’s a shithole,” Tommy pursed his lips. A very dumb move, as far as Nikki was concerned, but his opinion was firmly on the last line of a long list of fucks that Tommy didn’t give. “There ain’t a single big city there where we could practice our business. It’s a fucking desert! What are we gonna do there? Mine silver?”

“Where there’s silver, there’s always money,” Nikki said hastily to let Mick, who looked outright murderous, collect himself and reconsider strangling Tommy right there and then, however appealing it seemed to both. “Nobody’s gonna force you into the mines, T-bone… although that might do you good. That silver ain’t sitting there on one spot, y’know. It’s gotta move in some way, and Nevada doesn’t have a railroad. All the money goes in stages and freights. You see where I’m going?”

Tommy didn’t look particularly overjoyed, unknowingly yet successfully sabotaging Nikki’s efforts to keep him alive till the end of the conversation. “Yeah, I see that we’re gonna become simple highwaymen,”

“It’s either that or the gallows,” Mick reminded him, his voice on the verge of a yell. “Chain gang, in your case. Big cities are a no-go for us now, at least for a few months.”

“He just doesn’t wanna learn to shoot properly,” Nikki scoffed. The best way to distract Tommy from complaining about something was to make him sore about something else. “Scared of getting his hands dirty. Lifting is child’s play, of course he wants to stick to it.”

“Hey, that’s bullshit!” Even in the dim light of two candles and Mick’s cigar butt Nikki could see Tommy’s ears redden. “I can shoot just fine! I just let you do it because you clearly get the kick out of it.”

“Oh yes, you’re always hiding behind my back solely for my sake!”

“At least that way you can’t shoot me with your withdrawal-shaking hands!”

“That’s enough.”

Mick never raised his voice, but it always cut through Tommy’s and Nikki’s arguments like a knife through butter, no matter how heated they were. For a while they wallowed in silence so thick it clogged every orifice on Nikki’s body, suffocating him.

Finally Mick spoke, and the acridity of his voice made the silence seem sweet as a chocolate pudding.

“We’re smack in the middle of a city teeming with cops on our tails, trying to figure how to play out our only opportunity to save our asses,” he began, every word a spear, “and you decide it’s the ideal time to drag out each other’s dirty linen and wave it before my eyes. You two seem to not understand what dire straits we got ourselves into, and that’s outright dangerous. If you behave like this now, how can I be sure you won’t start a petty fight at a critical moment?”

“How can you be sure he won’t pee his pants and bolt at the sight of a gun?” Nikki demanded, still riding the high of his rage.

“How can you be sure he won’t wander off spaced out on coke?” Tommy followed, his ears somehow even redder than before.

Under Mick’s heavy gaze both felt their determination cave in, but then came a sudden and much more unnerving change of tune: he chuckled, leaned back onto his chair and put his feet up onto the coffee table. “Well,” he said almost merrily, “you said it, not me. Looks like I have to look for more reliable mates.”

Nikki’s rage that seemed so sturdy underneath him shattered like fine china, hurling him downwards towards the ground.

“What?!” he and Tommy exhaled in unison.

“You’re no good to me if you only see each other’s weaknesses,” Mick readily explained. “You won’t trust someone without any redeemable qualities with your life, will you?”

“But we’d never-” Tommy began, but Mick callously brushed him off.

“How can I know that you’re not saying stuff like this about me behind my back?” He took a slow drag from his cigar, as if purposefully stretching the dispirited silence. “You’re already shitting all over each other in my presence. My turn might come quicker than we all expect.”

This was when Nikki finally crashed into the ground, leaving him aghast and breathless. Tommy also didn’t fare all too well, all color gone from his face and at a loss for words, which was never the case with him. The cigar tip once again looked tempting.

Mick was waiting for an answer rather patiently, but Nikki couldn’t suppress a feeling that he would get up and walk out the door at any second. He hurried to herd his jumbled emotions together so he could formulate a coherent answer.

“Sorry,” he finally said, pushing words out with effort. “I never thought of it this way. We always bicker like that, you know.”

“And it has always been unnecessary,” Mick said sharply, “but now it may be outright deadly. We’re facing a very rough patch, Nikki. If we want to make it out in one piece, we have to change our ways.”

“I understand. Sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” Tommy, who up until now was engrossed in studying a cobweb in the corner of the ceiling, also chimed in.

“I hope so,” Mick finished the cigar with one drawn-out drag and dropped the butt into the ashtray. “Think it over very thoroughly tonight, both of you. You won’t have time for that anymore starting tomorrow – it’s gonna be busy if we want to get going the next night. With that bounty, there’ll be lots of aspirants for this guy’s head, so we’ve got to hurry.”

