#along with writing in little chunks and editing to see if that can help me retrain whatever's been fucked up basically

[pastafossa]

Ok. TRT business and a question, cause I need feedback from readers at this point.

First: the final chapter of the Raven What If fic should be posted this week, I'm about done editing it. The bigger, much more important question: So I have a potential chapter for tomorrow. I've been worrying and fretting over posting it, not because I think it's bad, but because it's short by TRT standards, currently around 2k words, and it both frustrates me and makes me feel weirdly guilty at the thought of dropping what's so much less than my usual. I'm used to being able to write longer chapters, being able to squeeze everything I want into them, and I have a literal outline of this goddamn chapter that has this good stuff in it and I know what needs to be written. I can see it right there. The movie is playing in my head just fine. But the truth of it is, my writing is slow at the moment thanks to post-covid brain fog. I'm checking in with my doctor, I've started taking specific supplements (which I'm hoping to see results from in the next few weeks), I'm clawing my way back bit by bit, but I continue to write slowly, mostly because I either can't focus or I have to stop every few sentences to struggle with a word I can't remember. It's incredibly frustrating. The thing is though, at least I *am* writing, which gives me hope. But this is where you - the readers - come in. Because right now we have two possible paths for updates going forward for a bit. Option 1: Longer gaps between our usual chapters. If we go this road, it'll take longer but as I chip away, I'll eventually have the full planned chapter, which I'd post. This would be a chapter closer to what we've had most weeks for the past oh god like 2 years. At current speed I'd drop it in a few weeks, and then hopefully the next one would come a little faster, until eventually we're back to our usual. So basically, you'd get your big chunks when the updates do come, and the same natural endpoints and arcs as before. Drawback is obviously the time between updates, so you won't be fed as often (though I'd try to find things in my editing folder to clean up and drop, like the Raven fic).

Option 2: Shorter chapters but more regular updates. If we go this road, we'd be back to weekly updates of our adventures with Matt and Jane. There'd just be less than usual for a bit and then, hopefully as I improve, you'll see the word count begin to climb back up. So in this case, you'd be getting a weekly dose of TRT, the usual fluff and angst and action, but the catch is less overall to read (likely individual scenes rather than multiples), and potentially sudden endpoints/more cliffhangers as I 'end' at what was outlined as a scene change.

Which way I go will mostly depend on ya'll tbh. I think I can make either work, since I've managed to start writing a little again and I really, really am hoping the supplements help. But since this'll potentially alter the update schedule we've had for years, I wanted to see which you'd prefer.

So, Option One - longer gaps but long chapters - or Option Two - shorter chapters weekly. Which would you prefer?

#the red thread #i have been so gd frustrated. like it doesn't help my meds and other illnesses ALREADY cause brain fog #now i have this shit #where i can literally see in my head what needs to happen but words no go for long time #and i've gotten so used to long TRT chapters that i've been fighting the guilt over the idea of shorter chapters #so i figured i'd check in because if ya'll are actually fine with that then i'd feel better about it #alternatively i just keep plucking away and eventually drop the full length chapter #i feel like the feedback for whichever way we go will help me settle and not feel bad about longer gaps/shorter chapters #in the meantime i'm doing what i can. following doctor's orders and taking my supplements #along with writing in little chunks and editing to see if that can help me retrain whatever's been fucked up basically #so. option 1 or option 2?

[wordsnstuff]

Hi!

I have reached out to more people, but I'm still having problems with this, and I wanted to hear another opinion.

As a writer, do you have problems continuing a story once you hit a difficult scene?

Because I do, and honestly it's getting me frustrated at this point.

I have a good idea and a plot already done, but every time I hit a difficult scene I just get stuck, and can't write for weeks, sometimes months. I hardly even open the documents when it happens, and sometimes it comes right when I'm on a writing spree and being happy with my writing.

Do you have any advice on how to deal with this? How can I get past this issue and just keep writing more frequently?

I'd really like to hear it!

What do you do when you hit a snag?

When approaching this topic, the frustrating thing is that age-old advice has a lot of truth to it. Sometimes it is true that the best thing you can do when you're stuck is to stop struggling against the resistance and take a meaningful, intentional break to rest your mind and reset your thought process. Sometimes the key to getting started again is shaking up the routine and the altering the process until you find a new combination of habits that meet you where you are.

However, for a lot of us, the turmoil reaches deeper than that. A lot of people who do creative things are neurodivergent, so that has a place in the conversation when discussing what's preventing us from realizing our vision. Even if you don't identify with specific neurodivergence, there are a lot of tools and techniques that have been tried and tested for coping with immense, intrinsic difficulty with things like productivity, mindfulness, interoception, focus, and consistency. Just because these techniques are not specifically designated for you doesn't mean they won't be effective for you.

It is always a helpful exercise to take a step back and examine how you're feeling, both when you are writing and when you aren't, and try to identify any areas where you might be able to improve by changing things within your control.

When it comes to a specific scene holding you back from carrying on, I usually find that it's the result of a decision I made earlier in the plot that isn't serving the story as it continues to develop. I would take a chunk of time to take an analytical look at the scene, where it's come from, what is and isn't sparking in it (is the stagnation mostly due to the characters, events, environment, or lack of information, and is it a scene that is imperative to the reader's understanding?). A lot of the time, it's a scene that can be cut, or it's a scene that can be made redundant by infusing the necessary information of the scene into another place within the story.

If you've identified a scene as "a difficult scene", ask yourself why. If it's daunting because it's too long, then it can probably be cut way down and then added to later if while editing it seems a little thin. If it's challenging because things aren't falling into place and you aren't getting into a flow, then the set-up for the scene probably hasn't been developed effectively and you need to decide whether you're gonna go back in the draft to investigate or move on and return to it while editing.

If the information in the scene needs to be communicated at this specific point in the story, the problem might be the way you've chosen to present it. Pay attention to what your instincts are telling you, because pushing through a scene for the sake of getting past it will not produce a compelling scene to read. If you need to move past it, you have permission to do that. You can always come back and completely dig it up later.

Overall, I think it's very important to write with acceptance that the plot may not turn out the way you planned it. The process is much more effective and much more enjoyable if you aren't trudging along on a predestined path. If the characters and story develop outside of the lines, see where they go. You'll always have the opportunity to return to the outline and tailor later.

Best of luck,

x Kate

#writing #writeblr #writespo #writing advice #writing tips

[peachesofteal]

Seeing your recent struggle with keeping up with people wanting to see more of your fic I wanted to ask; is it better to save up a fics chapters (rough drafts/full/etc) and then post them slowly as i change or edit them along the way or should I just post as I write. One on hand posting when I write makes me really happy and fulfilled but then I feel like I can't change much about the story (I'm bad at planning) and I feel pressured on the other hand if I save up I sometimes talk myself out of writing it and it leads to my blog/account dying you're a writer I really respect and look up to so I wanted some advice <3 enjoy your life <<<333

Hi! Do what you ✨ want ✨ Do what will make you happy.

The key (my opinion) to writing fic and enjoying it is first and foremost, make sure you’re doing what you like. I personally, write large chunks at a time and then hold onto them. Then I can live in my little worlds for a while, edit as I please, and once I've passed over them a few times, I post them. I might have large pieces of a story done, but not effectively strung together or even polished into a chapter. I like this because it keeps me ahead. Editing is harder for me vs writing, so I tend to procrastinate a bit. I don't put pressure on myself to make deadlines or schedules. I want to enjoy this part of my life, not dread it.

My number one piece of advice is, since you said you're bad at planning, is to outline. Outline your chapters with your ideas, write the pieces that you're excited about, string it together following the outline, and keep going. An outline will help keep you on track and for me personally, helps me make sense of my writing.

Just make sure you're enjoying it and the rest will come.

#peaches asks

[thebramblewood]

What advice would you give to a simmer just starting out writing stories with their sims? How do you build engagement with your posts? How do you write such addictive stories?

Wow! Okay. Buckle in because this will be a long one. I think the most important thing is writing for yourself first and foremost. Don't let your passion be driven solely by engagement (though it's impossible not to be motivated by it a little bit!) but by your own desire to see your project through. I've been a creative writer forever, and 75% of that writing has been written for an audience of one. But sometimes a character or concept will grab me by the throat and refuse to let go, and that's what keeps me invested. I unfortunately can't tell you how that happens. It usually feels like a happy accident. But when it does, it comes through, and readers will want in on it too. That being said, here are some tips for actual presentation:

Engaging visuals. I don't think Reshade or fancy editing is a requirement, but I can't pretend I didn't see a huge uptick in engagement when I started using it. Now, that may also be because I started thinking more about the composition of a shot. Diversify your angles and perspectives, and don't be afraid to zoom way in or out! Move that camera around as much as possible! I know very little about the technicalities of film and photography, but I think the more you practice, the better your eye becomes for what looks dynamic.

Legible captions. I'll be brutally honest: when I'm scrolling the dash, I'm less likely to stop for story posts if the text on the images is not immediately readable. I've by no means perfected this, but I've tweaked my own text over time to make it larger, and I find that very light colors with a black border is almost always the best option. I also try to visualize leaving space for the text to fit as I'm taking shots (though I sometimes forget).

Text-only transcript. My controversial opinion is that I don't like reading transcripts because it's easier for me to engage and follow along if I can see the images and words interacting. BUT I still think it's important to include them, so I always have one under the cut. If you'd rather not do captions on images at all, I personally find it more engaging for the text to be broken up throughout rather than in a big chunk at the end. This is especially helpful if you're writing more descriptive prose, as most people (including me) unfortunately have very short attention spans.

Adaptability! It's helpful to have an outline (whether it's in your head or written) of where you want to end up and how you're going to get there, but the most fulfilling part of writing for me is in giving myself license to follow new ideas or let old ones evolve, even if that means going a bit off-track. Also, it's tempting to establish a formula and lock yourself into an aesthetic from the start, but if you feel like something isn't working, don't be afraid to change it up! You'll be unhappy if you stick with it just for consistency's sake, and you'll rob yourself of opportunities to experiment and have fun. I think readers also appreciate a shake-up so that things never start to feel stale.

That's a lot, I know, but hopefully some of it helps. I've only been doing this here for a few months, and I'm also still figuring things out!

#asks #kieraplaysthesims #long post #what a surprise! this writer can't shut up about writing!

[bettsfic]

Betts,

Would you be comfortable in showing us what your messy first drafts look like? Not for a whole story but maybe an excerpt and noting how it changed in revisions. I’ve been looking for first drafts by writers and either found they look almost identical to finish printed version or I can’t find them at all.

i can show you what a messy first draft looks like but i don't think it'll be very illuminating. for me, the down draft is mostly about developmental work. i'll write ten scenes and the final draft will be chunks from six of them. so on a small scale it looks like i don't do much editing, but big picture i write over twice as much as i end up keeping, and what i keep has usually been completely rewritten. so if i do a side by side comparison of a scene, what you're not seeing is the stuff that didn't make the cut, or all the ways i wrote in the wrong direction for a long time, or the hours of research i had to do for a single detail (an example of which you'll see below).

i wrote an issue of my newsletter about my drafting process, so that might be more helpful. i also answered an ask recently about ways to develop a scene if you're stuck.

unfortunately i don't have the brainwidth to do all the research here, but the new yorker published an early draft of raymond carver's "what we talk about when we talk about love" which as originally called "beginners," and somewhere there's a detailed comparison of the two and the changes his editor, gordon lish, made.

but! you asked to see a draft comparison. so here's a draft comparison.

so this got a little crazy and i ended up making a gdoc for scene 2 so you could see them together. see link at the bottom. conclusion: comparing drafts is very hard and i don't think this probably helps at all but i tried.

"final" draft

these are the first two scenes of a short story i wrote called The Group W Bench. we begin in 1970 and then move into present day-ish. i've bolded the small things that were actually big things, and i'll explain why they were big things at the end.

"final" is in quotes because there is a different final draft of this story that goes in a completely different book.

scene 1: past

They didn’t hand out 4-Fs in St. Louis. Supposedly it was the worst draft office in the country. I didn’t know anyone who’d gotten out of it, but in my hometown they didn’t seem to want to. Most everyone was proud and eager to get shipped off.

My number was 66 and it’d been pulled just after I turned nineteen. On the bus to the induction center, I tried to come up with a plan. My only options seemed to be mutilating myself or flat-out running. I was too much of a coward for the former and I couldn’t wrap my head around the latter. There were only a dozen of us on the bus and I had my whole seat to myself. Out the window, cornfields blurred past; it was August and the stalks were head-high. I tried to imagine myself out in the jungle holding an M16, but I couldn’t. I’d graduated high school with a C-average, only kissed one girl one time, was raised by parents who’d had no parents of their own. My mother grew up in an orphanage. My father rode the rails. They fucked up my brother Tommy, did a little better with Wyatt, but by the time I came along, they’d given up. Sometimes I felt feral, raised by wolves.

Across the aisle, a guy was playing the harmonica. He had shaggy black hair and stubble around his jaw, big nose bent at the bridge. He caught me staring at him and I looked away quickly. He crossed the aisle and sat beside me. 

“You look like you don’t want to be here,” he said.

He didn’t sound like he was from Missouri. He sounded like an actor on TV, all hard Rs and round vowels. I didn’t respond to him. For all I knew he was a plant, some kind of spy trained to sniff out potential defectors.

He ran his thumb over the shiny surface of the harmonica. The movement reflected the sun into my eyes. “Buddy of mine got his arm blown off.”

“My brother died,” I told him. I’d been the one to answer the door that day. I was only sixteen and the boy who delivered the telegram couldn’t have been much older. He handed it over, touched the brim of his hat, and said, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

There were no remains. Nothing to bury. Just a bit of yellow cardstock telling me Tommy was dead.

“Sorry to hear that, man.” He held out his hand. “Jack Ward.”

I shook it. “Birdie Mills.”

Jack smiled, a deep dimple carved into each cheek. “Hell of a name, Birdie Mills. Where you from?”

“Here. Couple hours north.”

“California. Riverside.”

“What’re you doing here?”

“Just got out of film school. Can’t get student deferment anymore. So I started bouncing around, you know, changing my address. They finally pinned me down.”

I hadn’t thought of that, transferring draft centers, delaying as long as possible hoping the war would finally end. It was a relief to meet someone as reluctant to go as I was. I felt crazy sometimes, surrounded by men who wanted nothing more than to die for their country. I couldn’t imagine loving anything so much I’d be willing to give my life for it.

“You have a plan?” I asked.

“Nope.” We turned into the induction center lot. “I’m gonna wing it.”

early draft

according to my document, i wrote this on november 8, 2022, so almost exactly a year ago. at that time, this was one chapter of a novel that had alternating POVs in third person. i had about 90k of this novel written. which turned into a short story. which turned into a different novel.

scene 1

Birdie’s number was 257 and it was pulled shortly after he turned nineteen. His draft office was in St. Louis, notoriously one of the worst in the country. There were no 4-Fs in St. Louis. He didn’t know a single man who’d gotten out of it, but then again, they didn’t want to. Most everyone in his town was eager and proud to get shipped off. 

On the bus to the induction center, he tried to come up with a plan, but nothing came to him. Out the window, cornfields blurred past; it was August and the stalks were head-high. He tried to imagine himself out in the jungle holding an M16, but he was just a coward from Missouri who graduated high school with a C-average, who had only kissed one girl one time, who was raised by parents who’d had no parents of their own. His mother grew up in an orphanage. His father rode the rails. They fucked up Tommy, did a little better with Wyatt, but by the time Birdie came along, they’d given up. Sometimes he felt feral, raised by wolves.

Across the aisle, a guy was playing the harmonica. Birdie couldn’t pull his eyes away from him. He had shaggy black hair and stubble around his jaw, big nose bent at the bridge. He caught Birdie staring at him and kept his gaze, some recognition in his eyes, and a moment later he was slotting the harmonica into his jacket pocket and coming to sit next to Birdie.

“You look like you don’t want to be here,” the guy said.

Birdie didn’t say anything. For all he knew, the man could be some kind of spy trying to sniff out defectors. 

“Buddy of mine got his arm shot off.”

“My brother died,” Birdie admitted.

“Sorry to hear that, man.” He held out his hand. “Jack Ward.”

Birdie shook it. “Birdie Mills.”

Jack smiled, a deep dimple carved into each cheek. “Quite a name, Birdie Mills. Where you from?”

“Here,” Birdie said. “Couple hours north.”

“California. Riverside,” Jack offered. 

“What are you doing here?”

“Just got out of film school. Can’t get student deferment anymore. So I started bouncing around, you know, changing my address. They finally pinned me down.”

Birdie hadn’t thought of that, transferring draft centers, delaying as long as possible hoping the war would finally end. It was a relief to meet someone as reluctant to go as he was. He felt crazy sometimes, surrounded by men who wanted nothing more than to die for their country. 

“You have a plan?” Birdie asked.

“Nope,” Jack said, pulling his harmonica back out. They were turning into the induction center lot. “I’m gonna wing it.”

changes and why i made them

lotto number 257 was pulled in 1970 but only numbers under 125 were drafted. it took an entire afternoon to figure out how the selective service lotto even worked.

turning this into a short story, the sentence "They didn’t hand out 4-Fs in St. Louis" was a stronger opening.

as a chapter in a book, at this point the reader is familiar with birdie and knows him only as a scoundrel-type character seen from the perspective of his son who despises him, and his daughter who reveres him. so in the old version, it was satisfying (or intended to be) to get to his POV and see him from his own perspective. as a short story, i tried to organize the opening in such a way that you get grounded pretty quickly and see birdie as a scared kid before you get to the scoundrel days (see below).

the brief "my brother died" flashback was the first part i wrote in his POV, and that was back when the structure of the narrative was a series of short, titled vignettes. so on one hand i was glad i got to keep it but sad i had to shoehorn it into a different scene instead of allowing it to open the piece.

the novel was written in third person but when i tackled it as a short story i decided to change it to first person because i like first person better, and birdie is a very fun narrator.

the "I couldn't imagine..." sentence was added in the short story version because in the present timeline, birdie's about to get shot to save his daughter while they're robbing a bank together. so in one sentence, i managed to condense an arc that before took a VERY long time to establish.

this got kind of out of hand. i tried to do the same thing with scene 2 but it was hard in the text window so i did it side by side in a google document. if you want, you can add comments asking why i did certain things and i'll answer you there. i'm sure i missed stuff.

sorry if this isn't helpful!

#writing advice #bk #rabbit's blood #revision

[zyrafowe-sny]

Thanks for the tag, @grey-automa!

EDIT: I think @violet-prism-creatively also tagged me in this a very long time ago (had to do some digging in my Tumblr notifications).

were you named/named yourself after anyone?

My middle name is my maternal grandmother's first name. All of her children (my uncle included) had her first name as their middle name, and a good chunk of her grandkids do too.

when was the last time you cried?

A few months back when I was visiting a place I knew I wouldn't return to again in a while - I was a combination of extremely overheated, hormonal, frustrated with people with me, nostalgic, and overcome by the passage of time. I don't think I cry all that often, but enough happened to stack at once that it came out as tears.

do you have kids?

I have roommates who are significantly shorter and younger than me.

do you use sarcasm a lot?

Never ever

what's the first thing you notice about people?

This feels like a question Spencer Tracy asked Katharine Hepburn in Desk Set.

Uhh... rough relative height/age? whether they are trying to actively engage with me or are just going about their day?

what's your eye colour?

dark brown

any special talents?

I can read non-technical English with solid comprehension faster than most people I've encountered (back in high school, I could read the same short story twice in the time we were given in class to read it once, and I always need to wait for my partner to catch up when we're reading the same thing).

scary movies or happy endings?

Happy endings, I guess? Not a big fan of scary movies.

where were you born?

about an hour from where my parents lived because they were paranoid and wanted a bigger hospital (my mom was considered old for a first-time mom at *gasp* 30 and they had trouble getting pregnant)

what are your hobbies?

I got back into writing fanfic after a long hiatus (thanks to Thanks to Them). I also sing in a community choir. There was a stretch when I was a little more outdoorsy (though never hardcore), but that's scaled back substantially.

have any pets?

Don't feel up for the responsibility right now. Maybe someday - my living situation is more pet friendly than it used to be - but I'm already drowning in home stuff and don't think a pet would help.

I did have a dog as a kid, but he passed away fairly young when I was in middle school.

what sport do you play/have you played?

I did marching band all through high school, if that counts. I like to ski but it's expensive and a 3-5 hour drive in reasonable weather. I don't ice skate nearly as much as I probably could/should (not sure where my skates are). My partner and I took some sea kayaking lessons once upon a time and I'd like to try that again, but it's not cheap and would be hard to fit in our schedules.

how tall are you?

5'7"

favourite subject at school?

That all depends so much on the teacher and exact class. I really enjoyed my high school physics/AP Physics teacher and even considered a major in physics/astro along with a social science major (am a hopeless generalist), but really didn't like my professors or classmates in college. (I have any regrets that I didn't push through because I like the notion of more women in STEM, but oh well.)

My favorite class as an undergrad was probably anthro of food - it had interesting readings and I got to interview people for a research paper (probably my favorite college assignment).

In grad school, I took a great class on human rights that's colored how I see many policy issues.

dream job?

I wish I knew.

I like: being useful, asking questions, figuring out answers to questions/analyzing things, figuring out how to best communicate answers to things, switching between more quantitative and qualitative work, being able to be just the right amount of stimulated between the work itself and/or any background media, being able to body double (I do well with cubicles/shared offices and less well when I'm in a room by myself), working more on deliverables than project/people management and presenting, and getting several-hour blocks when I'm allowed to just focus and only be interrupted by the most urgent fires.

I might have burned out badly in a past job when also going through some other personal stuff.

I'll be job hunting for the first time in a while probably inside the next year, and am dreading it.

no pressure tagging: @abstract-moth @thegrimshapeofyoursmile @enigma-the-mysterious/@sir-ballister-boldheart @childlikegoblinqueen @sercezgazety

And of course anyone else who wants to.

I turned off reblogs because some of this information approaches personally identifying, but feel free to copy-paste the questions into your own post!

#thanks for the tag!

[amynchan]

idk how many of you guys use word for your fanfics, but here is an Editing Hack you can use on Word! Pictures and explanation below!

Go to File and click it

Go to 'Options' and click it

Go to 'Customize Ribbon' and click it

Go to the 'Choose Commands From' dropdown list and select 'All Commands'

Scroll down until you find 'Speak'

Under 'Customize the Ribbon,' scroll down until you find 'Developer'

Click the little arrow and the checkbox next to 'Developer,' then click 'New Group'

A New Group will appear (you can rename it by hitting the 'Rename' button.)

Make sure 'Speak' is selected on the left and your New Group is selected on the right. Then, click 'Add'

Once you've done this, click 'Ok'

Click the newly created 'Developer' tab at the top of the screen

Find the 'Speak' tool at the rightmost part of the tab

Explanation!! I have a hard time reading for errors. I read for content, and there will be times that I miss things in my own writing. My brain likes to use shortcuts to make sure I see what I want to see, and that doesn't always make for great editing practices. SO! I make my computer read my fanfictions out loud to me so I can catch errors easier. I'll select a chunk of text at a time, have my computer read it to me, and edit as I go along. It's been SUPER helpful in finding many typos.

Plus, it's also just silly to make word read fanfiction out loud to me. XD it's the free version of a podfic!

But yeah. Listen to your fic to edit it. Or your essay. You'll find so many more errors you might have missed before.

#Essay Tips #Word #Microsoft Word #hack #writing tip #edit #editing #good luck out there

[thecontentgeekofficial]

AI content generation: free ai content generation tools creator needs

What is AI content generation? You go to a site, enter details of the script (for a blog, social media, youtube), and get your ai generated content within a minute. Post it on the desired platform and repeat. What is AI content generation tool? They are a great way for content creators to take advantage of AI to create ai generated content. Why ai generated content? It helps automate, streamline, and accelerate the creation process while still keeping the human touch. AI content tools have the potential to change the media industry in numerous ways. Content creators who leverage artificial intelligence can create more engaging digital ai generated content and use fewer resources to do so. These AI content generation tools provide tailored solutions for everything from topic discovery to automated story development, saving you time and effort along the way. Even little things like coming up with catchy headlines or finding relevant images can be tricky when you have so much to consider. Whether you’re creating blog posts, videos, images, content for social media, or some other type of digital content, you can try AI content generator tools to see the magic. Here are the free ai content generation tools, that I have been using, and trust me, it is fun. Why do we need AI content generation tools? Time management. The best part is, that it follows the same process that we follow. The worst part, for now, is, that it requires a human touch for a better user experience. What do we content creators do first? Let's keep SEO aside. Wordsmith Tools Word-smithing is the art of creating high-quality content. Wordsmithing, like content creation, requires a variety of skills. First, you need to research your topic thoroughly. Then, you need to organize all of this information into a coherent narrative that flows naturally. Additionally, you need to use specific writing techniques to engage your audience and spark interest in your topic. To achieve this, you need to have a strong grasp of the English language. With that being said, modern content creators needn’t worry because artificial intelligence can assist them in word-smithing too. Here are some AI content generation tools for word-smithing: - Eassaybot - Automated Essay Generator - WordSwipe Summarization Tools Summarization is the process of condensing large amounts of information into smaller, more digestible chunks. Good summarization tools will identify the main points of a text and create a summary based on these points. For example, your original article may be 5,000 words long. A high-quality summarization tool will create a summary of your article that is between 300 and 500 words long. The best summary tools use AI to analyze the content of an article and determine which points need to be included in the summary. To find a summarization tool that uses AI, look for a service that has a “machine learning” or “AI-based” option. - Quilbot - Tools 4 noobs - TLDR This AI content generation- done and the next step is, finding relevant images. Creating unique images, like memes, an edit of a unique kind. Image generation tools Image generator from the text: write a text, sleepover, abracadabra, here it is, your unique image. - Nightcafe.studio : ai image generator from text free - Generated.photos: free face generator Most advanced, - Deepai.org - Imagen: Google AI image generator - Openai's DALL.E Image creation tools You have an image and minor edits, a collage, or just adding text would do wonders. Why shouldn’t you? - Canva is the best. - Adobe Creative Cloud - Pablo by Buffer - Desygner - Snappa Image Recognition Tools These tools identify the images included in a digital piece of content and provide information about these images. Image recognition tools are beneficial for bloggers who want to illustrate their articles with relevant images. To find an image recognition tool that uses AI, you’ll want to select a service that also provides visual recognition. Visual recognition is the process of analyzing the visual elements of an image. Here we have listed a few commonly used best ai tools for Image Recognition: - Google Lens - AIPoly Vision - Cam Find - TapTap See What is the best image recognition tool Online? - BioID - Google Reverse Image - Small SEO tools image search AI-Based Blogging Tools AI-based blogging tools use artificial intelligence to help you create blog posts. These tools will ask you a few questions about your article and then generate a draft of your article based on your responses. The best AI-based blogging tools will also have an option that allows you to “teach” the tool how you write your articles. This will allow the tool to generate drafts of your articles even faster.

Here are some AI Blogging tools: - Blog to social- automate sharing of blogpost to all social media platforms - Hubspot Blog Topic Generator - Heading checker - Keywords finder - Grammarly - ai content writer tools (you will get a detailed list at the end of the post) For SEO You may also try these, ai SEO tools, on your website for improved SEO. It’s a proven fact that when applied to content creation, AI can turn a good post into a great one by effortlessly adding a bonus layer like SEO optimization. - DIIB: AI-powered SEO Tool (it's amazing) - Rank math’s Content AI: SEO content optimizer a WordPress Plugin Video Creation and Editing Tools Creating videos can be a complicated process. From sourcing sound clips to finding or creating relevant images, there is a lot to consider. Fortunately, artificial intelligence can make the video creation process simpler. You can use AI-based video creation tools to generate an outline for your video based on your keyword research or topic. These tools will ask you a few questions about your video and will then generate an outline for your video. You can then use this outline to guide your video creation process. Video editing tools also make use of AI. Text to video. AI-based video creation tools - Lumen5 - Veed.io - Invideo.io - typito.com - and many. Voice Recognition and Conversion Tools Voice recognition and conversion tools allow you to write content using your voice. This is particularly helpful for individuals who are unable to type due to disability. Google Docs is the best free tool. There are also AI-based voice creation tools that help in creating a voice-over from the text you offer. Animaker or more advanced descript, I use both for my youtube channels.

Personal review of AI content creation

Creating high-quality content is a lot of work. You need to; research your topic through the best free ai tools, organize all of this information into a coherent narrative, and use specific writing techniques to engage your audience. However, modern content creators have access to the Best AI content generation tools that help content creators by using artificial intelligence to assist them in their daily tasks. Content creators are often asked to produce more output with fewer resources. In this challenging environment, ai content generation tools can simplify their work and automate repetitive processes. Artificial intelligence content creation tools are in the rise for several years now. Here is a list of- free ai writing tools to get richer ai generated content  

best free ai content generator, ai content writer for ai content creation free - RYTR - SIMPLIFIED - SMART COPY BY UNBOUNCE - CONTENTBOT — ADVANCED AI WRITER - Copy AI: FREE AI CONTENT GENERATOR - Smodin . io - Farse. io - Zyro - Heyfriday. Ai - INK: Free Web Content SEO Editor - Writesonic - AI Writer - Hyperwrite - Long Shot TBH, keep an eye on ai content generation tools in the future. Why shouldn't you try free ai tools for content creation? Reserve your writing prowess for something more creative. The future is crazy, I know it. FAQs What is AI content generation?You go to a site, enter details of the script (for a blog, social media, youtube), and get your ai generated content within a minute. Post it on the desired platform and repeat. What are content creation tools?They are a great way for content creators to take advantage of AI to create ai generated content. Why ai generated content?It helps automate, streamline, and accelerate the creation process while keeping the human touch. What are the tools of ai? There are platforms that let us, the common man, use AI for our respective needs. There is a need to write a copy, there is an ai tool that let us write it. There is a need to create a video instantly, there is an AI tool that creates a video within minutes. There is a need for voice-over, there is an AI tool that lets it be done as soon as you type the text. We could use AI tools, to write content, create a voice, and create a video from both. Easy life. ai tools examplesLumen5 is an example of a video creation AI tool. Ink is an example of an AI content generation tool. Likewise, DALL E and Imagen are examples of image creation tools. Where AI Content Does Work? For product descriptions at scale. For meta descriptions at scale. Sports results broadcasting. To support a writer’s productivity. Where AI Content Doesn’t Work? Producing well-researched content. Creating data-driven content. Having innovative and fresh ideas. Thought leadership. Will AI Take Over Content Creation?Depends. If content creators are bloggers, it will. AI can write content better than human bloggers that can rank faster and accordingly to SERPs. How could we differentiate between AI and Human written?Fact and research-based posts with a simplified approach are Human written pieces. AI could give us crisp, binge content, with to-the-point accuracy. Read the full article

#aicontentgeneration #AIforBlogging

[mypoisonedvine]

Love, Theoretically | Sebastian Stan x reader (chapter 10 - FINALE)

series masterlist

series summary: having lost your husband, sister, and best friend all to the same extramarital affair, you ran away to a secluded villa in the Hungarian countryside to write and get a little time away from the life you’d left behind.  you were only looking for peace and perhaps some inspiration for your novel, but instead you found an unlikely connection with the immigrant repairman– even though the two of you don’t speak the same language.

word count: 6k

warnings: implied smut, angst, fluff, romcom tropes, lots of swearing, pregnancy mention/minor breeding kink

note: click the asterisk for a hyperlink to a translation when the time comes

Six months later...

“It’s good!” she beamed, setting down the last chunk of pages and taking off her reading glasses. “Oh man, that ending hurt, but it’s really, really good!”

You leaned back into the plush chair and sighed with relief. “You think so?”

“It’s best-seller material,” she assured. “With some editing, of course. God, I can’t believe you were sitting on this for so long.”

“What are the biggest changes you want to make?” you asked.

“Well, I’m thinking we’ll cut the romantic subplot,” she mentioned in passing, like it was no big deal. “It’s distracting.

“Distracing?” you repeated. “Nia, it’s the story. It’s a romance.”

“I thought it was a thriller,” she frowned.

“A romance disguised as a thriller,” you corrected.

“Listen, I get what you mean, but I didn’t get this—” she tapped the nameplate on her desk: ‘NIA BROWN, HEAD PUBLISHER’ in shiny letters— “for nothing. I know what I’m talking about, and I know what your readers want. Violence, gore, drama!”

“It has all that!” you defended. “But it’s all there to talk about the real love he finds in her!”

“What do you mean ‘real love’?” she pressed flatly.

“I mean…” you pondered. “I mean love where you feel like a version of yourself that you actually like. Love where you feel unjudged, no precedents or caveats or back-up plans. Love that fucking hurts because you never wanted to rely on anything or anybody. Love that lives in silence because you don’t even need words.”

She furrowed her brow. “That… sounds nice, I guess, but I don’t think anybody really has that. Everybody needs a back-up plan. Everybody needs words— a writer should know that.”

“Oh my god. Oh my god,” you groaned, your face falling into your hands. “I’m so fucking stupid. Jesus Christ, I’m a moron.”

“What? What’s going on?”

“I had that! I had that, and I let it go! I’m the dumbest bitch on the fucking face of the Earth.”

“Don’t say that,” she soothed, but you were already standing up.

“No, I need to find him,” you decided as you grabbed your coat and briefcase. “I need to go back and try to fix this. I love him, I’ve never— I didn’t know I could love like that, I didn’t know I could be loved like that… oh my god, I need to find him. It isn’t over.”

“It isn’t over?” she repeated incredulously. “You said Michael signed the papers!”

“It’s not Michael,” you rolled your eyes as you stormed out of the office. “It was never Michael.”

You ran into the first telephone box you could find, slamming the door shut as you searched your purse for the business card that probably wasn't even in there.

After a moment, you gasped with delight when you pulled it from a very bottom pocket and began punching in the number as fast as possible with shivering hands, long-distance charges be damned.

“Hello?” the confused voice on the other end answered.

“Mrs. Alberti, hi— does Sebastian still work for you?” you asked hastily.

“No, dear," she sighed, apparently recognizing you by just your voice (and likely your request), "he quit recently, and moved away.”

“Moved?" you repeated with a wrinkled brow. "Where?!”

“I assume back home, sweetheart; to Bucharest.”

“Shit,” you sighed. “Shit!”

“Are you having your ‘run through the airport’ moment, sweetheart?” she realized.

“Yes, I think so— do you have his address?”

“Well, no, but I’ll see what I can find.”

You waited rather impatiently as she shuffled through papers in the background, mumbling to herself as she apparently searched for information that could help you.

“All I’ve got is the address of a previous employer… a carpenter,” she finally explained, breaking the silence. “It was his only reference when he came to work here," she explained.

"Wow, you really did just hire him for his looks," you blurted out.

"He was desperate for work, that boy had nowhere else to go,” she defended.

“Right, well, I guess if that’s my only lead then I’ve gotta go for it,” you decided. “Thank you, Mrs. Alberti.”

“I told you to call me when that book was a hit. Did it happen yet?” she piped up.

“It’s not published yet,” you explained. “It needs some more work… but I think it’s almost ready.”

“I think so, too, dear.”

Learn Romanian in 10 Weeks! A practical language guide.

Week 1, Day 1: Greetings

Hello                      Salut

Goodbye                La revedere

Thank you              Mulțumesc

You’re welcome      Cu plăcere

Good morning         Bună dimineata

Good afternoon       Bună ziua

Good evening          Bună seara

Good night               Noapte bună

You brushed your hair back out of your face with a sigh, turning the page as you mumbled the phrases to yourself. Broken Hungarian and your high school education in Latin were not getting you as far with this as you had been hoping.

How are you?          Ce mai faci

I love you                 Te iubesc

“Te iubesc, te iubesc, te iubesc,” you repeated over and over in a whisper.

Each day you had a new routine: practice Romanian for an hour, check flight prices online (or call the airline), research what you knew about Sebastian and the address Mrs. Alberti had given you, and then get back to practicing Romanian again.

Oh, and occasionally you worked on the edits Nia wanted for your manuscript. You were focusing on the minor changes— grammar errors, rearranging sentences— and putting off her big request for the removal and replacement of the romantic aspects. More than ever, they seemed like the most important thing the book had to offer.

You had a small apartment, just a place to sleep and shower really; much too small to fit everything you’d already taken from Michael’s house (you know, the one that used to be your house) along with what he’d shipped to you that you forgot before. He included a letter in the package as well. You threw it out, unopened.

Truthfully, you never really fully unpacked. As much as you realized you probably should, in order to really feel like you had a real home, you couldn’t bring yourself to empty your suitcases when you knew you’d be packing them again any day now.

You also realized how outrageous this all was. Ignoring the unlikelihood of even finding him in the first place, Sebastian probably wouldn’t want anything to do with you after you broke his heart, left, and then randomly tracked him down after over half a year. But to be totally transparent, you weren’t really doing this to get him back, necessarily. You knew that was probably never going to happen. You were doing this because you needed to try. You needed to go there, and get hurt, and come back knowing you did everything you could: you’d never be able to live with yourself if you did anything less than that.

You couldn’t start your new life until you had put everything else to bed. And if that meant being 100%, painfully certain that you and Sebastian could never be together, then that was just how it needed to be.

After two weeks of looking, there still weren’t any reasonable flights to Bucharest, so you booked another trip by train, figuring you could use the three day trip to brush up on the key Romanian phrases you were going to need as well as prepare your speech.

Yes, your plan was a speech. You didn’t have a back-up plan. You didn’t even have a return ticket back to London yet.

A passage by Yeats came to mind; But I, being poor, have only my dreams. I have spread my dreams under your feet. Tread softly, because you tread on my dreams.

In all your life, you’d never understood before why someone would want to only have their dreams. But now, here you were… and yes, it felt terrifying and vulnerable and uncomfortably naked, but it felt pretty damn good, too.

With a sigh, you scribbled out the last sentence you’d written, tossing the trash paper aside. You looked up out the window at the scenery flying by in a blur, worried that if you didn’t look out from the train every once in a while you’d get motion sickness.