“Got it, boss.” Nikki rose from his chair on unsteady legs and headed to another room, dragging Tommy with him. “We’re gonna hit the hay then. You be staying up much longer?”

“Need to think some more.”

“Alright. Night, then.”

“Sleep well. We might not get another chance in the nearest future.”

Nikki and Tommy quietly closed the door behind them and curled up on their sleeping mats. For a while the only sound in the room was their breathing.

“Hey, bitch.” Nikki finally said. “Shooting ain’t that scary once you get the gist of it. We could practice a bit once this is over.”

“I’m not scared of it!” Tommy protested in a fierce whisper. “I just don’t want to do it when it’s not needed.”

“Then you gotta pick a different walk of life. You can’t do without a gun here.”

“I know, I know…” Tommy heaved a sigh, turned over on his mat and fell silent. But soon a suspicious rustle came from his direction, and Nikki opened his eyes just in time to see the little bastard shove his hand under his blanket, and then – the sound of skin rubbing against the fabric. Now? Seriously?!

“Don’t you fucking dare-“

“Oh god, relax! I’m just scratching an itch!” Tommy groaned. “I could be doing anything, why’s that the first thing that comes to your mind? That raises some questions about you, you know?”

“What questions?” Nikki pulled up the edge of his blanket defensively.

“For starters, is that really ladies you’re lacking?”

If Nikki’s freedom of movement hadn’t been limited by a blanket, Tommy would have gotten the shit kicked out of him there and then. Fortunately for the kid, it took Nikki long enough to throw the blanket away and roll over towards Tommy for him to free his arms as well. They struggled for a while, but it turned out swinging punches and pulling at each other’s hair while trying to stay quiet was no more productive than a catfight. Nikki and Tommy got so carried away that they barely managed to spot Mick’s shadow looming in the gap under the door, and only had a couple seconds to restore status quo. But it was far from their first time fighting behind his back, so when the door opened, letting in dim light and even thicker cigar smoke, they were already in the opposite corners of the pantry making not very convincing sleeping noises. Tommy was facing the wall to hide his split lip and Nikki wrapped himself in a blanket from head to toe to conceal a few missing strands of hair.

“Bastards,” Mick murmured. He got no reply, but they all knew the warning reached its destinations.

[grandhotelabyss]

It was from James Bryant Conant—president of Harvard for twenty years, WWI poison-gas specialist, WWII executive on the atomic-bomb project, high commissioner of the American zone in Germany after WWII, and truly one of the most influential figures of the twentieth century—that I first got wind of the real purposes of American schooling. Without Conant, we would probably not have the same style and degree of standardized testing that we enjoy today, nor would we be blessed with gargantuan high schools that warehouse 2,000 to 4,000 students at a time, like the famous Columbine High in Littleton, Colorado. Shortly after I retired from teaching I picked up Conant's 1959 book-length essay, The Child the Parent and the State, and was more than a little intrigued to see him mention in passing that the modern schools we attend were the result of a "revolution" engineered between 1905 and 1930. A revolution? He declines to elaborate, but he does direct the curious and the uninformed to Alexander Inglis's 1918 book, Principles of Secondary Education, in which "one saw this revolution through the eyes of a revolutionary."

Inglis, for whom a lecture in education at Harvard is named, makes it perfectly clear that compulsory schooling on this continent was intended to be just what it had been for Prussia in the 1820s: a fifth column into the burgeoning democratic movement that threatened to give the peasants and the proletarians a voice at the bargaining table. Modern, industrialized, compulsory schooling was to make a sort of surgical incision into the prospective unity of these underclasses. Divide children by subject, by age-grading, by constant rankings on tests, and by many other more subtle means, and it was unlikely that the ignorant mass of mankind, separated in childhood, would ever re-integrate into a dangerous whole.

Inglis breaks down the purpose—the actual purpose—of modern schooling into six basic functions, anyone of which is enough to curl the hair of those innocent enough to believe the three traditional goals listed earlier:

1) The adjustive or adaptive function. Schools are to establish fixed habits of reaction to authority. This, of course, precludes critical judgment completely. It also pretty much destroys the idea that useful or interesting material should be taught, because you can't test for reflexive obedience until you know whether you can make kids learn, and do, foolish and boring things.

2) The integrating function. This might well be called "the conformity function," because its intention is to make children as alike as possible. People who conform are predictable, and this is of great use to those who wish to harness and manipulate a large labor force.

3) The diagnostic and directive function. School is meant to determine each student's proper social role. This is done by logging evidence mathematically and anecdotally on cumulative records. As in "your permanent record." Yes, you do have one.

4) The differentiating function. Once their social role has been "diagnosed," children are to be sorted by role and trained only so far as their destination in the social machine merits—and not one step further. So much for making kids their personal best.