The sun was beginning to set already, the green of hills and trees tinted orange. You only indulged in it for a moment, though, before getting back to this god-forsaken speech you were deadset on finishing before you arrived in Bucharest tomorrow. At first, you’d figured the translating would be the most difficult part… but writing in English wasn’t exactly a piece of cake, either. You had so much to say, and suddenly so few words for any of it.

You’d probably done more editing on this than any of your novels combined; the crumpled up pages spilling out of your wastebasket were proof enough of that.

“And I’m a fucking writer!” you groaned aloud, to no one in particular. “How is anybody else supposed to be able to do this, if I can’t?”

Other people aren’t as emotionally constipated as you, the voice of your inner critic reminded you plainly, making you roll your eyes at yourself.

A rap at your door made you sit up straighter and turn around. A stewardess slid open the frosted glass slightly to give you a friendly smile. “Is everything alright, ma’am?”

Your brows furrowed at the sound of her accent. “Is that a Romanian accent?” you asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” she nodded.

“So you’re fluent in Romanian and English,” you concluded.

“And Portuguese, yes ma’am,” she agreed.

“Could you come in here for a moment and help me translate something?”

She seemed slightly confused at the request but stepped forward, sliding the door most of the way shut behind her. Leaning beside you on the desk, she picked up your handwritten letter and blinked her wide, brown eyes a few times. You felt slightly embarrassed knowing she was reading such intimate thoughts, but that was how it felt the first time someone read anything you wrote so you were pretty much used to it by now.

“I usually ask the passengers what brings them to Bucharest,” she mumbled after a moment. “This is the most interesting thing so far. Am I reading this correctly, that you intend to confess your love to someone you met—” she scanned the page quickly— “during a vacation in Hungary?”

“Yup,” you smiled awkwardly, popping the ‘p’ at the end of the word.

“And he doesn’t speak English?” she assumed; you nodded. “And… you don’t speak Romanian?”

You nodded again, and she breathed in and out quickly, sitting beside you as she stared at the letter.

“I’ve never seen anything like this before,” she explained.

“Sorry for sucking you into the entropic vortex that is my life,” you chuckled.

“I don’t mean to pry,” she sighed, setting the letter down, and you laughed a little internally at the idea that she was worried about prying when she just read the most personal piece of writing you’d ever put to the page, “but do you think this is… enough? I mean, to build a relationship on?”

You just gave her a shrug. “I have no idea. But, you know, I spent my whole life worrying about stuff like that. I dated my husband for seven years before we got married, because I wanted to be sure. I was initially interested in him because he was successful and ambitious, and it made me feel like this was a really secure relationship that I could rely on. I double majored in English and Computer Science because I wanted a more stable career to fall back on in case being a writer didn’t work out, and even though it did, I’ve spent most of my career publishing what I thought people wanted to read instead of what I wanted to write, so I’d have a better shot at a good paycheck. I grew up thinking the best thing I could ever have was security. And now I’m divorced, watching my royalties shrink every month, more insecure in every way than I’ve ever been, and I’m realizing that the choices I made didn’t give me what I wanted. I gave up so much in the name of safety, and I let the one good thing I’d ever found go, so I could go back to being the same person I always was. I’m ready to settle again, if this doesn’t work… I’m ready to accept that this is just the way life goes, and be thankful that I got a taste of the kind of stuff I thought only existed in the sort of books I’d read but never write.”

She swallowed as she looked at you, and you felt your eyes water as you stared out the window towards the dimming scenery one more time, smiling at the sight of a distant village, a church with a steeple, vineyards and farms. Someone’s whole life is in that little town, you imagined, and they’re just watching your train go by like they see every other day.

“Sebastian gave me more security than I’d ever had before, even though the whole thing was such a ridiculous little whirlwind, and nothing like I ever imagined my life could be. But he made me want to be honest and raw and write sappy letters like the one you just read. He doesn’t have any money, at least as far as I know, and I haven’t known him for seven years, and on paper it makes no sense… but you would understand if you knew him. If you felt that joy that he radiates, if you saw him live his simple little life like it’s the best thing in the world. You would understand if you knew how much I needed this. You would understand if you had been just as miserable being who I’ve been for so long, and finally had a chance to be somebody you think you were maybe meant to be the whole time. So, if I never see him again, I hope I just get to thank him.”

You waited for her to say something, but furrowed your brow at the long moment of silence, looking back from the window finally and finding her staring at you with a tear running down her cheek. When you met her gaze, she quickly wiped it away with a sniffle and looked down at your desk again. “Let’s get to translating, shall we?” she announced with a half-smile.

You noticed the way the other passengers looked at you as everyone was in line to deboard from the train car; you stuck out like a sore thumb, since everybody else was carrying heavy luggage and all you had was a backpack.

In your defense, you really had no idea how to pack for a trip where you knew neither the duration nor the true final destination. So, it was mainly filled with your essentials, a few clothes for any kind of weather, and enough leu to buy anything else you needed along the way.

The stewardess was waving goodbye to everyone as they shuffled out into the train station, occasionally stopping to shake a hand or give directions to nearby destinations. When you were just about to pass by, though, she pulled you into a tight hug.

“Good luck,” she whispered, holding you just a moment too long before pulling back and giving you an encouraging look. “If he doesn’t take you back, feel free to blame my translation… because if he knows what’s in your heart, I know he’ll say yes.”

“Yeah, that’s the hard part isn’t it?” you laughed weakly. “Thank you for your help. I guess if I come back alone for the return trip tonight, you’ll know how bad it went.”

“Then I hope I don’t see you again,” she winked.

It being a major train station and all, cabs were waiting around every corner so it was pretty easy to grab one and give them the address you already had written down for this exact purpose.

“This is pretty far,” the driver explained, “on the edge of town. Not a tourist spot.”

“Good, because I’m not a tourist,” you nodded, already only giving him half your attention as you pulled out the translated speech to practice.

“And you can afford this?” he pressed. You sighed and dug through your bag, pulling out a haphazard stack of bills and handing them through the plastic partition.

“Is this enough?” you asked, and he didn’t answer, just taking the money and starting the car as you smiled and leaned back in your seat.

As much as you had tried to convince yourself to not get your hopes up, the butterflies in your stomach felt more like whole birds at this point, demanding to break free as you practiced the words hand-written on the page over and over again, committing it all to memory.

“What are you reading?” the cab driver asked after several minutes.

“Oh, nothing,” you mumbled, “sorry if I’m bothering you, you can turn on the radio.”

“No, it’s not bothering me, but what you are saying… it’s very odd. It sounds like something from a play, or movie,” he explained.

“Um, it’s not,” you replied, a little embarrassed. “But does it sound like it’s from a good movie? Like, if you heard a character say this to another character, would you think they should get together?”

“I… don’t know,” he answered, sounding confused. “I mean, it depends on what happened, right? How they met, how well they get along…”

So, you told him the whole story, as succinctly as possible (which is not very succinct at all). By the end, he was actually giving commentary as you spoke.

“Why the hell did you leave?” he interjected, clearly irritated with you. “You loved him!”

“Yeah, well, sometimes love isn’t enough! I loved my husband too, and look how that turned out,” you defended.

“But that’s different. That was love for all the wrong reasons.”

“I promise, it felt very real at the time,” you shrugged.

“And now?” he countered. “You realize that this man— Sebastian, right?— is real.”

“I hope I’m right this time,” you offered. “But even if I am, he may not agree.”

The driver scoffed, taking a hand off the wheel to wave dismissively. “If he’s anything like you said, then he will still be completely in love with you. After all, you still feel the same way after all this time apart, don’t you?”

“If anything, I love him more every day,” you admitted, your heart beating quickly just to say it aloud.

“You know, when I met my wife, she was engaged to another man. He was rich, good-looking, and he wasn’t even a bad guy unlike this husband you describe. He was a good man, but he wasn’t right for her. They were… content together, but she wasn’t truly happy. Every night I would come to her window and beg her to marry me, because I knew that she knew we were meant for each other, but she was scared because her family wouldn’t approve and she would be a poor man’s wife.”

“How did you convince her to marry you instead?” you asked eagerly, sucked into the story already.

“I didn’t. On the day of the wedding, some people told me to go and break it up but I didn’t. I thought it would be wrong, to try to ruin her happiness and take it for myself by making a scene at the wedding. I realized she was her own woman and if she wanted to choose him, I had to let her. I had locked myself in my house, not wanting to see anyone that day, and she appeared at my door. I didn’t need to convince her because she knew the truth in her heart, and called off the wedding herself.”

“Wow,” you smiled.

“She was still in her dress!” he recalled with a hearty laugh. “She looked like an angel. We were married just a few days later. And next month will be thirty years,” he added as he lifted his left hand to show the golden band on his finger.

“Thirty years, that’s… a long time,” you sighed.

“It wasn’t always easy,” he admitted. “But it was always worth it.”

Just as you wondered what you could possibly say to that, you felt the car slow down to a stop.

“This is the address you gave me, this is it,” he explained, pointing out his passenger-side window. You leaned up against the glass and gasped in dawning fear as you saw the storefront dark and empty inside.

“No, nonono,” you whispered rapidly to yourself as you swung open the door and hopped out, pressing your face against the glass to try to get a look inside and finding what was undeniably a closed carpentry business. There was a note on the door, taped on the inside of the glass, and you knew enough Romanian to know it said something about a vacation and three months.

“Shit!” you yelped, holding your face in your hands, wondering if your journey had come to an end before it really began.

“Are you alright?” the driver asked, rolling down his window to speak to you.

“This was my only lead, I don’t have his real address,” you explained. “He used to work here, I thought maybe someone would know him…”

He sighed, giving you a sympathetic look. “Get back in, we can search nearby. You came too far to give in yet.”

But getting back in the car felt like giving in, too, which you realized as you looked back at the note taped to the carpenter's door. This was the closest you'd gotten, and it felt wasteful to leave with nothing.

Just as you were ready to hop in the passenger seat and start searching aimlessly through suburban Bucharest, or maybe look around for a Romanian yellow pages, you heard a noise from behind you, across the street; a laugh. His laugh. But it couldn’t be because it was too good to be true… and yet you found yourself whipping your head around and hoping beyond all reason that it was Sebastian.

Across the street was a restaurant, with a large patio where patrons were dining and chatting as they sat at wrought iron tables, and your eyes searched the crowd for any signs of him.

And then your gaze landed on a head of thick brunette hair, red and gold highlights so obvious now when the sunlight hit it this way. Broad shoulders wrapped in a white button-up shirt. He was facing away from you but he was looking to the side so you could see his face; he was smiling, laughing at something someone had said. And it was his smile that you recognized; it was like everything else faded away, and in that moment you thought maybe you could almost be happy with just this, just seeing him be happy even if it had nothing to do with you.

“Sebastian,” you called out to him, but he didn’t react. “Sebastian!”

His whole body turned, his eyes met yours, and you couldn't help but let the tears well in your eyes as you ran across the road to him.

He looked, understandably, stunned, and you realized he was actually waiting on a table at the moment; he said something to them, apparently excusing himself, and stepped closer to you.

But he stopped walking, not coming any closer, not exactly dragging you into his arms like you might've preferred, but with a breath to try to soothe your racing mind, you summoned your memories of the practiced letter and began. *

“Când am venit în Ungaria…” you started slowly, doing your best to remember the words and hoping your pronunciation wasn’t too awful, “nu căutam dragoste. Căutam spațiu, claritate și poate o idee de carte de un milion de dolari. În schimb, am găsit tot ce am căutat toată viața mea…”

You did your best to bite back tears, especially when his expression was nearly unreadable and you had no idea how well this was going.

“Ești tu, Sebastian, bineînțeles că ești tu,” you sighed, laughing slightly. “Ai fost acolo pentru mine când nici nu știam ce vreau de la nimeni. Ai fost prietenul meu fără să spui vreodată un cuvânt - cel puțin nu un cuvânt pe care l-am înțeles. M-ai iubit și nu știam ce să fac cu asta, pentru că uitasem cu mult timp în urmă cum se simțea să fii iubit. Și ce simțeai să iubești cu adevărat pe cineva. Dar te iubesc. Și am fost prost să te las să pleci, atât de neconceput de prost. Vreau să fim noi, Sebastian. Lasă-mă să te iubesc, mai dă-mi o șansă și îți promit că nu te voi mai lăsa să pleci niciodată.

The first thing he said was your name, and just the way he said it made you fall in love with him all over again.

“I… I dream that you would come back,” he shakily replied. “But now I cannot believe. You are my dream.”

Tears were openly flowing at this point and you wanted to run into his arms, but you tried to stay calm and hear him out. He stepped closer, almost hesitant, like you would run away if he got too close too fast.

“I love you, very much that I am sure I am insane person,” he explained with a grin, and you giggled. “We will live anywhere, do anything you would like— be my wife.”

You gasped as he pulled you into him, gripping your arms tightly as his desperation became apparent.

“Marry me?” he asked softly.

“Da,” you nodded, “yes, of course, anything—”

He kissed you suddenly, but gently, and it said more than any words in any language could.

It was a small wedding, in the Hungarian countryside by the lake. You could remember diving into that lake for lost pages of your manuscript; you could remember looking out over the water and dreaming of this moment you were living right now, thinking it was impossible.

He didn’t have much family, but they welcomed you with open arms.

Your family, well, they were too busy with planning another wedding, for your ex-husband and your ex-sister. A few of them sent cards but the rest were suspiciously quiet. You honestly didn’t even notice… you had a new family to attend to, anyhow. And it wasn’t like you didn’t have any guests, since you were able to track down and invite a stewardess named Maria, and a cab driver named Andrei and his wife, Paola.

Sebastian’s cousins weaved flowers into your hair and his grandmother tailored her dress to fit you like a glove. A picture of his parents was hung nearby in tribute; he told you they would’ve wanted to see him get married but that he felt, in some way, they were able to even if they had passed away quite some time ago.

You realized you’d never seen him in anything even mildly formal before; in fact, the suit he wore was rather casual, all things considered, but he looked so painfully cute in it. Sometimes you thought he actually looked a bit out of place wearing a shirt, though, especially one that was buttoned up all the way.

Luckily, the shirt was halfway unbuttoned about ten minutes into the reception.

Mrs. Alberti cooked a massive dinner for everyone, and even grew the flowers that you carried down the cobblestone aisle.

And wow, can Romanians drink. You had to be careful not to try to keep up with them, because if you had you would’ve been blacked out halfway into the night and the last thing you wanted was to forget even a moment of this.

As the night started to wind down to a close, you and your new husband retired to the lakehouse, running up the stairs and finding them as creaky as always.

He wrapped his arms around you in the hall and kissed you eagerly as you stumbled back into the bedroom, tripping over the doorway and falling onto the bed together.

It felt so right to have his weight on top of you, to feel his smile against your lips, to wrap your arms around his neck.

“This room,” he mumbled into the kiss. “Do you remember first time?”

“Yes,” you nodded, “da, I remember, how could I forget?”

He grinned and moved his lips down to your neck. "I thought of you every day… I love you,” he whispered.

“Te iubesc,” you whispered back.

It was almost like the first time in so many ways: passionate, yet oddly hesitant as you rediscovered each other. It was comfortable, though… you couldn’t think of any other person you felt so comfortable with, somebody who finally got you out of your own head and who made you want to experience everything life had to offer.

You were sure you’d never gone so long without worrying about something in all your life.

“My wife,” he whispered against your skin. “This is all I had wanted… from seeing you in very beginning.”

“You’re all I ever wanted,” you sighed in return, “ești tot ce mi-am dorit vreodată, Sebastian.”

Life with Sebastian was beautifully simple. You spent most of the day writing, usually, while he built furniture to sell and occasionally gardened with his spare time. You could always tell how busy you’d been with a new novel lately by how perfectly groomed the hydrangea bushes were.

You’d told him once that you’d come to Hungary looking for a million-dollar book idea. A Killer in Disguise performed alright, but not anywhere near that. The Language of Love, on the other hand, was definitely a million-dollar idea… about eleven times over. Sebastian didn’t seem to worry too much about how much money you made, though; he was just proud to say that he was the inspiration for your hit novel. You secretly suspected that he was more proud of your work reaching enough international notoriety to be translated into Romanian.

His English still needed some work, but you found it endearing. He was determined to get better and spent at least a half-hour each day practicing, but you hoped he wouldn’t get too perfect because you would miss the silly little mistakes he made. At least you could be sure he’d keep the accent forever… damn, that accent; and he knew exactly what it did to you, too.

In fact, you were crossing through the hall in your robe one evening when your husband’s voice stopped you.

“Darling wife,” you heard Sebastian call from the bedroom in a playful sing-song.

“What is it, Seba?” you asked with a smirk.

“Come in here, please…”

You opened the bedroom door to find most of the room covered in rose petals: most of all the bed, which was surrounded by candles, and topped with a shirtless (as per usual) Sebastian, laid on his side seductively with a long-stemmed rose (one you recognized from his very own garden) between his teeth.

“What are you doing?” you laughed. “Is this some sort of special occasion I’ve forgotten?”

You were already searching your mind for what it could be, but your two-year anniversary had passed a few months ago already and since it was spring it couldn’t be the anniversary of when you first met since that was late in the summer.

“Iss not quite a thpecial occathion yeth,” he answered before taking the rose from his mouth so he actually made sense. “I was considering it could be a special occasion, when we’re done…”

You smirked and climbed over the candles and into bed with him, taking the opportunity to run your hands over his chest. “And what occasion would that be?”

“A year from now, it could be the anniversary of when our child was conceived,” he answered.

Your breath caught in your throat, your voice reduced to a whisper of surprise. “Seba—”

“If you’re not ready, I will be understand,” he instantly added, stern yet soft. “Only if you want this, I just thought that maybe—”

You silenced him with a kiss, lacing your fingers into his hair and letting him roll you onto your back. He pulled back just enough to let you answer, but your noses were still bumping into each other and you smiled.

“I’m ready, Sebastian. More than ready,” you whispered.

He grinned and kissed you again, deeper and slower as he held your face with one hand and gripped your waist with the other. As his lips trailed down to your neck, you were interrupted with one pressing thought.

“Can I ask you something?”

He popped up and looked down at you with a smile. “Sure!”

“Why are you wearing ratty old jeans?” you laughed.

“Hey, these worked on you the first time,” he defended.

You gasped. “You don’t mean those are the jeans—”

“Yes,” he nodded, “the jeans that I had been wearing when I was working on Mrs. Alberti’s cottage. And, truly, when I was finding an excuse to work outside your window.”

“Wait,” you sat up, “did you actually work outside my window on purpose?”

He laughed, hanging his head quickly before looking back at you again with a sparkle in his eye. “You are very smart, my love, except for those times when you are— how do you say? Oblivious.”

You chuckled, unfortunately very aware that he was right.

“Didn’t you ever wonder why I was building a window frame, nearly a dozen metres away from the window it was for?”

You thought for a moment before dropping your face into your hands and laughing. “No, I didn’t notice that. I was too busy giving you a thorough eye-fuck,” you recalled.

“Yes, because I was not wearing a shirt and this distracted you,” he pondered, sounding suddenly like a scientist explaining a theorem or something. “See, that’s the beauty of wearing the jeans and no shirt. The body distracts you while the jeans seduce you.”

“How about you take the jeans off and put that body on me, capisce?” you pleaded; not that you didn’t love his humor or anything, but maybe his funny bone wasn’t exactly the bone you were interested in at the moment.

He grinned devilishly and suddenly pulled your legs apart, settling his body between them as he kissed your neck again, nipping at your jawline and ear. “You’re being impatient, dragă,” he purred. “You want to have my baby that badly?”

You whined involuntarily, arching your back as his hands roamed your body and finally began to untie your robe and push the silk out of the way. “Yes, Sebastian, please—”

“Let’s just say, theoretically, I wanted to have more than one? Would you have another of my children?” he asked softly as he reached up and palmed at your breasts, teasing your nipples which were already much too hard and sensitive for how little he’d touched you. The rough denim rubbing against the inside of your thighs was oddly arousing— maybe it was the sensation itself, or maybe it was just that this was almost like the first thing you imagined when you saw Sebastian all those years ago.

“Yes,” you moaned out your answer, “yes, you know I’d do anything for you.”

“What if I wanted a big family?” he pressed. “Really big? Like, Catholic big?”

“We can have our own fuckin’ Brady Bunch, Seb, I just need you right now,” you begged, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him into a hot and desperate kiss.

He decided to wait until afterwards to ask what a ‘Brady Bunch’ was. You decided to wait until afterwards to ask when he’d learned how to use the word ‘theoretically’.

sfarsit; the end

#sebastian stan x reader

[glitterge1pen]

You Only Water Plants With Cool Water

Rukawa Kaede x reader, sfw, fluff, word count 1,435

reader is a painter 

Rukawa and you both had practice. Studio sessions, gym time, he needed to go to the store for new basketball shoes, you needed new paper or canvas. He knew when you had had a bad day. When every stroke of pigment was wrong, when you had to change water too many times. You knew when he had messed up his scoring percentages, or when he’d landed a shot not to his liking.

You also had good days though. Ones where you would be electrified, dragging Rukawa to the tiny bedroom studio in the apartment, excited to show him a new piece. He tried to be subtle about sharing his smaller successes with you. Quietly asking to go on a walk to the park on weekend mornings, picking up a basketball before heading out the door.

While Rukawa couldn't exactly understand painting, or art, he did understand you. He saw how hard you worked, the same as him. You too were striving for something. So he lets you ramble on about new art books you had bought, different painters you admired, ones you hated, an art supplies store you wanted to try your luck at. This was also how you understood him. You saw how at home Rukawa watched all the NBA games, kept tabs on different players.

The two of your respective passions consumed lots of your life. Which is why he didn't mind when you had the door to the studio closed when he got home from the gym. You didn't bother him when he was watching a game. He would sleep on the small couch you had tucked in the corner of the studio, the radio giving a play by play of some game. Legs hanging off the arm rest, simply enjoying being in your presence. Some days you would go to his practices, half watching, half sketching out ideas for a new chunk of canvas. This was one of those days.

Looking up from your lap you see that practice is almost over. You set aside your work to focus on Rukawa completely. He really is something else on the court. Brash, aggressive, and still sly. Those parts of Rukawa were the same. The part of him that bluntly told you while out shopping what did look ugly, that way you swore he moved stuff around in the fridge to mess with you, or how he shoulder checked people a little too often. When he was playing basketball it was like the various gears and screws that made up Rukawa were perfectly made to play, like it was the only that life made sense to him. It added something to his outward psyche, a fire of energy that exuded from every pore.

You watch as the team starts to wind down. Shooting from various points on the court, running sprints from one side to the other, to end practice there was a complicated passing drill that you couldn't follow. You were prepared to leave, grab some take out on the way home, but when Rukawa came over to you he flopped onto the bleachers.

“Hey! Come on you can't sleep here”

With a sweat towel covering his face he mumbles,

“I can sleep anywhere, just give me a couple minutes”

But you know with Rukawa that a couple minutes can range from thirty minutes to hours. You pull on his arm trying to get him up, his eyes are stubbornly closed though. You poke, you blow air on his nose, you ruffle his hair and pull on his clothes. When that doesn't work you try threats.

“I won't pay for dinner”

“I was going to pay”

He says, words muffled by the towel. Exasperated you sit back onto the cold bleachers. You reach into a plastic bag you have settled down by your feet. It's from the craft store, new paint, new brushes, you had stopped there on the way to see Rukawa. Cautiously you pull out some paint and let it rest against Rukawa's skin.

“If you don't get up, I’m gonna paint you”

“I dont care”

“Really?”

“Why would I care?”

Before you two had been playful, teasing, but when he asks that he is genuine. Like he couldn't possibly comprehend why that would bother anyone. He has one eye open now, peaking at you, seeing that you are considering it now.

“I don't care, go ahead, just let me sleep”

At first you're still a little apprehensive. You are slow to fill up one of the paper cups from the players bench with the water fountain. You use the colors little by little. Mixing them in the palm of your non dominant hand. You start with his arm. The paint moves differently on his sweat tinted skin and you have to adjust.

Rukawa floats in and out of sleep. Lazily watching your concentrated expression move expertly over him. He likes the way the brushes feel, the cool of the paint. He notes that you're holding his hand differently, it's deliberate, your fingers not laced with his but clasping onto him. You do this so you can twist his arm this way and that. He can see blues and greens mixed onto your own skin in puddles. Then he’s back asleep.

You are no longer paying attention to Rukawa, or the dance group that came to use the gym for practice. You like working here. The gym lights are bright, the AC blasting cold air. You were originally only going to do something small. But now Rukawa's entire right arm has been consumed by paint. You are putting the last few strokes of detail on his arm knowing that you aren't done yet. You are afraid to dab at the paint to see if its dry, you blow on it and Rukawa gives a small smile at the sensation.

You pull the towel off of Rukawa’s head and lay it over his chest, placing his arm there too. You grab your bag of supplies and move to the row of bleachers below Rukawa. His left leg your new target. This is harder for Rukawa to sit through at first. The bristles of the brush more ticklish, but it is soon calming once again. He wants to see what you’ve painted on his arm but his eyes are still so heavy, he so tired.

“Wow you're really good!”

“Thanks! He’s a pretty good canvas!”

Rukawa wakes at the sound of your voice.

“Oh sorry I didn't mean to wake you!”

It must be one of the girls from that dance team he decides.

“It’s okay he sleeps plenty”

You tell the girl, she laughs a little before waving herself away. You're packing up your things, swirling brushes into the cup of water, twisting paint tubes closed. Finally feeling satisfied with his nap, Rukawa slowly gets up. Used to sleeping wherever he pleases the dull ache from the bleachers doesn't bother him much. He rubs the sleep from his eyes and sees it.

You've painted a river. From his right shoulder to his left ankle is a river. Patches of grass and flowers growing along parts of it, stones, clouds, waterfalls, waves of water. It’s dynamic, twisting over the grooves of his muscles. You are surprised at how gentle his fingers move along the outline of the water, tracing it down his whole arm. In between his knuckles the water fades off his hand in droplets. The red flowers a bold contrast to the cool colors of the water. Fish leaping in and out of the water, some not even breaking the blue surface of paint, shadows of warm color beneath the water.

“You like it?”

You ask, he only nods, still admiring your work. You get him off the bleachers, once standing the daze he was in wears off. He grabs his duffle bag and the two of you head out. The night air is refreshing, the sky dark blue but bright like how it is in the summer. The street is still buzzing from the dusk. People on the way home from work, light traffic in the street, store and street lights flickering in the newness of the night.

“I’m sorry”

“Huh?”

You don't know what Rukawa could possibly be apologizing for.

“I’m gonna have to take a shower and the paint will wash off”

“That’s okay I knew that when I did it”

Rukawa seems discontent with this answer but you aren't sure how to help ease him. At the next block Rukawa turns the wrong way.

“Where are you going the-”

“Walgreens”

“What?”

“They have disposable cameras at Walgreens.”

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　

A/N: If someone made a bingo chart of my writing Walgreens would be on it. Will post this on ao3 later today :) Also no :) I did not :) edit this :) 

#kaede rukawa #slam dunk #slam dunk x reader #Kaede Rukawa x reader #gender neutral reader #painter au

[pearlplusau]

Attack of the Multiverse!! (Pink Pearl edition)

“Presenting....a new writing series! Here’s the preview of the entire story! Enjoy and thanks for reading in advance!”

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*que intense chase track

 A pink pearl in her latest crystal gem form, was blindly running into the darkened beach, where everything was pitch black. She couldn’t see the water, she couldn't see the sand, heck, she couldn’t even see the giant temple that should be located somewhere in front of her without any light source!

She couldn’t remember how long she ran, but it was more than her physic could take. As she slowed down, she huffed and puffed, almost wheezing from all the running. 

But her break was cut short when-

A sound of blast came from somewhere behind her, controlling whatever it touched as the torn objects such as floor boards, trash cans, and giant chunks of earth levitating around the enemy figure.

As Coral raced towards the temple, which was finally visible from the bright aura of the floating gem, another figure appeared, stretching out her ballerina leg and tripped the poor pink gem.

“Ooof-“ she exclaimed as she faceplanted into the sand.

 As Coral lifted her head, she saw two figures, no wait…two identical figures!

The closest figure wore the outfit she had before the rebellion, her first ever pearl form, except it's all nastified, torned up and darkened, as if someone drenched her with the colour schemes of an arch villain. Instead of buns for her hair, two shaggy and messy side ponytails wildly danced under the blowing night wind. Under her eyes was a trail of dark ink, making her look more horrifying than she could ever imagine! (She’s abandoned pearl, but let’s go with Crazy)

The other figure looked like the first figure, except she was completely greyscaled. Her entire body radiated absolutely no colour, just the dreadful shades of black and white! Her hair, too, was in a complete mess, but in a mad scientist style, where her hair looked like it was electrocuted, but more neatly and less frizzy. Anger was radiated from her twitching eye and her frozen W pose, the twitching eye was glowing with power, as if it’s holding back the power with what’s happening next!

The two of them both bore a damaged right eye, but resembled no difference to each other, they even look like-

Coral gasped, “No way! You’re…me?” as she pointed to the two Pink pearls, getting more and more confused.

“That’s right!” Crazy Pearl spoke with a raspy voice and some crazy in her eyes. “And now that we finally got you, we’ll take our sweet time to DESTROY YOU!!”

The pearl brought out a wand from her gem, and it immediately extended and sprung  into a deadly, pink, glowing rejuvenator. “Once you’re rejuvenated, you can join my little army, and we’ll destroy the worlds together! Mwahhahahhahahahaha!!”

Coral was only able to whimper out, “worlds?” as the crazy gem wasted no time and brought down her pink glowing scythe!

As Coral braced for rejuvenation, a pink ribbon lashed out and gripped on Crazy pearl’s arm. The scythe was frozen in place, but it was flung aside as Crazy was yanked out of her spot! As the ribbon retreated, another figure slowly came out of its hiding.

“You won’t be destroying anything once I’m done with you!” It’s the same voice as Coral herself, but more confident and sure. The figure had Coral’s face, her hair, her gift from Pink diamond. The more obvious significance was the green dress and the placement of the gem on her forehead. The gem in green shouted, “Earl! You take that freak while I take care of crazy here!”

As soon as she ordered, the sound of a gem retrieving their weapon echoed, “SHING!” with the sound of pistol fire not long after!

Bullets were shot, all flying towards freak pearl, but a metal trash can flew out of nowhere and acted as a shield against the attack. 

Coral saw the shooter come out with angered expression, as if she was annoyed of the constant blockage of her attacks. The shooter looked almost exactly like freak pearl, the only difference was one of them is a bleached floating freak while the other wore a long sleeved silk shirt with a diamond shaped cut around her gem, bright pink shorts with huge pink splatters and spots all over her body. Her grey hair buns had little strays of hair at the end, with far less cracks on her face. Earl also had the same cracked eye, but she’s looking a lot less freaky than her counterpart.  

As the two pearls fought as ballerinas, assassins and shooters simultaneously, the confident pearl grabbed on to Coral and ordered, “Come on! We need to get out of here! That ribbon wont hold her for long!!”

The said ribbon was wrapping up crazy pearl with a neat bow on top, however, she looked like she could break free any moment!

“Hurry!” Coral got up and they both went to help Earl. The confident pearl pointed to the levitating gem and ordered,  “Use your lance and take her down!”

“What!?” Coral questioned in surprise, “isn’t that a bit too much?”

“Trust me, it's not!”

Coral summoned and gripped her lance, aimed at the freaky pearl and threw.

The weapon was barely slapped away with the metal trash can, but that little distraction was able to give Earl the chance to finally strike and take her down!

Earl leaped into the air and performed a 10/10 somersault, she gracefully kicked freak pearl as far as she could! “Smack!”

The knocked pearl made no sound, just the sound of her SPLASH landing into the dark ocean.

Coral immediately took the chance and demanded answers from the two, “Can someone explain what is going on!?”

She looked at Earl, who, instead of speaking, did hand gestures that were clearly sign language, but Coral didn’t get the chance to study them unfortunately…

Confident pink pearl translated, “She’s saying we don’t have much time! Come one, this way!” she pointed to the side of the crystal gem temple. “There's a portal there that should lead us straight to her!”

Coral demanded as they ran, “Her who?!?”

“Coral, do you believe in alternate universes?!” Confident pearl asked.

“I do now! Seeing all of you here! Being literally alternate versions of…ME!”

“Well actually, we’re all alternative versions of the OG Pink Pearl, The original! I’m from a diamond swap universe where White Diamond and Pink diamond swapped places, I’m one of original crystal gems, without White diamonds old pearl.” C!Pearl said as Earl nodded at the side.

Earl made more hand gestures to say something, pointing to herself along with more sign language. C!Pearl translated, “That’s Earl, she’s from another timeline where she… you know what, it’s a long story, all you need to know is that we can trust her!”

“But what about the two we just fought?” Coral demanded. 

“Those two? I call them freaky and crazy! They’ve been after us ever since we started portal jumping! I’m not sure where they’re from, but I’m pretty sure Crazy is from an AU where SHE was abandoned in Pink diamond’s garden instead of Spinel! As for freak pearl, really not sure here. Maybe she’s an interpretation of how powerful she could get under a diamond’s complete influence and power?”

Coral gave another quick question, “How do we know who the original Pink pearl is if we’re all from different timelines?”

“Simple,” C!Pearl said, “she’s the pinkpearl that followed the Canon timeline, where she got controlled by White Diamond and spent 6000 years as her mindless servant! Us, however, were created to avoid that specific timeline, so she’s the root of all Pink Pearl. The most important thing to do right now is to look for the first Pink Pearl!! She’s the only one that can help us get deal with our...situation right now.”

“How are we gonna get there with these two on our tail!??” Coral said as she notices more rubble floating behind her as well as a maniacal laugh echoing louder and louder!

“All we need is to get through that portal! Those two wont be able to catch up! Come one!”

The portal, swirling in pink and white star dust, finally became visible behind one of the temple palms. Within the right distance, all three pearls leaped into the portal as it closed behind them!

Shooooofwop!

End of part ???

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Multiverse Pink pearl series! Next chapter coming in-

The two rogue pink pearls stopped their tracks when they found...no portal, nor any of the pearls they were fighting. 

The two antagonists turned to the camera, made little chuckles and pointed at you, the reader. Crazy teased, “Look what we got here freak pearl, someone that thinks this ISNT an April Fool’s special.”

Freak pearl rotated her floating junk around her until they got to a trash can. She set the trash can on the sand and tapped three times. 

Knock

Knock

Knock

There was a moment of silence and snoring, sounds like someone fell asleep. 

Crazy summoned a speaker phone from her gem, placed it at the side of the can, and screamed, “HEY PEARLPLUSAU WRITER! ITS YOUR QUE!” 

 The writer groggily woke up rubbing his eyes, “Yawnnnn….”

He fell off into the sand. 

“Heyyy there fellow readers, yes this IS an April fool’s special, a friend of mine was curious if i would write one of these and sure enough, once the idea got developed, i got straight to the writing process.”

“What was surprising is using us AU characters into his little joke writing, where are the credits you punk?!” Crazy asked in a rather annoyed tone. 

"Oh that? ” The writer continued," Credits of the characters are below! You can see the images, as well as the title of the AUs. Some of the characters are linked back to the creators tumblr account, while other creators who dont have tumblr accounts are linked to original posts, like from Instagram!! ”

Freak pearl snapped her fingers for the writer’s attention and pointed to herself, asking for her origin. 

“Oh freak pearl? I just thought it would be cool if there’s more than one antagonist for this special, so i kinda created you myself. The idea was, how dangerous can pinkpearl be with a diamond’s ability, and there you are! Telekinesis and mega white laser beams! Pretty cool huh?”

Freak pearl did not respond...well. 

“Anyways,” the writer proceeded, “writing this was a pretty fun 1.5 hours of the time i have, not including reviewing and editing tho. If theres anyone out there that wishes to continue the story in their own way, be my guest. Just let me know so i can read it myself lol, im very interested in your take of the situation! “

April fools! And thanks for reading!

Characters (even though they’re not drawn) 

Coral/Pink pearl from Pearlplusau - Original design by Tripixle!!

Crystal gem Pink pearl from Diamond swap au - Credit to @dreambigstars

Earl from WD steven au - AU character from @ask-whitepearl-and-steven

Crazy pearl (Despair pink pearl), Design from Shrimp.face (Link to their post) 

Freak Pearl, no specific au named, nor from any creator. So i guess she’s my AU character?

A/N: Hope you guys had fun reading as much as i had fun writing it!

Also the real new chapter coming in probs two weeks from now.

Slightly unrelated, there might not be as much visuals as there was last chapter. The drawing pen is a bit busted. 

Till then! Bye!

#suau #pinkpearl #Coral #WD!steven #Spinelpinkpearlswap #diamondswap #stevenuniverse #ohwait #iforgotsmth #april fools #happyapril1st

[itsclydebitches]

RWBY Recaps: Volume 8 “Risk”

Welcome back, everyone! I have a lot of mixed, complicated feelings about today's episode and I'm already sure this recap will miss a great deal that should be said. There's a lot to digest, we need some time to do that, so until things have settled I think that the one, entirely confident claim I can make here is that our writers weren't BSing the fandom on twitter. The last few days have seen a number of big claims made regarding "Risk" —

— and whatever else we might have to say about the episode, it certainly delivered in terms of shocking content. From confessions to reveals to a new plan in place, there's a lot to unpack. 

So let's get started.

Our first shot is a problem. 

I don't want it to be! But I've got to work with what I've got. We open on Salem's flying monkeys — or gorillas, if we're being technical — and my immediate thought is where in the world they came from. I mean, obviously I know where. We ended Volume 6 with the post-credit scene of Salem adding wings to an army of Beringels, Hazel commenting that she'll lead the invasion herself. When Salem arrived at the end of Volume 7 and we picked up where we'd left off in Volume 8, the fandom was obviously expecting an attack led primarily by flying, transformed grimm. That didn't happen. For ten episodes the plot forgot that the Beringels existed, focusing instead of the Hound, the grimm soup, then the Whale, then the ground grimm the Whale was producing. Months back I encountered a number of posts asking, "What happened to the resource we know Salem brought to this fight?" and those questions are partly what inspired the "Introducing new grimm that are then quickly abandoned" spot on the bingo board. Now, suddenly, the Beringels have re-appeared and that is a good thing. Though it's too little, too late, as is so often the case with RWBY. Getting something you expect has a sour taste when it arrives months past when it was needed, especially when that something only exists for a second on screen. 