5) The selective function. This refers not to human choice at all but to Darwin's theory of natural selection as applied to what he called "the favored races." In short, the idea is to help things along by consciously attempting to improve the breeding stock. Schools are meant to tag the unfit—with poor grades, remedial placement, and other punishments—clearly enough that their peers will accept them as inferior and effectively bar them from the reproductive sweepstakes. That's what all those little humiliations from first grade onward were intended to do: wash the dirt down the drain.

6) The propaedeutic function. The societal system implied by these rules will require an elite group of caretakers. To that end, a small fraction of the kids will quietly be taught how to manage this continuing project, how to watch over and control a population deliberately dumbed down and declawed in order that government might proceed unchallenged and corporations might never want for obedient labor.

That, unfortunately, is the purpose of mandatory public education in this country. And lest you take Inglis for an isolated crank with a rather too cynical take on the educational enterprise, you should know that he was hardly alone in championing these ideas. Conant himself, building on the ideas of Horace Mann and others, campaigned tirelessly for an American school system designed along the same lines. Men like George Peabody, who funded the cause of mandatory schooling throughout the South, surely understood that the Prussian system was useful in creating not only a harmless electorate and a servile labor force but also a virtual herd of mindless consumers.

—John Taylor Gatto, "Against School"

[dieamoric]

my official stance on the word queer

it is exhausting how 2 people have directly approached me over this and more have indirectly commented on it. please leave me alone and stop breaking my dni.

it would be infinitely more meaningful and worthwhile to instead of harassing queer teens or adults on the internet for using the word queer, being queer, or not calling queer a slur, that you instead either scroll past, block these blogs, or crack open archive.org or another queer history library online or irl in order to learn about the actual history of the word instead of parroting stuff that came before you from people who revel in the fact that you fell for their rhetoric.

queer WAS a slur, and is still used as a slur in various places, mostly the south in the US. i acknowledge this and understand this better than others, apparently, because i also acknowledge that it has, in fact, truthfully, been reclaimed by the entire lgbt community decades ago.

i refuse to let my oppressors use queer against me, because it's my word, OUR word, and using it for OURselves is empowering us and OUR community, and refusing to let our oppressors use OUR word to hold power over us

i am not censoring the word, i am not calling it a slur, i will never trigger tag for it, the most you are going to get is me outright tagging the word or using it in my post. please use the post and tag blocking function in tumblr settings for it's intended purpose if it bothers you.

when i say that my and others usage of the word as an academic term and an identity does not affect you, this is what i mean. you have the options to reduce the 'harm' you are experiencing at hearing or seeing the word to zero, and yet you seek it out. by purposely triggering yourself you are self harming? as somebody who does this too, you need to practice some self control against your impulses. ask a friend for help stopping you before you doomscroll or engage perhaps. back on topic:

when i call my community queer and refer to 'queers' or queer people, i am referring to people who are also queer and do not mind the word, or even like it. to me the queer community is one and the same as the lgbt community, but if you want to alienate yourself because of hangups with that particular word, then that's your prerogative.

queer is a neat little word to encompass a broad range of identities and people, i do not purposely go out of my way to refer to people individually as it because i am well enough aware that some people do in fact do not want to be called it.

majority of the people i personally talk to are either okay with the word, or have enough understanding and comprehension skills that they are aware that i am not using it as a slur when i say the word at all in reference to our either shared identities, or different identities.

when i say that queer is not a slur outright i am, not to be redundant, referring to how the entire lgbt community have re-adopted the word from our oppressors in order to empower, uplift, and find comradery ourselves under that label.

i am NOT saying that it has never been a slur, or that it still isn't used in a derogatory way here and there, or that it hasn't been used towards me in a derogatory way, because all of these things are true.

i am however saying that your insistence that it is a dirty word that should not be used as an umbrella term for an entire group of people, or that it hasn't been reclaimed by this entire group of people, and instead only ever individually, is in fact terf rhetoric. or radfem rhetoric if you want to get extremely pedantic with me.

i block people on sight who tag things like "q slur" or say that "queer is a slur" unironically without a single critical thought of where that phrase even came from. i block people who sui bait, mock, or otherwise harass people who say the same thing as me. i block posts i don't like, as well.

i do not care to hear your opinion. i am exercising tools available to me on this website to curate my own space so i may experience things the way i want to, without coming across something that makes me feel bad or stresses me out. i encourage you all to do the same if you adamantly refuse to do your own research, get out from your echo chambers, or realize there is more to just terfism than just hating transfems and trans women.

do not make it my problem. because it isn't. this is MY blog and you can all block me if you don't like what i say on it.

[daisychainsandbowties]

This Dragon/Temeraire AU is driving me feral (half-intended).

Okay, so with Bea, are you thinking her parents are both Chinese, or just one of them?

Because I'm thinking maybe only her mom is from China, and yeah she's a diplomat, and her dad is British diplomat. And so that creates a tension of her mother thinking it's okay for Bea to be working with dragons, but her father will never like it.

But also, they could both be Chinese diplomats stationed long-term in the UK. If Bea had grown up in China, she would probs deserve one of the more important dragon breeds, but not an Imperial or Celestial.

So, in Britain, they kind of let Bea work with Temeraire because he's a Celestial. But maybe they also low-key hate it because why is Bea working with a crew. That's so... debasing.

Temeraire, on the other hand, loves Bea. I am thinking, this story would be set maybe a decade after Laurence has passed away (rip)? And Temeraire loves his crew now, but you know how the British Dragon Corps is, they're kinda rough and tumble. Then along comes Bea who's very proper and reads Chinese books with him (perhaps, Bea even respectfully gives him a present of a book when they first met) and she reminds him so much of Laurence sometimes, and he is all starry-eyed over her for it.

Then when Bea makes captain, her mother uses her influence so that Bea gets Temeraire's hatchling. But also! Temeraire helps her mom with it because he loves Bea and it's the only way he would let her go LMAO.

So yes, Bea comes into this Celestial thinking she doesn't deserve it. And maybe most of the other people in the British corps thinks the same thing too, but it's not like any of them could stop both Temeraire and an important diplomat.

Bea is a conundrum to them, and it's even a relief when she's sent away. The only one who has a hard time accepting that she has to go away is Temeraire.

oh same! the temeraire dragons are my favourite way of doing dragons in anything ever. 

with bea yeah i am thinking that her mum is from China & her father is British. & they argue at length about the optics of sending their 7y/o to work with dragons, but since it’s tem & it isn’t far from their estate, he agrees, so long as she also recieves a classical education. which is how we end up with a beatrice who should, by all rights, be half-wild, but who is also taught manners and etiquette and fencing and, thanks to tem and his & laurence’s library, she also learns advanced mathematics and physics and aeronautics and philosophy and poetry and a kind of eclectic mixture of disciplines. 

BUT she also works on tem’s crew and flies with him & listens to him for hours talking about his adventures. & she dreams of seeing the world on dragonback too. so she’s in this weird position of working a dragon crew, but tem clearly likes her more than a normal crew member, meanwhile she’s also educated and wealthy and not like the children she grows up with. so she ends up slightly isolated, quite lonely.

& tem, seeing this, decides that bea is going to have a celestial, & nobody can change his mind about it. he adores this deeply formal and stuiously proper girl who shows up the first day with a book which she reads to him standing at attention and then gradually falling asleep against his wing. & she’s very like laurnce because she’s a fish out of water & very stiff & mannered but also indescribably warm and genuine. 

so yeah, even though, barring exceptional longwing circumstances, Nobody makes captain at eighteen, he just insists on it, and the corps want a celestial so they shrug. but then, ofc, Something Happens with bea and her parents do not want her in the corps so they strongarm the ocs into laying claim to her (bc yes they DO need celestials) and they assign lilith as her lieutenant while lil waits for Halo to secure the succession. (i love the idea of a tem & beamom tag team where no they don’t like each other but YES they will work together for nepotism purposes. neither of them give a damn about the fairness of it, & tem knows that beatrice deserves it anyway)

so now bea is in this strange organisation with a legendary dragon and a legacy hanging over her (& her secret, which in 19th century Britain could get her in serious trouble). it’s perfect i love her and meddlesome tem. 

[littledreamling]

all the get to know me flowers you haven't answered yet? 😁 (yes I read tags and I enable oversharing)

Cara, that's almost all of them lmaooo (thank you for enabling my oversharing). As a compromise, I'll pick the ones I got really excited to answer when I reblogged it!

cactus ⇢ something you’re currently learning (about)?

For the foreseeable future, my main learning focus is microbiology with a focus on genetics, genomics, and the production of hormones via proteins. My intended career path is to do research at a university, hopefully studying the human genome and genetic diseases. In the short term, however, I'm learning about all kinds of things! This past semester, I took an absolutely fascinating history class (as I'm sure long-time followers will know) and this upcoming semester, I'm looking forward to a creative writing class as well as two philosophy/religion classes (Legal, Scientific, and Critical Reasoning and Eastern Religious Traditions). I try to include as many elective classes as I can because I'm trying to get as much scope as I can in my education. In the immediate (as in, the book I just put down), I'm learning about String Theory and physics, particularly in trying to find what's been dubbed the God Equation. I've never been interested in physics, but it's more interesting than I've ever given it credit for!

abelia ⇢ do you have a particular piece of jewelry you always wear or can’t part with?