This is doubly true given that we saw Oscar eliminate the grimm last episode.

At least, I thought he had? Pretty much everyone I've spoken to thought he had. This last week's discussions have centered around RWBY nerfing the stakes, taking out a whole army of grimm in one, magical blast. That's far from great. Yet now we see that we were apparently wrong. Atlas remains overrun with grimm, this problem remains a problem... so, yay? But we're once left with a tradeoff. RWBY has no longer eliminated the stakes with a deus ex machina as we had originally thought, but in its place we're left with a badly executed scene last episode and an assumed problem that is "fixed" with an enemy we should have been dealing with since the start of the volume. The road to the Beringels has been messy indeed and all they've done so far is fly across the screen.

Which reminds me: if this army of grimm still exists — and absolutely existed prior to Oscar's blast — how come not a single one is attacking the Schnee manor? This opening is in Atlas, the skies are overrun, we've seen a few grimm show up to help out the Hound, yet miraculously nothing bothers the group while they freak out at the dining table, or freak out as Penny tries to leave. That's a whole lot of grimm and a whole lot of negativity... yet somehow these two things never meet in a way that would inconvenience our characters. While from a writing standpoint I can understand not wanting to interrupt all these conversations and feel good moments, the show can't simply ignore the rules of its world whenever it's convenient. If anything, given that Atlas' population is currently hidden beneath the city, Schnee manor should be even more of a hot-spot than it normally would be. There is one (1) group of people out in the open for them to target. 

Yeah, we're a single shot into this episode. It's a doozy.

Moving right along, those Atlas citizens (and, let's not forget, a large number of Mantle evacuees too) are still huddled in the tunnels, listening to Ironwood's insane broadcast. They're obviously terrified, as are those down in Mantle who are staring execution in the face. Fiona bursts into tears.

It makes me wonder why we didn't get the airship subplot now. As I've mentioned extensively in the past, that decision didn't make much sense and I think the writers knew it didn't make much sense because they chose not to reveal what Ruby and co. planned to do with the citizens once they were on board. The point was never to come up with a feasible plan, something the audience would put to the test, but rather to just make it seem like the group was doing something Smart and Heroic before Ironwood inevitably derailed it. Don't look too closely at the man behind the curtain. Normally, I'd comment that yes, it's damn hard to come up with a brilliant plan to save others in a situation like this — our characters can only be as smart as our authors! — yet that sympathy dissipates when we hit this episode and are given a scenario where airships would have been great. Ironwood has threatened to nuke Mantle. Suddenly, it is imperative that the civilians leave the safety of the crater as soon as possible (whereas before it was not). So Whitley remembers that they have access to these ships and the group hatches a plan to sneak them down while Ironwood is distracted, get everyone up into Atlas so he can't use Mantle as a bargaining chip anymore. Then they're spotted, the plan revealed, and Ironwood shoots their ships down, leaving them devastated that their attempt to help the citizens has literally gone up in flames. We're still left with the problem of why Ironwood wouldn't just allow a continued evacuation now that Salem is briefly out of the mix and the Schnees have provided extra resources — the writing really took a sledgehammer to his characterization — but the group trying to get people to Atlas to avoid death by bomb at least makes more sense than them trying to move the citizens to an undisclosed location, for unestablished reasons, when they were already relatively safe. The bomb is what makes those airships a necessity.

It really makes me wonder how much editing goes on and how much time the writers have before they finalize scripts.

Regardless, we cut from terrified people to Ironwood himself, accompanied by Winter. The animation has some nice parallels going on here, what with the same black, white, and blue color scheme, hands behind their backs, the need for robotic accommodations, and steps perfectly in synch. As we're about to see though, Winter is very good at looking the part of a loyal soldier while actually bending the rules.

However, are we really going to ignore that she betrayed Ironwood last episode? Betrayal from his perspective, that is. Winter was given a direct order, disobeyed that order, pissed off Harriet in the process, and wasn't able to give a good explanation for her actions — she was too busy being creeped out by Ironwood's reaction. For all intents and purposes she should be considered disloyal right now. Or at least under suspicion, yet Ironwood acts as if everything is fine. We've skipped over any meaningful fallout between them, or a reason why Ironwood would dismiss her betrayal. This ties into something I'll bring up later in the episode: namely, that RWBY introduces too much too quickly and doesn't have time to satisfyingly tackle — or tackle at all — the plot points they've introduced, simply because there's always a new one to focus on. We dropped the "Winter went against Ironwood at great personal risk" plotline to make room for the new "Ironwood has randomly threatened Mantle" plotline, which likewise doesn't do Ironwood's characterization any favors. I don't just mean the obvious "Omg he's willing to murder a whole city now" issue. Ironwood used to be smart, yet his unfounded trust in others makes him look foolish now: first trusting Watts, now Winter. Alongside that, the story and fandom have both pushed the idea that Ironwood is paranoid, yet that "paranoia" has only ever been attached to justified threats. If he were actually paranoid then Winter's actions would have caused him to mistrust all of the Ace Ops now, labeling everyone near him a disloyal enemy, despite evidence to the contrary (especially when it comes to Harriet). Yet across two volumes Ironwood has continually been "paranoid" only in regards to things like Cinder and Salem — proven threats — while simultaneously trusting known villains and ignoring when his subordinates straight up say, "She let our enemies go free." There’s little rhyme or reason to any of his decisions here. 

Still! A nice, meaningful shot lol.

As Ironwood and Winter get closer we see the Ace Ops discussing the threat. "Of course he's not going to do it," to which Marrow pushes back with, "So what? He's bluffing with a whole city?" This is a really, really important moment that I don't think the writers realize is important. See, everyone is shocked when Ironwood reveals that he intends to go through with the threat. The Ace Ops, Winter, Robyn, our heroes... everyone grapples with the idea that this is actually happening. Everyone has some moment of, "It's just a bluff, yeah?" and I don't think that's just denial. The characters' shock tells us that Ironwood normally wouldn't be a man who'd do something like this. Ever. That shock has to stem from something, such as an ingrained understanding that Ironwood is a protector, not a murderer. Note the difference between the fandom and the characters' reactions. Whereas a good chunk of the fandom went, "Of course Ironwood means it. We all saw this coming! Remember how he..." and then proceed to list various things — persuasive or otherwise — that prove he was always a bad guy in the making. Yet no one in the RWBY world is inclined to use those moments as evidence. Winter doesn't go, "He's not bluffing. I saw him shoot the councilman just for speaking up" and the Ace Ops don't go, "Oh, he'll do it. This is the man who destroyed his arm to take down Watts. He'll stop at nothing." After everything they've seen — the same things we've seen — there's still some instinctual, nebulous knowledge that goes, "No. Ironwood wouldn't. He's one of the good guys." We can certainly talk about real life people getting swept up in horrible institutions, unwilling to admit how bad things actually are until they hit a specific line they can't cross... but I think this is less a comment on some sort of bystander effect (RWBY isn't that deliberately nuanced lol) and more an unintentional acknowledgement that until the very sudden and entirely unexpected shooting of Oscar, Ironwood actually wouldn't have done this. The Ace Ops are reacting to a man who absolutely existed until the writing erased him and they believe the core of that man still exists. To my mind, he should, but because our show can't actually have Salem as the main villain right now, she's conveniently blown up and Ironwood takes her place.

So we've got some loaded implications there, as well as Vine's comment that he hopes "the kids" see sense now. I am begging RWBY to pick a lane already. Are they kids, or are they adults? Because that answer makes a big difference and we can't continue to have it both ways.

Ironwood and Winter arrive were Ironwood orders that she prep drones with the "payload." That's the moment Winter and the others realize he's serious. Cue that shock all around. The revelation is the last straw for Marrow, prompting him to start yelling some excellent points about how Ironwood is doing Salem's job for her. See, this accusation works. Telling a guy threatening to blow up a city that he's as bad as their villain is accurate. Having Oscar tell that same guy that he's as bad as their villain because he wants to save a city full of people... is ridiculous. Totally different setup here and RWBY got it right this time. The only line that didn't work for me was Marrow asking the Ace Ops if they believe in anything. Uh... yeah. They believe in saving Atlas + all the Mantle evacuees they got. That's pretty well established. I swear,  most RWBY speeches are padded with generic, heroic-sounding lines that don't actually mean anything, or are outright falsehoods we’re meant to ignore. 

We'll see more of that with renora.

Marrow attempts to leave and his eyes go wide as he hears the click of Ironwood's gun. Remember I said that Winter is good at playing the obedient soldier? It's after Ironwood aims that she tackles Marrow. 

On the surface it looks only like she violently disarmed him, but in reality she got him out of the bullet's path and kept Ironwood from firing at all. She saved his life, choosing to play up how she'll “take this traitor to the brig” where he belongs, rather than watching him die. A really nice moment in terms of strategy and one of the few lately where I've actually felt like I'm watching smart characters.

However, I cannot deny the uncomfortable implications in this scene. Smart or not, necessary or not, it hasn't escaped anyone's notice that one of our darkest characters was a) nearly killed by a white man and b) beat up by a white woman. To say nothing of Marrow's status as a faunus. I was cringing during his line about loyalty: “I used to wear this rank with pride. Now I see it for what it really is: a collar." 

Honestly, I don't have the qualifications to unpack all that, so let's just acknowledge that the scene, while good in some respects, was massively insulting in others. I’ll let others in the fandom defend or damn it as they see fit. 

We get a shot of how shocked the Ace Ops are that they nearly watched their team member get executed for speaking up against a bomb threat. It once again highlight's RWBY's strange depiction of violence and when it's deemed appropriate. Harriet has threatened people a couple of times now — here telling Marrow she'll shut him up herself — yet her reaction tells us that she never would have killed him as Ironwood nearly did. Threats, then, mean little... unless Ironwood is making an exaggerated comment about shooting Qrow. Then it's evidence of evil intent that's bound to come to the surface eventually. So does that mean Harriet will be trying to bomb cities herself someday? If so, it once again leaves our heroes in an awkward position, considering that Ruby started the fight Harriet wouldn't, Weiss stuck her weapon in Whitley's face, etc. If it says something awful that Winter would punch a minority — even to save his life — what does it say about Qrow that he would punch a child in anger? Outside of the easy to label actions like Ironwood's bomb threat and shootings, there exists this gray space that asks, “When are you justified to use violence? When is a threat forgivable?” The problem is, the show keeps coming up with contradictory answers. I bring this up not because Winter's punch or Harriet's threat are the most significant examples of this that we've seen, but because the themes of forgiveness and violence take center stage at the episode's end... and RWBY completely drops the ball. Keep these complications in mind. 

Before that though, the group is crowded into the dining room and no matter what else "Risk" might give us, I'm reminded that I really like the design of the Schnee manor. I'm glad the episode found an excuse to show us this room again.

My initial thought upon entering the scene was, "Are we going to talk about Penny's hack? The silver-eyed grimm? Ozpin's return?" and to RWBY's credit it touches on all of these, though I stand by my point about plotlines coming too quickly. Any one of these should have been given the space to grow, not fighting for space against the potential destruction of Mantle. If you don't acknowledge these things in "Risk" you've lost your chance (much like how "Oscar is kidnapped" replaced "Oscar has to deal with Ozpin's return," resulting in a scene where Oscar was just... randomly okay with Ozpin again. We lost the chance to deal with the first conflict introduced because we barreled into the second), yet if you do spend episode time on these issues, it feels like the characters aren't dealing with the immediate threat. Questions of silver eyes, what to do about Penny, and Ozpin's return needed to be given their due before there was an hour time limit resulting in thousands of deaths. Now, you have to wonder why Yang and Ruby are talking about their mother when a city's safety is ticking away. Where were these questions and reassurances years ago?

I think this is why this episode — maybe even this whole volume — simultaneously feels too full and too boring. We're being introduced to lots of Big Things, but then putting them off to focus on other, smaller stuff, and by the time we circle back around it's no longer the right time. We're constantly focusing on the least interesting, least important thing in the room. Why is the group sitting around with their tea when we could have moved the Hound plotline up and started this groundwork earlier? Which means we're doing that work now instead of worrying about Mantle or Penny. All of which is connected to Salem herself being here, yet Ironwood is our villain instead... We're just introducing new idea after new idea, dropping each to focus on something else when the viewer is already emotionally invested in the last conflict. It makes the show feel overly packed with problems we don't have time for while simultaneously having too much time in which the characters do nothing of importance. We're never dealing with these issues at the right time. Talking about a silver-eyed grimm while Salem is here feels like Too Much and having the girls unpack that now, with Mantle’s life on the line, feels like Too Little. Stop sitting around while you've got less than an hour to save half a kingdom! We needed this conversation in a different episode, one not already driven by a problem that’s objectively more important. 

But I'm getting ahead of myself. We're in the dining room and the group is listing all the stuff that has gone wrong lately. Blake mentions that Qrow and Robyn are still in custody, because we definitely want Blake remembering that Qrow exists, not one of his nieces. Ruby, meanwhile, is having a meltdown. "So then it's impossible!" she yells, head in her hands. 

Emerald sneaks in an insult: “See? If Ms. Hero here with all the answers doesn’t have one..." and the others, of course, jump to Ruby's aid. But Emerald is right! It's entirely Ruby's fault that Atlas didn't get the chance to escape with those they had. Her actions and lack of a plan led to where they are now. I'm not saying she's responsible for Ironwood's insane decisions — that's like saying he's responsible for Qrow's in relation to Clover — but Ruby indeed played the part of the hero who had all the answers... without actually having any answers. Now that things are worse than how they started, her only answer is to say it's all "impossible" and throw up her hands. Ruby is an absolutely terrible leader right now and someone should indeed be calling her out on that, it's just too bad it's Emerald, someone technically still presented as an untrustworthy figure for the next couple of minutes. (More on that later.) Any and every criticism of Ruby is dismissed out of hand. Don't believe Ironwood because he's crazy now. The Ace Ops? His boot lickers. Yang has things to say, but once Ren agrees with her she does a 180. Now Ren is heading towards an extra special apology for daring to doubt Ruby. May calls her out, only to also change her opinion the next episode. Now here's one more person, but she's a bad guy. The show has never once encouraged us to treat these criticisms seriously — never allowed them to stick, let alone lead to change — and at this point I'm done with everyone falling over themselves to absolve and praise Ruby. By making Emerald the criticizer and having Ruby throw herself a pity party, the writing ensures that the conversation goes from, "Yeah. You messed up big time and now have a responsibility to fix things" to "Aww, don't be so hard on yourself! We won't let mean Emerald insult you anymore."

Ruby makes herself the victim here. She gets so upset and acts so defeated that all anyone can do is reassure her. The focus turns towards her, a focus centered around hiding against the table, or cowering on a staircase, so that it feels cruel to call her out on her deadly mistakes when she's so clearly upset. But they still should have, especially since cowering and tears have never protected anyone else from the group's criticism. Ozpin is proof of that.

What I'm getting at is that Ruby runs away. She's faced with the consequences of her actions, is informed she needs to help come up with a solution, and instead of braving that decides it's "impossible" and literally runs from the room. While they're on a time limit. Keep this moment in mind for just a bit longer. These choices become doubly important later.

So Ruby can't handle the responsibility she violently ripped from others and the group goes out of their way to comfort her in this. Especially since the writing again decides to conflate Emerald and Ozpin through a comment of Oscar's, demonstrating that it still has no decent sense of what "responsibility" or "villainous acts" means. These scenes are three years in the making and every step getting here was dogged with problems, so the fact that the end result is a mess isn't exactly surprising.

We (thankfully) leave Ruby for a bit and instead turn to Jaune. He's amplifying Nora's aura, but admits that he can't get the scars to go away. That makes sense. After all, they're scars. His semblance helps people heal, but at this point Nora has already healed. Those scars are the result of that.

She says it was “Just another ditzy move from Nora” and I'm glad we're acknowledging that, even if it is all framed through the lens of Nora being incorrect in that assumption. Once again, the writing continually makes statements about characters, but fails to have their actions reflect that. Nora wanted to do more than just hit things with her hammer without thinking them through... and we showed that by having her hit a door with her hammer without thinking it through. Was it heroic? Absolutely. Did it lead to any growth? No. I'd much rather someone acknowledge that yeah, she did the same thing she always does, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. Nora's impulsivity is a part of her and, given the talk of teammates here, she could have gotten reassurance that she'll always have people around to help her temper those impulses. Instead, we're (again) told that she shouldn't do A anymore, watch her do A anyway, the writing presents it like it’s B, Nora admits that she did A, and everyone rushes to assure her it was actually B. Just let these characters make mistakes for once, especially mistakes made in an effort to help someone. This should be the easiest and kindest way to criticize the group and RWBY can’t even manage that. 

Which brings us to Ren. Ren, I am so sorry. You deserved better than this. Nora rips into him, saying, “We were supposed to be a team, but that didn’t matter to you! You shove people out so you don’t have to feel things that are hard!" and again we have RWBY making grand statements that are meaningless. Did Ren keep things bottled up in Volume 7? Yes... and no one tried to help him with that. Instead, Nora decided to bypass his problems completely and try to kiss it better. When that (shockingly) didn't work, Ren was finally forced to open up at Yang's insistence and was abandoned for his perspective. That's what that was, literally and metaphorically: they walked away from him and made it clear that so long as he believes these things, he's not welcome. What were those things? We've made mistakes, Ruby made mistakes, we're not ready for this stuff. That's it! "We were supposed to be a team" makes it sound like Ren betrayed them in the worst possible way, when in reality all he did was acknowledge that they're imperfect and that things are a mess right now. But of course, that is the ultimate betrayal for this group: acknowledgement that they’re not perfect. Everyone can call themselves out to generate sympathy — Nora does it, Ruby does it  — but as soon as someone else agrees and implies that they should make changes, they’re dismissed. 

I've said it before and I'll say it again: the refusal to question Ruby makes me incredibly uncomfortable. Is this as bad as Ironwood shooting someone who questions him? Of course not, but that doesn't make it good. The group has made it clear from Ozpin to Ren that if you put a toe out of line, that's it. You're gone. You are not a part of the group until you are willing to back the group 100%, no matter what horrible things they might be up to. That Nora yells at Ren for questioning and Ren learns to keep his mouth shut, apologizing to both her and Jaune for speaking his mind is... well, it's horrible. That's not friendship. I know the fandom doesn't want to hear that given how much we otherwise love these relationships, but it's not. If you can't question and voice concerns without about serious topics like this without the threat of abandonment — literal or otherwise — then that's not a friend group you should be sticking with. Ren’s "biggest failing as a teammate and a partner" is that he didn't agree with the others and didn’t immediately change his mind when they demanded it. There are awful implications attached to that, especially since Ren’s perspective was a good one. He’s not out here slinging horrific views like, I don’t know, homophobia at the bee’s non-relationship. He just went “We made mistakes” and the group responded “Absolutely not. Absurd. Fuck you.” They didn’t even consider that position, which speaks to both a lack of respect for Ren and a level of arrogance that keeps getting them into trouble. But these issues are easily overlooked given everything else that surrounds them. Outside of Ren's apology, I quite liked the renora moment. We got a detail about Nora's backstory! She called Ren pretty! We got an "I love you"! He booped her nose!! It's all very cute and wholesome... and soured by the knowledge of what Ren had to do to get here.