I wear several rings on a daily basis, but only two have any sentimental value: one is a Celtic knot ring that I feel really connected to, and the other is a ring with the greek letters of my sorority (I know, shocking that I'm in a sorority, go ahead and judge me now lmao) which my mom gave me when I joined (she was in the same sorority in college, which is something that really connects the two of us). My other significant piece of jewelry (some might say my signature piece) is a necklace that belonged to my great-uncle. We had a really interesting relationship and I have some really fond childhood memories with him, so being able to wear his necklace every day is very special to me.

aloe vera ⇢ what’s something (mundane) you really want to experience in life?

It might sound odd, but I want an office, specifically an academic office. It's such a mundane thing to want and very over-romanticized in fics and in general, but if it's going to be my inevitable future, I should probably start romanticizing it now, right? I love the idea of having a space that's all my own, dedicated to my studies; a shrine to my life's work and my passions. I want to be able to decorate it with tons of potted plants and microscope slides and science posters and far too many coffee mugs. It already feels like a home away from home and I don't even have it yet lmao

nutmeg ⇢ how’s your room/home decorated? do you have a specific theme or style going on?

My room, supposedly, is kind of boho themed, though I hesitate to call it that. Realistically, I fell in love with that aesthetic when I was in middle school, begged my parents to let me redecorate when I was in high school, and then very quickly realized how expensive redecorating is (and how buying things for a boho aesthetic defeats the purpose of the entire exercise, which is supposed to be items collected from traveling the world) so I gave up about halfway through. I think the style of my room can be consolidated into three words: wood, color, and books. Almost everything in my room is either made of wood or very colorful and I have far too many books piled on every available surface. It suits me, I think, and while there are some changes I would make if I had the time and money, I'm pretty happy with it overall!

From this ask!

[thebadtimewolf]

@viscountessevie / @allkinds-oftrash replied to your post "you. i see ur tags. u r right..."

GO OFF!! Thanks for the tag :) and tbh you should remove the cancellation and yell it louder for the people in the back!

I mean, yeah but the ppl in the back got tenrose earplugs on the tracks and the train is coming. so yknow.

like yeah, they cringe now, say martha deserve better now, but lets not get it twisted - as soon as ten regenerated into himself in journeys end - he wasnt the same at all.

that was a whole nother man. he looked at rose the same way he asked torchwood leader in the impossible planet/satan's pit for a hug when she asked if he was still himself before being shot.

And he clearly took it to mean 'no im visually still the same, just went over that'

And then when they were playing catch up, he still wasn't look at her like he was flirtingly laughing about rose coming back - it mimicked similar to martha's 'ur joking' about finding the hand's origin in utopia AND THATS JARRING (pun intended)

nine and ten always had their hand open to grab in order to run or just hold, keep one close.

But this one didn't. He purposely moved from them at the sight of losing donna/tardis, not in a protective way (see how jack got shot in the open but also where Rose was standing before moving closer to the doctor) but rather from tiny anguish to already having several flashes of torturing the daleks for this.

Not once thinking Rose was in clear blasting range because this one didn't care anymore. He lost Donna. None of them mattered. Lock us up.

The fact that the Doctor isn't upset that martha has a plan but, rather that the plan is WAY TOO SIMILAR TO HOW HE LOST GALLIFREY (which shows that martha and donna are considered equals to himself [just like the master because we're time lords] in this new body but not rose? hm wonder why]) and i believe that hit him more than the warp star tactic.

The fact that Rose had to walk to him and force her fingers and hand into his own when he was watching the supposed death of donna and the tardis because his hand wasn't open like it used to be - because he didn't have the same feelings for her. Not anymore. That was the second time his feelings got him to lose another regeneration. No second chances to a T. - is wild.

He's holding her hand but shes gripping his. She needs touch because she missed him but he doesnt because he didnt miss her and what she brought out of him.

That costed him a companion because of it.

That isn't a look you give someone that you missed when they gleefully approve what is essentially what you had to do to fight the daleks. That is a look of shocking disappointment. im telling you he didn't love her anymore.

all that racism he learned from rose (with additional help from joan) all poured into tentoo and all the non-racism bits came from donna.

Davros had the solution he didn't have during the time war - transporting the person with the bomb and detonation away from said bomb and detonation - and used it on martha first immediately post haste. Just like the Doctor, Davros saw her as one of Doctor's equals than he ever saw Rose. Saw the two most likely to commit genocide to his species via the tardis and went, lets put them in a light cage so I CAN SEE WHERE THEY AT

But yeah. RTD's antiblackness really shows.

and the fact tenth doctor - new and improved - tells rose 'does it need saying' is real character growth. he's literally cutting out the source of where his prev. ten's antiblackness came from and told her in deleted scenes to give it 50 yrs. like damn it hurts but damn that also a fucking roast.

[fruityocto]

! Introduction Alert !

personal account!! @tacozonesu + @softandfluffycalliefan is literally the best person in the whole wide world.. please go give her some love on her art too!!! its SO pretty!!(just like herself!!) ((love you wifey <3<3<))

anyway yeah i wanted a personal account because im dropping the whole social media thing and just want to do it for myself and not to build a following like i originally intended when i first started my social media journey back in summer of 2020.. i will not be giving out the name of it for multiple reasons.

anywho, i go by They/He and im pansexual. Please try to use tone tags with certain messages!! i have a hard time deciphering tone through only text without them, after some bad experiences with that i decided i needed tone tags. please try not to use feminine terms for me(unless for satire/humorous purposes)

im trying my best to improve myself every day as a person, for my girlfriend and the people around me. if i say something wrong by accident, please try to correct me in a polite way, i havent had good experiences with people when i slip up, so please be patient with me.

with that out of the way, im a huge fan of splatoon and owl house, amongst many other things. I like to draw a ton..i wouldnt say my art is the best, but i try. i also have a fascination for flowers and crystals... it comforts me in a way. i just never talked about it to anybody because i kinda. yknow. wanted to keep it to myself as a little thing i can study and learn about. im too shy to talk about something like that with people, yknow?

[ uh oh girlfriend ramble😭 ]

i have a BIG fear of bugs though, and my girlfriend is obsessed with them, so its a little bit stupid..but she deals with them for me. she doesnt kill them, which im starting to not wanting to, she just cares for them in the gentlest way possible.. which is something i literally ADORE about her. shes so sweet to almost every creature in the world, she even took care of a mantis for like.. a week or two straight. it was so cute i CANTTT shes so sweet and i love her to death and will personally throw hand with anyone who tells me otherwise. shes one of the nicest people ive ever met, she helps me in every way she can and i love her so much for it. shes so supportive of everything i do.. im so happy i have her. shes one of the most special people to me, and she plays a big part of my healing process. whenever i think of what my life would be without her, its just.. sad. she brightens up my days even when she doesnt try and she just warms my heart..im being so cheesy and i genuinely dont care anymore this girl is my everything. ever. not to mention how drop dead gorgeous she is. I WAS SITTING IN MATH CLASS NEXT TO HER AND FOR LIKE. 5 MINUTES STRAIGHT. I STARED AT HER THE WHOLE TIME. i didnt even notice i was staring at her. i think that just PROVES my point. i love her so much and she has her own special place in my heart and godDAMNIT i wish i was with her right now. just. laying down and talking to eachother while at like.. 2 in the morning while running on an hour of sleep. SHE MAKES MY HEART FLUTTER SO MUCH.. I WAS IN SOCIAL STUDIES AND SHE WRAPPED HER ARM AROUND MY WAIST FROM THE SIDE AND I SQUEALED IN MY HEAD IT WAS LIKE A CHEESY X READER FANFICTION but it was SO COOL EEEEEEWJDJNSNDSNSNNS

dear god i really just made a whole essay about my girlfriend..i think that just comes to show how much she means to me sjdjsndn....i had to write the warning AFTER i made that because i realized how much i wrote BAHA

if you got this far, thank you for reading you have so much patience oh my god........take my creature while ur here

- sam☆

[writingonesdreams]

I posted 3,231 times in 2022

That's 1,370 more posts than 2021!

615 posts created (19%)

2,616 posts reblogged (81%)

I tagged 2,845 of my posts in 2022

Only 12% of my posts had no tags

#writeblr - 484 posts

#other people's work - 307 posts

#ask - 243 posts

#writing advice - 220 posts

#wip: tears of iron - 218 posts

#writing discussion - 172 posts

#sts - 158 posts

#other people's writing - 155 posts

#spilled ink - 147 posts

#reply reblog - 131 posts

Longest Tag: 138 characters

#the sad truth is some friendships are just useful and not true or genuine or honest or able to whistand differences in values and opinions

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Why coax the story out of your head

You can't keep all that detailed info in your head all the time.

You owe it to yourself to have it recorded. In scenes. So you can read it and enjoy it for yourself for comfort in rainy days.

Cause wordcount goals and writing updates are so cool. They feel all professional.

Brag about having actually written.

Ticking off wordcounts, chapters, scenes and arcs feels very fulfilling. Like scratching things off from the to-do list. So good.

You will never learn what your writing weaknesses are. Then you can't join those cool sympathetic discussions with other writers about "yeah I always do that and I forget that stuff..."

You will also never get nice tips from the field how to manage that.

You can know all the theory you want, but you will never improve on those weaker things, if you don't know what they are.

You can give meta behind-the-scenes-info. Writing this made me feel xxx. Working on that chapter made my heart go all xxx.