Outside of these generalized responses, there are three other points I wanted to make about this scene:

Yes, more obligatory humor to ruin an otherwise serious moment. Jaune could have just smiled softly and slipped out. Or have him leave before the conversation started (because Ren shouldn't have been apologizing to him in the first place...) Instead, we got multiple seconds of him being awkward, including a bunch of funny sound effects.

I'm legitimately happy we got that "I love you" — outside of the problems since arriving in Atlas, I've always enjoyed the ship — but coming on the heels of last week's episode, it makes the bee's forehead touch look even worse. Renora has been confirmed multiple times at this point, but we still can't get something overt for our one, queer ship.

On the one hand, I really like that Nora set a boundary here — a surprisingly mature conversation for RWBY — but I'm confused as to what exactly the boundary is. She says she needs to figure out who she is without Ren, but what does that translate to on a practical, day-to-day basis? Normally, when a couple needs to figure out who they are they separate, but renora can't do that. They're still on the same team, stuck in the same war, presumably off to do the same things they've always done together. It sounds great on paper to say that Nora is going to discover who she is without Ren, but unless they separate again I don't see how that can happen. More likely, we'll get a volume or two of them looking and acting exactly as they always have, but when it comes time for relationship drama again, Nora will insist she's a different person who is now ready to be with him. That she's changed. But change requires, you know, making a change, so is renora actually going to look any different moving forward?

While these two confess their love but also decide to be separate (is that what happened?), Qrow and Robyn have knocked out some guards and retrieved their weapons. Robyn watches four security feeds, whispering, "He's... really gonna do it." See? Even Robyn, someone who never liked Ironwood and considered him dangerous from the start, is in shock that he would go this far. Qrow doesn't want to talk moral downfalls though, he's all action: "Not if we stop him first."

You know, at least Qrow is doing something. What he's doing is stupid, particularly given his motivations, but with the volume we've had I give him props for coming up with a plan and sticking to it. That's more than many of the others have done.

Yet then, suddenly, Robyn doesn't want to kill Ironwood. ...Since when? Robyn has been the most trigger happy of the lot while Qrow initially wanted to talk. Now they've switched places for no reason I can see, with Qrow all murder happy and Robyn cautioning restraint. Which admittedly isn't uncommon. Remember how Nora was all about protecting Mantle and then randomly decided to help with Amity instead? Remember how Yang was critical of Ruby and then decided to defend her to Ren? Remember how Hazel was pro-Salem until he saw a blue naked lady and decided to defect? At this point, characters just do things at random.

Robyn says that Qrow isn't trying to kill Ironwood because that's the right thing to do, only because he wants revenge. A true enough assessment. But then she follows it up by claiming that Qrow is a better huntsmen than Clover because he does the right thing. Without rehashing all my arguments regarding how Clover was not the devil incarnate for refusing to let two potential criminals walk free — especially after they attacked him — we're really playing the dead guy card now? Clover was murdered. Robyn and Qrow were participants in that murder. Now Robyn is making sweeping claims about who is the better person when Clover quite obviously isn't here to defend himself? That's all kinds of messed up.

Before they can bash the dead guy anymore though the elevator arrives. We see Qrow and Robyn's shocked expressions at whoever is behind the doors, presumably Winter and Marrow. It seems likely that Winter didn't really intend to take him to the brig. They're defecting and have now found two more allies to help them. Robyn wants a plan other than run upstairs and stab Ironwood? Winter will likely provide one.

We return to Ruby who, as established, is wallowing in the most dramatic position on the staircase. Obviously things are legitimately horrible right now and if Ruby had been given a storyline different from what we've seen since Volume 6, I'd feel sorry for her. As it stands, it's just frustrating to watch her look like the maiden of a Victorian novel while Mantle's time ticks away. 

The conversation between her and Yang is great though. At least, it is for the first few sentences. I love that the show remembered they're sisters and have them talking again. I love that Yang tries to cheer Ruby up by saying she outshines her big sis in regards to the Hound. I love that she nevertheless acknowledges that the Schnees were a part of that defeat, giving them their due rather than putting all the praise on Ruby. We establish that Yang has learned what the Hound really was. This conversation is going strong...

...but then.

"That's what happened to mom."

Really? Really? In eight episodes we went from, "Lol just because the Hound spoke doesn't mean Summer was secretly made into a grimm. That’s a crazy theory" to "Summer was absolutely turned into a grimm. That's canon now!" Except because it was made canon by Ruby just announcing it one day, we can expect for an even bigger "twist" in the future: Summer is still alive. Why wouldn't she be? The Hound was untouchable outside of silver eyes, so we have little reason to think anyone has defeated her in the last 14 odd years.

I'll admit the timeline works out better than expected (I think) with Salem killing SEWs during Maria's time before switching to experimentation, but there's no emotional weight to this. I just don't care and frankly I don't think the fandom cares either. Oh, there's plenty of excitement over the reveal, but that's all for the version of Summer Rose people have built up in their minds for the last eight years, not anything that exists in the show. If you strip away all the headcanons and fics, Summer isn't interesting because she barely exists. We know nothing about her as a person and therefore we have no reason to care that she's likely another Hound. Worse — because maybe this could be smoothed over if we just care since Ruby cares — everything else surrounding this reveal was badly done. Summer, as said, has been a non-character for this whole series. Yang only just remembered two episodes ago that Summer is her mom too. The only evidence of experimentation we've seen is on other grimm, not people. There was more mystery surrounding why Tyrian was interested in Jaune, not why he'd kidnap Ruby (Big Bads always want to kidnap heroes). We have no idea who this silver eyed faunus was. We have no idea why Salem would randomly start experimenting when she doesn't need additional weapons. We don't know why she would keep these weapons to the sidelines when she’s apparently had them for over a decade. I don't even buy that Ruby, someone who we never see thinking about or questioning any of this, suddenly put all these pieces together to hit on the revelation. 

None of this adds up because it wasn't planned. Summer was dead, added to the series purely because having a dead mom is interesting, and she was treated as dead for seven years. Not just by the characters, by the show. Then, suddenly, the narrative raced to remind everyone that she's supposedly a Very Important Character so we could get this twist. It’s awful. Not because the idea itself is horrible, but because it was shoved into a story that wasn't prepared for it and certainly doesn't need it. The group has Salem herself attacking the kingdom, Ironwood threatening destruction, three Relics still to discover, not to mention all the other personal conflicts going on — Emerald walking around the mansion, Ozpin is back, Penny is being controlled, Oscar has finite magic now, Nora is still recovering — but we're going to introduce another subplot to deal with? RWBY acts like it's terrified that if it doesn't add something new and flashy every third episode, its viewers will jump ship. Despite its hiccups, there's a reason why the arcs of Volume 4 worked well overall: characters were given the time to explore specific problems, like Yang's PTSD and the destruction of Ren's village. Now, in episode 11 of 14, RWBY reveals that two of the characters' mom was turned into a literal monster, but there's only time for a tiny bit of comfort because Penny is escaping and they have less than an hour now to save Mantle. There is way too much going on and we're not devoting enough time to any of it.

Hell, even the conversation can't afford to stay on the Summer reveal for more than a few sentences. Ruby segues back to her self-chastisement, saying that she wasted time on Amity. She did, but not because people didn't come. She never should have made that terrifying, nonsensical announcement to begin with. But just like Ruby never thought through the pros and cons of telling the world about Salem, she apparently never thought about the logistics of getting help. She's written the world off now — so you just know help will appear in the finale — yet she never considered how long all this would take. Our timeline is (supposedly) two days, so how long would it take a kingdom to digest the information she gave them, decide on a course of action, get people and resources together, then fly all the way to Atlas? After Ruby used most of the first day just to send the message? As I and others have pointed out, the answer is “way longer than the group has.” It shouldn't be possible, yet neither Ruby nor Yang realizes basic facts like, "What's the flight time between Vacuo and Atlas?" Like Qrow blaming his semblance rather than his decision to team up with Tyrian, Ruby blames the world for abandoning them rather than her terribly thought out plan. Both have reached the right emotion — regret — but not for the right reasons.

Also, Ruby says that Amity fell. Are Pietro and Maria okay??

Yang talks about blind optimism vs. no optimism at all, something I could really get behind if the group hadn't been governed by blind optimism this whole time. Also if what the rest of what Yang said made sense. She fires back with, “And in case you didn’t notice, my plan for Mantle didn’t work either." Uh... what plan? As far as I recall there was no plan. They just went down to do any tasks that needed doing: supply runs and grimm killings. What plan is Yang talking about?

This conversation is a disaster. We circle back around to Summer with Yang saying she also took a risk (the title is very obvious this episode) but "she's still my hero." Is she? Because the only thing you've ever said about Summer is that she baked great cookies. Regardless, Yang lays her head on Ruby's shoulder and they cry some more.

Then Jaune hurries down the steps because Penny has woken up and broken through a window.

Again: how were they planning to deal with this? Did anyone discuss it? Because it looks like Klein said, "Hey, that friend of yours powered up and could have hurt us," Nora said, "Hey, Penny was fighting some sort of control," and Whitely said, "Yeah, she wanted to open the vault and then self destruct" and everyone just left her alone in some room, deciding they'd worry about that later. If Penny had just snuck out a little more quietly the group would have been screwed.

What I do like though is the teamwork to keep Penny from flying off. It feels like we get so little teamwork nowadays, which makes everyone piling on others' range weapons, or Jaune boosting Weiss' glyphs, really enjoyable. Even Emerald gets in on the action because apparently they gave her her weapons back! 

We're going to talk about this nonsense in a second.

For now, Ruby implores Penny to fight it, which is exactly what I said we'd get. Penny insists Ruby kill her though, saying that if she does she'll ensure that the power passes to her. I find this to be a weird priority. Does the group really care about who gets the Maiden powers right now? The threat here is that Penny will successfully open the vault — which shouldn't even be that much of a worry. Just let Ironwood leave instead of trying to destroy Mantle! Keeping him here has made things worse! — and that Penny will self-destruct. That feels like the biggest worry: that Penny will die. So they're going to prevent her death by... killing her themselves? Priorities and motivations really feel shaky this week.

Luckily, Ruby remembers that Penny is A Real Person and tells Jaune to amplify her aura. The fact that she has a soul keeps the virus from overtaking her. Hurray!

That's like saying my sense of self will beat off rabies. Just believe that you're your own person and nothing can touch you. They go so far as to say, “That’s who you are. Our friend, not a machine” and that feels like such an erasure to me. Penny is a machine. She is! And that was great back when this was accepted as a good thing, not something to ignore. Remember this?

You think just because you've got nuts and bolts instead of squishy guts makes you any less real than me?

Here, Ruby acknowledges Penny's difference and reaffirms that she still has worth. Now, the group denies Penny's difference in order to prove that she has worth. She has worth because she's supposedly not a machine and supposedly can't be controlled like one... even though she is a machine and is being controlled. It's only Jaune's semblance that keeps her from going under again. The concept of Penny's personhood is now connected to her ability to resist a machine-based virus and she has failed to do that. This doesn't confirm Penny's humanity, it tells Penny (and us) that humanity is distinct from the machine parts of her, rather than a concept that includes it, and the moment she is too influenced by that machinery she ceases to be a person. The group isn't accepting her here, they're encouraging Penny to ignore and deny the parts that make her Penny.

If you want an example of how to do an arc like this far, far better, go watch The Next Generation with Data. He's what Penny could have been.

Regardless, the virus has been held at bay, at least so long as Jaune has aura. Which seems to be endless given that he was exhausting himself in the whale, but is now boosting Nora, Weiss, and Penny without any difficulty.

At least that's a minor concern in the grand scheme of things. What we're about to get? Not so much. Honestly, I'm 7k into this recap and I just don't have the energy that these two scenes deserve. Which scenes? The one where Emerald is welcomed into the fold with laughter and Ozpin has to grovel for forgiveness.

Emerald first. Last week I said:

“However this fight ends, we could really use someone like you, [Emerald.]” That’s it then. Discussion over. We knew as soon as it started that blindly trusting her was being presented as the “right” thing to do and now here we are, deciding that conclusively, despite Jaune and Yang’s complaints. By the time the group reaches the mansion, Oscar is defending Emerald from Ruby. We’re supposed to just accept that she’s a part of the group now, only minimal pushback allowed.

and I was right. Over the course of the last week I spoke with a number of friends, many of them working under the belief that this was just the start of an arc for Emerald. Obviously the show wouldn't instantly have the group trust her after all this. They'll need to warm up to her first. She'll need to prove herself. Well, I was far more pessimistic, arguing instead that I thought this was it. She was already being presented as a perfectly trustworthy figure. I'd briefly thought I'd been mistaken when the group turned on Emerald for her comment to Ruby, but then suddenly she's been given her weapons back. It's not even a matter of "You should be able to defend yourself, but you're still not trustworthy" (which would still have problems, but). No, she makes a comment about "switching sides" and that's it, trust achieved. That's all it took — nothing at all.

Now, some shows do function on a second chance policy. We can name hundred of stories where heroes instantly forgive antagonists and there's nothing wrong with that. The problem is that RWBY is very much not that show. In the exact same scene Ozpin apologizes to the group and begs that they try to trust him again:

“I’ve failed all of you. I should have trusted you with the truth and I should never have run the day you discovered it."

This is complete and utter bullshit. Sorry, I'm not mincing words for this one. Two years we waiting for the group to come around, hoping that there would be apologies on both sides, but there wasn't. The group doesn't physically or verbally hurt Ozpin anymore — they do accept his request — but it's done with expressions that say this is what they are owed. You’d better apologize.

I could rehash all the arguments I've already made about how atrociously they treated him, how Ozpin had no reason to trust a bunch of teenagers, how important it was that both sides admit their mistakes, but if you're reading this recap you're likely already familiar with all that. Rather, what I want to emphasize here is that our opinions on Ozpin don't even matter here. Even those who take his apology at face value — fully believing he did fail them, he should have told them everything from the start, and that him leaving was "running away" rather than being driven off — even if we accept for just a moment that Ozpin is as guilty as the show says and heinous as the fandom claims... surely he's not as bad as Emerald? In roughly chronological order she has:

Tried to ally herself with Adam along with Cinder and Mercury

Helped to attack Amber, resulting in injuries that would have killed her if Cinder hadn't gotten to her first

Helped kill Tukson

Pretended to be a transfer student and Ruby's friend for the rest of the semester (that’s a lie that would breed mistrust)

Tricked the world into thinking that Yang had attacked Mercury unprovoked

Uses her semblance on Pyrrha, causing her to unintentionally kill Penny

All of this was in service of the Fall of Beacon, an event that destroyed a school, killed an unknown number of students, killed Pyrrha, and lost Yang her arm

Participated in the attack on Haven which, beyond the intent to further Salem's goals, nearly got Weiss killed

Came to Atlas to assist in the next attack

Went after Penny, Pietro, and Maria — two of whom might still be in trouble depending on if Amity literally fell out of the sky 

Listened to Oscar being tortured, hemming and hawing for a while before realizing that, if the whole world is in danger, she's in danger too

Finally jumped ship

Emerald is one of the bad guys. All the sad looks over the years doesn't change that. Yet somehow an antagonist we've had since Volume 1 is considered more trustworthy than Ozpin, a man who hasn't intentionally helped kill their friends and who has been helping and apologizing for months now.

Yang "Aww"s when Emerald speaks. Just sit with that for a second. The woman who went through all of that horror because of Emerald, who just last episode was correctly saying they can't expect her to forget all that, is going "Aww" after... Emerald helped hold Penny for two seconds? This is ridiculous. These are the faces of the group when talking about Emerald's trust

whereas these are their expressions when talking about Ozpin's

It’s not a matter of who deserves trust or not, here it’s purely a matter of comparison. Emerald should not be more quickly forgiven than Ozpin. 

Now toss in the story Ozpin tells. Unsurprisingly, it's another fairy tale — we've gotten a little heavy-handed lately — about a young girl who flees the consequences of a choice and, having never learned from her initial failure, spreads even more trouble. That's Ruby. That is Ruby to a T in this episode and the last three volumes. She is literally a young girl who has caused staggering consequences, literally ran away from the conversation about those consequences, and is now poised to continue making those mistakes because everyone keeps reinforcing her flaws. That's Ruby, yet somehow the show thinks it's Ozpin. He positions himself as the young girl here, as if he didn't face his consequences generations ago when he left the cabin, didn't learn from his mistakes by keeping Salem's secret, and hadn't been driven away by the very people he's asking for a second chance. This scene has everything backwards and while normally I'd grab hold of the possibility that maybe things will right themselves later on... we're done. This is the ending of that arc. After two years of saying, "Maybe, maybe, maybe," Ozpin has been taken back into the fold after begging his way back in. There's no more time to correct things. RWBY missed its chance. Weiss says that "Trust is a risk" and that's how Ozpin is forgiven. They have taken the risk of trusting him again after months of reflection, life-saving actions, and apologies. Emerald is granted the risk of trust in under an hour. I’ve heard so many people say they’re dropping RWBY this volume and scenes like this are precisely why. 

Ugh. Heavy stuff, folks! I feel like I need to lighten the mood. Here, let's take a moment to acknowledge that the Schnees and Klein only marginally know what's happening.

Someone help them.

That is, to all intents and purposes, the end of our episode. Ruby has some sort of epiphany about actually handing Penny over — "That's actually a risk we haven't considered" — and Ironwood will no doubt fall for whatever plan they've concocted because he's stupid now. He receives a call from Ruby saying they agree to his terms, Watts is attempting to get communication of his own up and running, and Neo arrives to do... whatever she intends to do. Idk, I have assumed she wanted Ruby, but Cinder obviously doesn't have her yet for a trade off. Regardless, Neo is ready for a fight while Cinder just smiles. Team up 2.0?

As for bingo, I'm using my free space for "Worst redemption arc I've ever seen," with an honorary nod to Hazel too, and Ozpin's square gets blacked out in exes because that was just #bad.

This bingo board is a mess. Appropriate lol 

Three more weeks, everyone. Hang in there! 💜

#rwby #rwby spoilers #rwby volume 8 #rwby risk #mymetas #rwby recaps

[jaskierswolf]

hi wolfie it is i, the ramen man, i was wondering if you could write a prompt based on a baking competition tv show ? maybe even christmas themed if you want ?? no stress if you can't/don't wanna write it, i love u 🥺

This got... long? So you can also find on AO3

__________

Jaskier wasn’t stressed. He’d made this recipe a thousand times. It was his speciality!  No one made better chocolate brownies than he did but his presentation let him down. They were messy, gooey and delicious but this was a competition. They needed to look good too. He whined as he sat in front of his oven. Who made chocolate brownies for a cooking competition? Oh god he was an idiot.