Posting cool quotes and snippets out of your writing. VALIDATION

People can read and fall in love in the story with you. <3

Fans of the worlds and people inside your head!

Connection. Understanding. People who like your writing will likely have many common interests and tastes.

Finishing stuff is HUGE confidence boost.

No word is ever wasted, cause you are learning.

Rereading your story when you forget the details. Serisouly, worth millions.

Focus on the content, not on the style. Focus on what and not on the how. We are all natural storytellers with excellent practice in our heads. Use that. Be proud of that.

You probably won't notice the imperfections first. Enjoy it! It's perfect little baby. Once you notice them, celebrate! You have grown! You are a better writer now!

Experience. That pesky little thing you need with skills by, y'know, actually doing them.

Stories are the best way for the brain to transmit information. The most natural, enjoyable, easiest way. Human brains are wired for it. So the greatest way to explain your awesome world/characters/plot/themes? Show them through the story. In scenes.

Writing advice masterlist

Part 2: How to coax the story out of your head

371 notes - Posted February 18, 2022

#4

Three drafts with their respective purposes:

Content. Does it make sense? Are the emotions, character arcs and themes coming through how you intended? Is it understandable?

Structure. How is the pacing? Is everything logically connected together?

Style. Editing and fine tuning. How does it sound? Is there a better word? Is the sentence structure varied enough?

This is how you can measure your story. This has to function. The rest is topic, genre and taste.

375 notes - Posted March 3, 2022

#3

How to coax the story out of your head

The key is to find the process that suits you. Duh.

This is actually way more complicated than it sounds and requires some serious autoethnographic exploration and empirical experimentation.

Remember, there are no wrong or right answers. Whatever works for you is the best method. Don't let anybody tell you otherwise.

Writing is serious work. Don't let others belittle that, they obviously don't understand how hard a commitment that is.

Writing requires time. Space. Quiet. No disturbtions. No obligations jumping out the corner.

Sacrifaces of things, easier things you would rather be doing. Visits. That new Netflix series. Scrolling through social media. Reading another writing advice book.

Don't strain yourself. Even if you are in the flow. If you do, you will power down, exhaust yourself and are less likely to start. Your brain will go all defensive and won't allow you to get back into something as straining again.

The hardest things for most people is to start. So don't fret about starting. Idea to try: surprise yourself with sudden jumping to the keyboard and writing. Don't overthink. Overthinking is paralyzing.

Perfectionism is more common in people than the opposite. Everyone wants to do it well. It's the enemy of creation, spontaneity and playfulness.

Let the pressure go woozh. Ideas: Write the worst thing you possibly can. Freewrite. Call it the shitty first draft. If that's too evaluative for you (it's for me anyway, brr) call it the Zero draft. The no pressure draft.

Listen. Redrafts are normal. They are the sign of professional writers. Students and people who don't know how to write go with their first drafts, all vulnerable and unpolished, because they have waited that long or can't look at it anymore or don't want to permit themselves to be mistaken.

Professional writers know there are at least 3 stages to every text. Zero draft where you play and create. Second draft, where you put things in order to make sense. Third draft, where you let out the perfectionist who fine tunes the details. (Use however many more drafts you need).

The edits don't mean it was necessarily bad or wrong. It means the wip could shine even more. Try seeing it as underlining, polishing, highlighting.

The first drafts don't have to be shitty. I'm personally not a fan of this saying, cause usually they contain the most magic. We should value our first drafts for what they are. Sweat and creation, collection of fun and work.

There are outliners and pantsers. They come in all shades in between. Most people use a mix of both, wandering somewhere on the spectrum.

Thing to try: Freewrite about your day before writing as a way to 1) clear your thoughts 2) get into the flow 3) warm up exercise 4) to get rid of the respect before the blank page. Cause you have, y'know, already written something today.

Some people like reading before writing. Sets your brain for words and sentences and nice phrases.

Many people use rituals of their choosing to set their brain into the writing mode. Specific drink, position, smell, place, time, music, reading a similar book, reading what you have written, rereading the outline or notes from last session, etc. This is how you can create a habit. This is how you can get inspired "on command". Trian your muse to show up, when it suits you.

Positive mindset and good mood are way more productive than negative one. Fear, stress, unease all hinder you. Try to have the most relaxed attitude you can. Positive associations with writing are crucial.

When it stops being fun, change something. Take a break. Find the problem and fix it.

Listen to yourself. Trust your brain to connect things and figure them out.

If you are blocked or writing feels too much like a chore, work on figuring out the why. Freewriting is (again, I know) a great way to do this. Let yourself write whatever crosses your mind. Follow your thoughts and see what comes out. Maybe you hate the scene you are writing. Maybe you have a plot point you only feel like you need to have there, but don't actually want there. Be honest and raw with yourself.