He glanced around the room. Valdo Marx was busy finishing up his winter spiced cake and it smelled absolutely divine; the bastard. Plus he’d brought along some holly sprigs to make the whole thing look a bunch more christmassy. Jaskier had baked some orange slices to decorate his brownies. He also had some edible golden glitter for the top and a few spun sugar decoration for good luck. His secret ingredient though was Cointreau. The orange liqueur kept the brownies extra gooey in the centre without them being too rich.

He stared into the oven, chewing his bottom lip anxiously as he ran a hand through his hair. They were almost done. There was a shiny film over the top that would give the brownies a nice crunch. If he did well with these he would get into the next round; the final round. In that round they hand to create gingerbread houses, well more palaces. They had to absolute architectural masterpieces and he was shitting himself. Like his brownies, his gingerbread tasted amazing but it wasn’t always pretty. They were delicious and wonderful but not much to look at on the surface.

He’d only gotten so far because they tasted good.

“Come on, come on, come on!” He muttered and pressed his face against the glass.

He really needed to at least get to the final. There were smaller cash prizes for all finalists and the publicity from the competition would do wonders for his little bakery.

“How’s it going?” Triss Merigold, one of the presenters asked.

He shrugged. “Not much I can do until it’s finished baking. It always goes much faster when you’re watching this at home.”

Triss laughed. “Clever editing.”

“I just hope I’ve done enough,” he sighed. “Maybe I can charm the judges with my guitar skills instead…”

“Ah yes, they said you play. Is that a hobby?” Triss asked with forced politeness.

Jaskier scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah. Well, I wanted to play as a kid. I was going to be the next John Lennon but you know how it is. My gran taught me how to bake and I became addicted. I still write my own songs for my YouTube channel though.”

“Wow! That’s amazing!” Triss made it sound like the least amazing hobby on the planet.

Luckily the oven timer went off at that moment and Jaskier was able to crack on. He pricked the brownies to make sure they were cooked through before setting it aside to cool. Whilst they were cooling he grabbed his tray of sugar decorations and the orange slicer.

“Bakers! You have five minutes!” Triss called out.

“Oh bollocks!” He groaned. He wasn’t going to have enough time to let it cool before decorating. Luckily the brownies tasted better warm but they were also harder to get out of the tin in one piece. He whined pitifully but dug a knife around the edge of the tin before slicing the brownies into the neatest rectangles he could manage. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

The camera man glared at him for swearing but he just stuck his tongue out. He was stressed, he was allowed to fucking swear! They were crumbling in his hands as he moved them to the plates. He cleaned up the crumbs as best as he could before showering them with edible glitter. He arranged the baked orange decorations as best he could so they looked slightly less terrible and then finally delicately placed the spun sugar on the top, only breaking two of the little shits in his hands.

“And stop!” Triss yelled and all the bakers stood back from their stations.

Valdo Marx was smiling smugly. His winter spiced cake looked fucking fantastic. On his other side stood Priscilla. She’d made cupcakes that were elegantly decorated to look like snowflakes, each one slightly different and beautiful. Next to Priscilla was Essi Daven. Her chocolate Yule Log looked amazing, Jaskier almost believed it was a real log.

Oh he was so going out.

He sighed and plastered a fake smile on his face as Yennefer Vengerberg re-entered the room.

“Time’s up bakers. You are apparently the best of the best but only three of you will make the final round. My expectations are high. I’m sure you’ll disappoint.” She smirked at them, violet eyes flashing dangerously. “Sadly, it is not only me that you must impress with these bakes.”

Jaskier felt his eyes widen. Shit, he’d forgotten that they brought in a second judge in this round. The bakers never knew who would be until they were introduced but it was always a famous chef and Jaskier suddenly felt like he couldn’t breathe.

“Please welcome, my ex-husband… Geralt.”

Jaskier let out a pitiful whimper as Geralt fucking Rivia entered the room. The man was only his celebrity crush. He would be fine. It was going to be fine and holy shit he was even more gorgeous in real life.

Fuck.

“Now, as I am sure you are all away, Geralt and I have never once agreed on anything except our daughter. So this promises to be fun.” Yen drawled sarcastically.

Geralt chuckled and crossed his arms in front on his chest. He was wearing a tight black t-shirt and Jaskier’s entirely life was suddenly just Geralt’s arms.

They were so big.

“That is precisely why I was invited, Yen,” Geralt muttered with a fond smile. “Evens out the vote.”

“My vote is fine on its own.”

“Hmm. We’ll see.”

Jaskier zoned out the rest of the conversation as the other bakers made their way to the front to be judged. He was too entranced by the god stood before him. The long silver hair that was pulled up into a bun, revealing the oh so sexy undercut. Jaskier watched Geralt’s lips part as he tasted one of Priscilla’s cupcakes. He got some frosting stuck on the corner of his lips and Jaskier desperately wanted to help him lick it off, but instead Geralt’s tongue flicked out to catch it. Jaskier was weak.

He zoned back in long enough to notice with great satisfaction that Valdo’s cake was under-baked and a little bit shit, not even holly could save it. So Jaskier was still in with a chance, and then it was his turn. He was hoping the brownies would still be warm. If they’d cooled down too much then his presentation would probably fuck him over.

“Buttercup?” Yennefer raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “If you could stop drooling over my ex for two seconds, tell us about your… brownies?”

Jaskier’s fingers flexed and he tugged nervously at the edge of his shirt. “Ah yes. Umm. Hi,” He stammered and blushed as Geralt winked at him. “Brownies, orange. Chocolate orange brownies,” he swallowed and ran a hand through his hair. “I used dark chocolate mostly but there are chocolate orange chunks in there too, any orange flavoured chocolate is good. Orange zest, orange juice and umm.. oh ah, orange liqueur.”

“Aren’t you concerned the orange will overpower the chocolate?” Yen asked sharply.

Jaskier shrugged. “I make these every year. They sell well at the bakery.”

“Smells good,” Geralt noted.

“The presentation is shocking,” Yennefer countered.

“Yeah,” Jaskier admitted with a sheepish smile “but I can do better. If you give me a chance.”

Geralt raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re running out of chances.”

“Yeah but I’m cute.” The words fell from his lips before he could stop them. He clapped his hand over his mouth and blush furiously. “I am so sorry!”

“Hmm.”

“Let’s just taste them shall we?” Yen suggested.

Jaskier nodded, still hiding behind his hands. “Please.” He felt a hand on his shoulder and he yelped.

“Relax, Jaskier,” Geralt murmured in a low voice.

Jaskier’s blush deepened and he smiled up at Geralt. Oh those eyes were like honey, so warm and inviting. There was still a small smudge of frosting on his lips that Jaskier hadn’t noticed before but now he couldn’t stop staring. He wondered if Geralt tasted as sweet as he looked. “Thanks, Geralt.”

“Geralt, stop flirting and taste the freaking brownie.”

“Yes, dear,” Geralt sighed.

Geralt took a bite of his brownie and fucking moaned. A quiet whimper escaped Jaskier’s lips. God he was going to melt on national television but he didn’t care. He’d had a chance to meet his favourite celebrity and Geralt had liked his baking! It was honestly life goals. The only thing he had left to tick off was his wedding to Geralt by the coast. That had always seemed like an unreachable fantasy that helped him sleep at night but now Geralt was right in front of him… it didn’t seem quite so far away.

“Fuck,” Geralt moaned. Jaskier chuckled, that would have to be beeped out in the final cut. “This is amazing!”

Yennefer looked surprised as she tried her own forkful of brownie. “Not bad, buttercup. Not bad at all. It melts in your mouth.”

“And the orange is actually subtler than I expected.” Geralt gave him a fond smile and Jaskier had to remind himself how to breathe.

“Ah, umm. Thanks, Thank you, Geralt.”

“It looks like dirt,” Yennefer said cooly “but it tastes heavenly. Presentation has always been your weakness, Jaskier.”

Jaskier’s eyes widened. Yennefer hadn’t called him ‘Jaskier’ since the first round when Triss had mentioned it was Polish for buttercup. “I know. I know!” He whined.

“If you get through to the final then you will fail miserably unless you can change that,” she added with a raised eyebrow.

“Taste won’t save you, no matter how cute you are,” Geralt smirked.

“I know. Wait hang on what?!” Jaskier stammered at Geralt’s words.

“You did good, buttercup. Well done.” Yennefer said firmly and rolled her eyes. “We’re done here.”

“Thank you, Yennefer, Geralt,” He nodded, definitely not still blushing as his gaze landed back on Geralt. “Thank you.”

____________

Jaskier screamed into the cushions as he threw himself down on the sofa. He’d fucking done it! He was in the final! He’d never imagined in a million years! Not to mention that Geralt Rivia thought he was cute. He wondered if he would be able to get Geralt’s autograph or whether that was just weird considering he was one of the judges.

“Jaskier?”

Jaskier rolled over so he could see Geralt, forgetting that the sofa wasn’t that wide and falling onto the floor. “Oh fuck!”

“Are you alright?” Geralt asked as he came over to help him stand up. Jaskier gripped Geralt’s forearm as he was pulled to his feet.

All other thoughts left his mind as he stared at the muscles in Geralt’s arms.

“Arms…” He blurted out. “I mean! Shit. Umm, oh god.”

Geralt just laughed and steadied him on his feet. “Look, I wanted to ask…. once the show is over and I’m no longer a judge. Did you want to get dinner?”

Jaskier gaped at Geralt. “I’m sorry what?”

“Unless I’ve completely misread the situation. Fuck. Sorry. Look you can say no, I won’t score you worse because of it,” Geralt paled and crossed his arms in front of his  chest. “We’ll pretend this never happened.”

“No, Geralt wait!” Jaskier grabbed his arm. “Yes, ask me again after the final but yes. Dinner sounds great.”

Geralt smiled faintly and nodded. “Great.”

“Great,” Jaskier repeated. “It’s a date!”

Geralt nodded again. “I have to go. We shouldn’t be seen alone together until after the final.”

“Yeah, yeah. Of course.”

“Good luck, Jaskier.”

Jaskier grinned dopily as he watched Geralt walk away. It looked like Christmas magic was a real thing after all. “Yeah, you too.”

Wait. You too? Oh fuck it. _____________ Tag list: @alwenarin @slythnerd @davidtennan-t @flippinfricks @innocentcinnamonpun @marvagon @elliestormfound @geraskier-trashh @panerato @moonysourenza @artistsfuneral @victorieschild @hailhailsatan @wherethewordsare @havenoffandoms @bitchy-witchy-post-mortem @electricrituals @geralt-of-riviass @00qtee @kittynannygaming @stinastar @scribblesonmapleleaves @thecomfortofoldstorries @fontegagrilledcheese @anythinggoesfandoms @veritasrose @trickstermoose67 @nonegenderleftpain @ohheytheremiss @kueble @love-more-today-than-yesterday @kozkaboi

#the witcher #geraskier #geralt of rivia #yennefer of vengerberg #jaskier pankratz #triss merigold #modern au #christmas prompt #wolfie's witcher writing #ramenyul #winter prompts

[katnissmellarkkk]

I *DEMAND* part 3 of shattered pearl. I repeat. I *DEMAND*.

Hahahahaha omg. Well, I decided to legitimately dig through the archives of my writing drafts and found chapter three of the Peeta-Wasn’t-Hijacked fic. It’s been given like 1,000 different names on different sites. I’ve never loved any of them. And I don’t really think this is my best writing ngl. But I also figure ... why be so stingy, ya know? If I have an incomplete draft, that I probably won’t finish, why not post a little bit? Especially since I literally left everyone and their brother who were reading this fic on a cliffy for over a year.

With that said.... I wrote this part like ... 15 months ago? 14 ? 13 ? Something like that. And I haven’t edited it since so ... yeah! Here’s a small chunk of chapter three! 🥳🥳🥳 Hope it’s better than I remember it being!

But it’s lacking something and it’s only then I realize, what I’m searching for inside Gale’s mouth, is the spark that only Peeta’s ever ignited in me. I keep waiting in vain for the warmth that started in my stomach and then rose up and exploded in my chest, for the craving that no matter what I couldn’t manage to satisfy, for the thrilling, almost hysterical, tingly feeling, to overcome me and leave me lightheaded in a completely foreign way. A way that couldn’t be attributed to lack of oxygen.

But it never does. I pull back and wipe my mouth carelessly on my arm and sigh, already sensing Gale’s demeanor taking a nose dive at my lackluster reaction.

I’m not disappointed when I look to see his expression. His eyes are frustrated, his mouth is downturned, his eyebrows are pinched together. And I feel as bad as I knew I would. Because no matter what, I’m hurting someone I deeply care for.

But how I feel upon seeing Gale’s face isn’t even comparable to the amount of remorse that fills me, that overtakes my entire being, when I see Peeta standing in the doorway, having watched our entire exchange.

/

I yelled his name as he disappeared down the hall. I tried to rip out all the needles and wires connecting me to the machines and the stiff, sterilized bed but Gale used all his strength to push me down flat. I was overpowered and exhausted and my left side was screaming mercilessly, and I don’t even know what pain was the bruised lung and what pain was my hurt ribs and what pain was my heart violently smashing into the pit of my stomach.

All I know is that if I had been able to reach Peeta before he evaporated, I have no clue what I would have said to him.

What I could have said to make it alright.

Gale tried to talk to me again after that but I entirely tuned him out, no longer caring if I wounded his feelings, or anyone else's for that matter.

It seems like no matter what I do, no matter how careful or cautious or preemptive I try to be, someone still got hurt in the end.

I wish I could just shut out the world, like I did during those first few weeks in Thirteen. Hide inside closets when I had a flashback. Shove myself into a minuscule crawl space with every nightmare. Refuse to speak to anyone who wasn't Gale or my family. Only eat when my mother nearly forced me. Show no remorse for how rude or how clinically insane I came across.

But now there was an agreement in place, an agreement I made to protect the victors—namely the one who just disappeared down the hall on me—and the people who had no voice on their own. The people who’s only chance was a half-crazed, shell-shocked, battle worn seventeen year old girl, who was just gunned down on national television.

Even if I wanted to retreat to some safe haven inside my head—if such a thing even existed for me—like Annie Cresta, I knew it could never happen.

For me, that wasn’t an option. If I don’t fulfill my duties to Coin, Peeta, Johanna, Annie and probably countless more people will suffer. The districts would undoubtably suffer. Gale would suffer. My mother and Prim would suffer.

I was proven right when later that same night Plutarch came to visit me again. I'd been lying on my side to avoid having to see Gale, who was still soldered to my bedside. My good side was thankfully opposite his seat.

When the Gamemaker spoke I thought I would be forced back to work. Forced to head back to the rebels and engage in their plans.

And I was resigned to it, well aware all along that I wouldn't be given the luxury of time to grieve the hurt I just caused Peeta. Or even the pain I knew I was inflicting upon Gale. The constant seesaw my heart was bouncing up and down on.

I was endlessly thankful that I was still pumped with morphling when Plutarch said that I was needed in Coin's office, because it heavily suppressed any real emotion I had brewing deep inside.

Morphling can cause you to let down your guard sometimes, make you say or do things you wouldn't otherwise or allow things to happen you'd ordinarily have the sense to stop. But it also causes all your severe emotions, all your heightened feelings, to dull as well. And for that, in light of everything that had just transpired, I was eternally grateful for.

When the doctor had removed all the needles from my arm, and I had been given a robe to go over my hospital gown—which, shockingly, was even uglier and thinner and itchier than the gowns they gave in the Capitol hospitals—Gale escorts me down the halls, through the corridors and to President Coin’s office.

I don’t speak to him the entire time. Looking at him makes my stomach churn with remorse and regret, though I’m not even sure who those feelings are directed towards. I’m not even sure how to articulate the way I feel right now.

And, as much as I try to force him out of my mind—as much as I do my best to rip him out from wherever he crawled beneath my skin and flooded into my veins—I inexplicably miss Peeta.

In more ways than I even know how to decipher. Even inside my own head.

I thought that feeling of longing would have ebbed away once he was rescued from Snow and his twisted mansion, but even knowing he’s safe here in Thirteen, I still crave his presence next to me.

I still want him next to me almost all the time.

It’s at least partially attributable to the fact that for so long, it was me and Peeta against the world. He has been my partner in this whirlwind rollercoaster since the first games and, even when I feel like every single aspect that could potentially go wrong has, sometimes it seems like I couldn’t have gotten luckier with who was chosen that fateful reaping to stand by my side the entire horrific ride.

I wipe my eyes as inconspicuously as I can but Gale sees and almost instinctively puts his hand on my shoulder. And proves he knows me better than I give him credit for. “I’ll talk to him, Katniss.”

“Don’t,” I immediately hiss. “You’ll just make it worse, Gale. He-he,” I struggle with explaining what I want to say and I curse my best friend for even addressing my moment of weakness because now I have to go talk to Coin, looking like an unstable mess—with a near bullet wound—and I blurt out the very first thing I can think of. “He doesn’t even know you, okay? You’ll just-“

There’s no malice in Gale’s voice as he softly replies, “Well, he was fine when I went and saw him before you woke up.”

I stop now, dead in my tracks. “You saw him? After I was shot?”

He nods slowly. “Yeah, I felt like should check on him. I know...” He pauses and looks upwards and I recognize, once again, this whole thing isn’t easy for him either. “I know he means a lot to you. And I heard what happened when he saw you go down. So I went and checked in on him...” He stops again before shrugging nonchalantly. “He was calmer by the time I saw him. He was nice. He’s always been nice.” At that Gale rolls his eyes. “Too nice. Probably why Snow wanted to hurt him.”

I start walking again, moving ahead of him a few paces. “You’re not helping,” I state, my voice a monotone.

“I’ll talk to him,” Gale offers again, running to catch up.

“Please don’t, okay? Just let it be. I don’t even know if he’ll speak to me, I don’t want to have to worry about what you’ll say to him.”

I vigorously shake off his hand on my shoulder when he tries to comfort me again, and feel him root into place as I make the rest of the way to Coin’s office.

And I wonder if I hurt him now too.

I wonder if I managed to completely annihilate them both from me in one night.

/

Much to my surprise and, to be completely honest, my utter disappointment, Coin doesn’t want me to head back out and fight for the rebellion. She doesn’t want me to even film more propos.

Plutarch does, but his ideas now are pretty frivolous and have more to do with him being still stuck in the fantasy of putting on a good show and less to do with fighting for the good of the country.

Coin simply says, “You did your job, Miss Everdeen. You united the districts,” in her calm, disingenuous—completely unsettling—tone.

And argument I put up is met with a simple shake of the head and a pursing of her lips. All indisputable rejections, her cold, blank eyes telling me wordlessly that in no way could I sway her once her mind was made up.

Still doesn’t stop me from trying though.

“I want to help the rebels,” I plead, looking to Boggs behind Coin’s chair, his face still stoic but his eyes giving me a look that isn’t altogether dismissive.

That was something. It was more than I was getting from either Coin or Plutarch.

Coin though brushes off my words and cuts me down infuriatingly quick with a single sentence. “Plutarch wanted to see Peeta earlier, talk about some propos. But when he sent for him, one of the doctors working with Peeta said he wasn’t having a good day.”