When you feel like something has to be there, it's usually just holding you back. Leave it out. Jump over it and come back to to reevaluate it later. It's your work, your story, your tastes. You have all the right in the world to include things you want there. Don't feel like you have to do anything you don't want to.

To try out: Montage writing. Write out of order. Put the things in order later. Jump with your thoughts to any scene/part you want. Put in brackets for things you will figure out/add later.

Lots of novels were created at "walks". This means the writers spend lots of time thinking about their story in detail while on long walks, and then just threw everything they figured out onto the page.

Quick drafting works well to get the most from intense focus on your story and writing it all down as fast as possible. Quick writing also helps to hinder the inner editor - the creep can't keep up if you write fast to keep up with your thoughts.

The speed is really individual though, depending on numerous factors, so don't compare yourself to others and listen to yourself instead.

Depending on your process, speed and care at the first stage, the first draft requires different levels of editing. Not all first drafts have to be shitty and not all of them require the same amount of rework. I repeat, first drafts don't have be shitty, first drafts don't have to be shitty...(the need for editing does not make it a requirement by any means!)

Writing is a physically difficult acitivy. It requires lots of sitting without movement. Don't underestimate the strain it puts on your body.

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385 notes - Posted February 21, 2022

#2

Looking for people to participate in this little survey! 

From: university research project

Wanted: Writers with any experience with scientific and creative texts 

Your help would be greatly appreciated!

487 notes - Posted July 31, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Types of intelligence for your OCs

What kind of intelligence does your character posses? Based on theory of multiple intelligences, these are some ideas what kind of smarts your characters might posses that aren’t the typical academic or street smarts. 

1. Visual-spatial (space smart)

These people are good at visualizing things, seeing in 3D, being able to imagine how things look even out of sight from the information they have about it. They are good with directions, maps, charts and pictures. Eye for drawing, patterns and puzzles. 

Especially useful for: architects, engineers, artists, pilots

2. Linguistic-verbal (word smart)

The ability to use words well, when writing and speaking. Typical strenghts are telling stories, memorizing information, love for reading, skill with words, debating and persuasive skills, adept at explaining complicated subjects. Also tend to be great at languages. 

Especially useful for: writers, journalists, lawyers, teachers, public speakers

3. Logical (reasoning smart)

Not necessarily but possibly mathematical, these people are great at reasoning, pattern recognition and logical analysis. Enjoyment for abstract thinking and ideas, excellent problem-solving skills and logical argumentation are other common traits. Pattersn, categories, relationships. 

Especially useful for: mathematicians, accountants, scientists, and detectives.

4. Bodily-kinesthetic (body smart)

Great hand-eye cordination, physical movement, often skilled at sports, dancing and creating things with their hands. Learn and remember rather by doing than listening or reading. Sense of timing and mind-body union excellent. 

Especially useful for: dancers, sculptors, actors, athletes, surgeons, crafts people, soldiers, police officers

5. Musical (sound smart)

Sensitive listeners. Thinking in patterns, recognizing rhythms, notes and melodies, good at remembering tunes, these people often enjoy singing or playing instruments. Often show great understanding of musical structure and know quickly when they hear someone going off-key. 

Especially useful for: musical teachers, composers, musicians, 

6. Interpersonal (people smart)

These people are very good at understanding and interacting with others. From verbal to non-verbal communication, they are proficient at assessing motivations, moods and desires of others and seeing things from multiple perspectives. Great communicators, create positive relationships with others easily and solve group dynamics and group conflicts well. Also enjoy discussions, debates and teamwork. 

Especially useful for: psychologists, counselors, salespeople, politicians, philosophers, teachers, managers, team leaders

7. Intrapersonal (self smart)

The opposite of interpersonal smarts is the intrapersonal intelligence, where people are very in tune with themselves and their feelings. They are honest with themselves, enjoy self-reflection, analysing theories and ideals, love daydreaming, and show great self-awareness and assessment of their own strenghts and weaknesses. 

Especially useful for: writers, philosophers, theorits, scientists

Bonus types: 

8. Creative (ideas smart) 

People that show exceptional curiousity, get inspired by little things around them and connect ideas and concepts in an unsual way. It’s a more feeling-based, spontaneous type of intelligence that gets less recognition, but brings immense benefits in all fields. 

Especially useful for: artists, marketers, scientists, concept artists

9. Abstract (concept smart)

Drawn to abstract ideas, these people enjoy deep discussions, don’t like to settle on one truth and ask questions that have no easy or no answer at all. Connecting, conceptualizing, analysing, listening and putting things together, they are great at seeing things from a distance, seeing the whole and not just the pieces. 

Especially useful for: scientists, philosophers, researchers, theorists, designers, analysts

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10,319 notes - Posted June 11, 2022

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