Her tone is smooth and pleasant enough but there was an undercurrent to her words that she knew I would hear. “Do you know how Peeta is? I would have thought with your waking up this morning, he’d be in better shape than he was but if you two aren’t getting-“

“Me and Peeta are fine,” I snap, not liking whatever she’s implying.

She nods, slowly at me, choosing her next sentiment carefully. “Well, let’s hope so. We need both of you now to remain the faces of this revolution. And I wouldn’t want you to do anything rash because of... problems between you and your... between you and Peeta.”

I’m shaking my head, feigning certainty, before she even finishes. “That’s not why I want to help the rebels,” I insist firmly.

“Irregardless, Miss Everdeen, we don’t have a job for you. You aren’t qualified to go into the fight and we no longer need your propos to unite the districts. Your job is done. Thank you for your help.”

And I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I’m being definitively dismissed now. Indefinitely.

I don’t make any effort to keep my cool, instead choosing to storm out of the room, slamming the door cacophonously behind me and wonder why I let that woman get to me so much. Why her words and implications slice me open like a knife.

Why no matter how much I try, I just can’t like her.

Something about her rubs me the wrong way and, once again, I wish Peeta was here with me in the room, because he of all people could understand what about Coin felt off and strange and so familiar.

I curse myself again, as I suddenly miss him even more than before.

Unable to force myself to put my focus elsewhere—especially now that Gale is surely angry too—I change directions and head towards the recovery room.

I don’t even knock before entering. I push the door open, only to find him sitting on top of his bed, a sketchbook in hand, a lot more tranquil than I pictured.

He looks up as I enter—and then, simultaneously freeze in the doorway, like the coward I truly am inside. Before he can speak though, I blurt out, “I know you’re mad about me kissing Gale and I don’t know how much you saw or heard, but it wasn’t... it wasn’t exactly...” I stop because once again, I’m unprepared and out of my element and have no rhyme or reason in what I’m trying to say. I don’t know the right thing to say. I never know the right thing to say.

Maybe if I did, I wouldn’t screw always everything up. “It wasn’t,” I finally force myself to continue, off his patient and somewhat bewildered glance. “It wasn’t what I wanted... I didn’t want it to happen. I don’t, I don’t even know what-“

He finally puts me out of my misery now. “Katniss,” he speaks my name along with a sigh. I watch carefully, feeling a lump build in my throat, as his blonde brows furrow over his baby blues.

He shakes his head, slow and calm. Far more reasonable than I ever anticipated. “I’m not mad at you, Katniss,” he promises, with all the genuineness in the world.

I bite my lip, befuddled by his words. “But... where have you been then?” Why did you leave me? A small voice in the back of my mind demands.

He shrugs, his gaze falling down to his bed now. His demeanor is almost embarrassed, I realize with a start.

“I wanted to give you and Gale space. I’ve been practically mauling you since you woke up so I thought-“

“But I didn’t want you to leave,” I abruptly burst out, unable to shove the words down any longer.

A pang of embarrassment shoots through me though, for the pathetic crack, evident in my tone. And I mentally berate myself.

Not for the embarrassment. For the pathetic crack itself.

And for the fact that somehow I’m the frenzied one here and Peeta is the voice of reason.

Which used to be our norm but after everything that’s transpired, I would have thought things would be reversed by now.

He just stares at me for a long moment, carefully considering his next words.

Finally, he opens his arms slowly and utters, “Come here,” in a tender murmur and I practically fly into his arms before I can second guess the offer.

I feel my injured side screaming as I curl up like a ribbon in his arms, but I surpress the wince to the best of my ability and instead bury my face in his shoulder, breathing in his sweet scent like a mad girl.

He softly presses his lips to my messy locks, carefully massaging the back of my head soothingly. “I’m sorry I ran away,” he whispers, barely loud enough for even me to hear. “I was just embarrassed. I know—I’ve always known deep down—that it’s not right for me to constantly hold you to the things you said in the games. Or to project my own feelings onto you.”

“You didn’t,” I refute venomously, my brows knitting together.

“Katniss, I know you and Gale have had something between you for a long time.”

“Gale was just a friend until me and you came back from our first games. Maybe he wanted to be more even before, I don’t know, but I never felt anything romantic for him. I swear.”

“You don’t have to defend your feelings to me,” he states softly.

“I know, it’s just...” I sigh, moving to sit upright across his thighs. “No matter what I do, it’s wrong. If I say I’m confused, you’re both hurting. If I say I want to kiss you or sleep with you or just be with you, I’m leading you on because I can’t-I can’t make any promises about my feelings right now, because I don’t even know up from down anymore. And if I say I do or don’t want to kiss Gale or be around him or hunt with him still, I’m hurting him or giving him the wrong idea or telling him the wrong things, and it all gets confused and there’s an entire rebellion that I’m the face of, and now I don’t even know if I’m a part of that, but Snow and his followers all hate me still so I know family still won’t be safe until this is all over. And you. You and Johanna and Annie went through the ringer over me. And Gale gets upset whenever he sees us together—it hurts him to see us—but I can’t always seperate you two from one another and I just-I don’t know what I can do. I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Peeta lets me rant the whole entire spiel out, his hand slowly moving in circles to rub my back, from the top of my spine down to my backside. “Katniss,” he whispers once I’m done. “You don’t have to defend yourself to me. I get it. You’re under immense pressure. The last thing I want to do is make things harder on you.”

“You’re not,” I say, shaking my head insistently. “You’re not making anything worse, Peeta. It’s-it’s not you.”

“Okay,” he concedes and unconsciously wraps me up tighter in his arms. “Just relax, okay? Relax and breathe.”

I quiver and quake against him. “I don’t think I can.”

I barely realize I’m crying until Peeta leans down to kiss my tearstained cheek softly. “Katniss, it’s okay. I’m not mad. And Gale shouldn’t be. If he is, then that’s on him. The rebellion isn’t just your responsibility. Do not let them put all that weight on your shoulders. I know they already have but it’s not all your responsibility. And no one is going to let anything happen to your mom or sister.” He pushes my hair away from my forehead, pressing his lips there for a long moment. “Or you. I promise I will not let anything else happen to you.”

I swallow hard as he rests his forehead against my temple. I squeeze my eyes shut in hopes that it will make my head stop spinning somehow. Deep breaths to center myself fail miserably and in the end, I feel my bruised ribs and lung disagree with the movement and ache worse than before.

Peeta feels me cringing against him in pain and remains careful as he shifts, reaching for something off his bedside table.

I’m in too much pain to react as pushes off my robe and tugs my hospital gown down in order to slide against my skin, his hand holding it firmly to my side.

The icy temperature brings some sort of relief to me almost instantly, and I let out an audible sigh of relief, feeling my rigid body relax even a minuscule amount for the first time.

“I don’t blame you for having feelings for Gale,” Peeta murmurs, drawing my attention back to our conversation and away from my painful left side. “And if you want to be with him, I won’t hold it against you. I’m not going to lie, I’d be ... sad but... it doesn’t mean I wouldn’t still be your friend. It doesn’t mean I wouldn’t still be at jere for you however you needed me. There’s no ultimatums here, Katniss. I’m still here for you, even if you’d rather be with Gale.”

I pause for a long moment, absorbing his words. He’d be willing to be my friend, even if I hurt him? Even if I chose someone else over him? Even after everything we went through, even after all the ways he’d been abused because Snow could see how much I care for him? How much I need him. He’s still willing to put it all aside and be there for me, no strings attached.

And I try not to compare but my brain draws the conclusion almost involuntarily, and I can’t stop myself from realizing that, in the same position, Gale would likely not be telling me the same thing.

I burrow my face deeper in his shoulder, shutting my eyes in exhaustion.

Peeta catches me off-guard, moving my hair aside to kiss my neck, eliciting a flare of heat in the place where his lips brush my skin, and I may not know exactly how I feel, but I know in that moment exactly what I want right now.

“The only person I want to be with tonight is you,” I whisper honestly, looking up at him with pleading eyes, begging him to somehow understand an emotion I don’t know how to admit. “The only person I want right now is you, Peeta.”

#everlark #thg #hunger games #my writing #asks 🦋 #everlurked 🌸✨

[kbsd]

not sure if you’ve answered this before, but what’s your process look like when you make an amv? i’m just curious and in constant awe of ppl who can make videos like you do :)

hello all!!! i have answered this before and i have a vid help tag with other asks i’ve gotten about stuff like this! but i’ve gotten several more messages along these lines so i’m just going to answer a bunch of them together (under a cut since i love to ramble about editing lol). i do just wanna say i’m definitely not the authority on video editing and obv everyone has their own techniques!

edit: i just finished typing all this up and it’s SO long so sorry in advance LMAO god bless anyone who reads this entire thing

so i work in news tv and we have a very specific workflow for writing scripts, sourcing video, producing, and editing. i’ve just applied that to making amvs! for every video i make, i copy the song lyrics into a google doc and adjust them to match the song i’ve cut (i often will trim songs for time and/or content purposes). then i start planning! i’ll mark down what clip i want to use for each lyric next to that line, and any sound bites i want to use (with episode numbers!). i’ll color code between video and sound bites and lyrics, so my scripts end up looking something like this (for my honeybee amv):

doing the planning ahead of time makes everything much easier when it’s a video that spans the whole show or involves a lot of sourcing, like honeybee or sports analogies. that way when i get to the actual editing process, i already know what i’m going to do and have a game plan. for videos like happy ending or believe it or not, where i’m mainly just pulling from a few episodes, i can just plan it in my head as opposed to writing it all down, and produce as i edit. obviously i do make in-the-moment decisions while editing—sometimes a shot doesn’t work the way i thought it would, or i go where the video takes me—but planning ahead definitely helps. i know some people use spreadsheets as well, with columns for lyrics, video clips, and sound bites if applicable. once you find a system that works, it actually goes pretty quickly.

as for sourcing clips themselves/finding clips within episodes, i talked about that here and kind of here. the short version is that transcripts are a must, and the supernatural wiki is hugely helpful by cataloguing all the hugs, prayers, phone calls, etc. in the show. gifmakers that tag episode numbers on their posts are your friends. it gets easier the more video you make—that’s another huge reason i make the google docs for each video (even the ones i plan in my head, i end up going back and making a loose script with episode notes just for reference). if i can’t remember where something is but i know i used it in another video, i can easily reference past scripts!

i also cut all my videos in the same project in premiere pro, so i can flip between them easily. instead of checking a past script, i can just go to the video sequence itself and copy the clip i’m looking for! this was especially helpful when i match cut together the 5x18 and 4x22 wall slam shots for my bestie video, and then stole it from myself for honeybee hahaha. at any given time i have at least 8 sequences open:

because of the sheer volume of videos i make, it’s worth it for me to download the entire show—i have all 327 episodes in HD, plus deleted scenes. if you think you’re only going to make a few videos, i’d start with scene packs. you can usually just google “destiel [or whatever ship/character you’re looking for] scene packs” and there will be any number of ones you can download. if you need other specific scenes, you can always download/torrent individual episodes or screen record netflix (that’s what i did before i got HD download links). i’m happy to share my links if you DM, but be warned it’s a lot of disk space (about 500GB on my hard drive). someone also compiled every destiel scene, downloadable here.

having every episode already loaded in premiere for all my projects also makes it a lot easier to source clips. once i use a clip in a video, i’ll put a marker on the episode file, so that after a while i have most of the important scenes/lines marked to easily find them. to give you an idea, this is my episode file in premiere for 12x10 lily sunder has some regrets (markers at destiel scenes, the car fight, hot girl cas, etc.). markers are the green tabs along the bottom:

premiere also lets you color code and name markers, so ONE DAY i will go back and color code them all. the ones above are all the same color, but in a perfect world, i’d have a myraid—for destiel shots like hugs, touches, looks; for important pieces of dialogue; for action shots; etc. but for now this works ok for me, so that’s a project for another time!

between detailed scripts, one giant premiere project, markers, the wiki, and my own memory, i have so many points of reference that i can usually find any clip i need in about 2 minutes max. sound bites are often harder to start out, or tiny specific shots i haven’t used before, and that’s when i turn to tumblr gifsets or beloved mutuals to crowdsource. but if you’re as obsessive about marking/keeping neat scripts as i am, it gets easier and easier with every video you make. that’s part of why i’m able to cut videos together so quickly. (also i want to stress i do this for a living and have to produce/edit a new piece for my show every day so i’m used to it. and compared to constantly updating content/sources and news that changes every day, 327 highly documented episodes that never change are much easier to handle hahaha)

this is all great for me since i make so many videos and plan to continue doing so, but if you’re only making a few, this level of work isn’t worth it imo. really it’s all about developing a system that works for you. whatever you do with episodes/sourcing, though, i cannot recommend planning things out in a script ahead of time enough. 

everything i just mentioned is producing, though. for the editing process, i usually do it in this order:

music first. any parts i want to cut, i make sure it all sounds smooth

then soundbites. i usually try to weave them into the lyrics—i have characters talk in breaks between lines or instrumental sections as much as possible. i’ll sometimes go so far as looped/extending an intsrumental part to make room for the soundbite i want there lol. if i do have dialogue over a line, i do the sound mixing/levels at this point as well to make sure everything is audible/one doesn’t overpower the other. (also i always include the video that goes with these bites when i drop them in, and decide later if i want to show the character speaking or have other clips cover the dialogue)

once i have all the audio locked in, then i bring in all my other video clips. sometimes i edit completely chronologically, sometimes jumping from section to section—it depends on the song or how i’m feeling

double check sound mixing. i usually listen to my videos through a few times, with headphones and without to make sure it’ll sound good no matter how people watch it

once i have picture and audio lock, i go through and color correct my clips. i’m basic and just use lumetri color in premiere, and usually just play with brightness, saturation, temperature, and tint until i like it

render and export! :)

i always have several audio tracks, but i try to keep my video tracks condensed. i’ll drop clips on a V2 level, and edit a section there, and drop the whole chunk down to V1 so i know it’s finished. that way when i leave and come back i can know where i left off/what’s done/etc. to give you an idea, this is the timeline for my what the hell video:

i always render as H.264 with high bitrate, and make sure to check “render at maximum depth” and “use maximum render quality” for the best quality. i’m sorry, but i don’t know what the equivalent options are in final cut, imovie, kdenlive, etc. i post on youtube mostly so i don’t have to sacrifice quality, but usually just using a lower bitrate will get you under the tumblr file size limit and it’ll still look good.

as for the anon who asked about “polishing”: first of all, thank you!! second of all, it’s in the details. all of this is a matter of taste and my own insanity, but here are some little things i always try to do:

after i color correct, i blur out any credits from the starts of episodes. i use gaussian blur for this, but really any blur tool works

as much as possible, i avoid clips where we see a character’s mouth move but don’t hear the words. in tv/film we call it “lip flap” and i just think it looks messy. also i’m trained to avoid it at all costs at work hahaha. it’s more for serious videos that this matters a lot to me (e.g. i think i did a really good job eliminating lip flap in my happy ending amv)—for comedy videos i don’t sweat it as much

i put audio fades on the start and end of every single audio clip i use, even if i don’t think i need it, to make sure everything sounds smooth

i use markers for timing, especially in action-y videos like what the hell. i’ll put a marker on the clip i’m using at the exact moment a punch lands, and in the song on the beat. if i have the magnet/snap in timeline tool on i can just easily snap them together instead of having to spend time finagling it

this is such a small thing but i dip/cut to black for a tiny bit at the start and end of every video. this way if i post with tumblr video player, there’s black between the loops, and it gives you a beat before the video restarts. i do this even on videos i post on youtube, just because i think it looks nicer/more professional

this is 1,500 words so i’m going to stop myself before i pull something. if you have follow-up questions feel free to ask and i’ll continue to add them to the vid help tag, but any more questions about sourcing clips or my process in general i’ll just link this post going forward. anyone who made it this far, i am sending to a telepathic kiss. thank you for reading and happy editing!

#i typed this all up at 4am so i'm just scheduling it to post sometime today #ask #vid help

[writing-with-olive]

Figuring out what a scene edit is going to look like specifically (especially for scene rewrites)

When it comes to individual scenes, there’s a number of routes you can take with editing. Some involve smaller changes - rewriting pieces here and there to help patch up characterization issues or awkward flow. Others involve completely rewriting the scene to account for larger changes made elsewhere in the story. 

The first steps in my method involve looking at my outline; figuring out what the scene’s coming before and after, and what it needs to accomplish. Oftentimes I’ll have written out notes regarding more scene-specific details I need to pay attention to, so I review those.

Then comes what I like to call the pre-edit. This is where I go through the scene as it appeared in my first draft and mark it up with notes to refer to when I’m editing the scene. Common notes include: 

Cut - for anything ranging from paragraphs to sentences to even an entire page

Clean up - basically if there’s paragraphs that are just hard to read, I’ll keep in mind for the rewrite that I need to make that section a little more streamlined. Sometimes it’s awkward wording or weird grammar, other times it’s meandering paragraphs or places where I just loop back around and around the same ideas multiple times.

NO - this is usually accompanied by something a bit more specific, but it’s usually if something is blatantly wrong in the context it’s being used, it’s melodramatic, or it’s out of character.

Show ___ - for anything I sort of glossed over in the first draft that needs to be dramatized. 

Keep - I usually reserve this for at most a sentence or two, but it’s for when I’ve got a visual or metaphor that I really like and think I can make work in the new version of my scene.

Voice - for places where a character speaks in a way they really shouldn’t, or if my narrative voice slipped into something weird.

Formatting - I often see places where I have weird sentences or I need to make paragraph breaks or I spelled something wrong. For the developmental edit, these aren’t of much consequence, but if I come across something, I’ll make a note of it and move on rather than blatantly ignore it (it just kinda feels weird to me). This is one of those notes where you could completely skip it for now and you’d be fine. 

While pre-editing the whole manuscript in one go (as opposed to flipping between rewriting scenes and doing pre-edits) could be faster, I find that it’s easier to do pre-edits with the context of my newly rewritten scenes. Also, breaking it into chunks means I view the scenes in a much more fluid nature. Aka, I can rearrange pieces of several individual scenes in and amongst each other far more easily. Experiment with what works best for you :)

Next step: rewrite the scene. Depending on how clean your drafts are, you may not have to do this. However, since I had a major learning curve over the course of writing my first draft, a lot of the writing comes off as amateurish enough that I’ve rewritten all (save for one) of my scenes, at least during my first pass. Rewriting means I’m a lot more inclined to really get into the character’s heads and write them more accurately, and I don’t have much of an excuse for not changing little things as I pass them. I find I can get much more substantial changes this way. Basically, for rewrites, have either a printed copy of your scene, or go split-screen and write the scene while constantly going over your pre-edit notes. 

For scenes that don’t need a complete overhaul, and that you don’t want to completely rewrite, go through the most troublesome parts and alter them as you see fit. What this looks like is pretty dependent on the nature of the scene, so I won’t be able to tell you specifically what to do, but the problems you discovered and made note of during pre-edits should be enough to guide you along.

#writing #editing #amediting #writing advice #editing advice #writers on tumblr #writeblr #writing reference #amwriting #scene #scene structure #developmental edits #voice edits #formatting #killing you darlings #rewriting scenes #how to edit #first draft #second draft #olive's writing vibes