#and a whole bunch of good artists and writers

[bennyden]

User hamatoanne's fic plagiarism

Hello, I’m the author of The Android, an AO3 Robot OC x Reader fic that was plagiarized by hamatoanne on Tumblr in her Aemond x Reader story, System Error. You can read my AO3 post for more info about the issue. As you can tell by the timestamps on AO3 and the screenshots of her now-deleted story, mine was posted months before hers. I didn’t want to make this public, but it appears Anne has not learned her lesson and is grasping at straws to keep her readers in the dark. She’s been deleting her stories to hide evidence of her plagiarism. I think you deserve to know who your beloved writer gets her words from.

I don’t know this fandom, but I’ve heard you guys can get pretty crazy. Control yourselves. The only one who needs to take responsibility is Anne. Don’t send hate to her mutuals. Don’t send hate to her followers. Don’t stalk or harass or dox anyone. Read through this post and form your opinion.

First bunch of screenshots: A side-by-side comparison of her story (now deleted) and mine (still up and linked above). I took screenshots in advance in case something like this happened so I’d have proof if I needed it. I decided to compare the first chapter of my fic with the first part of hers. I could do the whole thing, but I’m a busy college student and I think just a quick skim of the pictures below is enough for people to see the extent of her plagiarism. 

I have screenshots of her entire post, but I don’t want to make this too long to scroll through and Tumblr posts cap at 30 pictures. I’m assuming some of you have already read her story multiple times, so you’re familiar with the words. If you haven’t, then I should warn you that the fic that she plagiarized is very not SFW. I’ll let you know where the not SFW content starts so you can skip it. 

On the left is my story. On the right is what Anne posted (and took down).

Not SFW content starts here. 

Not SFW content over.

Finally, I DM’ed her. This was just before I posted to The Android on AO3 about the situation. To summarize, I wrote about how I would go about the situation and how hurt I was about a bigger creator stealing from me. I admit, I was too kind and too much of a pushover. I just wanted things to go quietly. She later replied with this and deleted her fic immediately. 

“I was completely stupid for not giving your credit” Why do they always play dumb? You copy that much and can’t even think to put my name there? You credit the artist but not the person who basically wrote your whole story? The story that gave you over 3k notes, so much more clout than any of your other stories has earned you? Total BS.

“I had every intention of giving credit where it was due…But I forgot” Right. Sure. Of course. If she felt guilty about plagiarizing, she would not be so shameless to accept praise like she did. I have examples of where she happily thanked people for complimenting "her work”, but didn’t want to bring other blogs into this, especially since they were none the wiser to her plagiarism. Ironically enough, someone even gifted her a badge for being a good writer the day she replied to my DM. She tagged that post “#a breath of fresh air on a horrible day”. I wonder why her day was horrible. Whoever gifted her that badge deserves their money back.

My thoughts when approaching her DMs were:

If she wants to keep up the story? Fine, just edit the post to say that it was heavily influenced by my story and leave a link to the original. I don’t mind. The readers will see that, click my story, compare the two, and think, “Hey, that’s not just inspiration! She plagiarized!” and her downfall would start from there without me having to do anything.

If she ignored me and didn’t fulfill that request, i would take matters into my own hands and expose her on her own post. Even more damaging.

In the end, she chose to delete the post entirely, getting rid of the evidence and her clout. I actually didn’t expect this outcome since I thought she’d like the clout too much, but I guess she decided this route would be the least damaging to her reputation. Everything was swept under the rug for now. 

And like a fool, I said thanks and went on with my life. But I decided to keep track of her. Because while I was too cowardly to do anything, I knew there would always be someone in the crowd who would take action. And it seems like people did. 

After reading the supportive comments from readers of my fic, I started to regret how lightly I handled it. I wanted to be mature even though I wanted her entire blog to fall and her reputation taken away. But I didn’t want to be a “bad person”. I wondered if I should keep pursuing the issue. I realized that my overly-people-pleasing behavior might lead her to continue her ways. I decided to speak out because others might’ve had their works taken by her and that my silence wasn’t helping. 

Next is her post, now deleted (I wonder why), about how she’s been so sad and how she’s going to be deleting her old stories and starting over. I’m likely not the only one she’s plagiarized from if she’s deleting other stories. At the time, I only saw supportive replies and reblogs on it, but maybe she deleted it after people started calling her out? Idk.

She’s playing the victim game pretty hard. Acting as a kind underdog even though she’s the big creator who stole from a nobody like me. I know I said on my AO3 update that people shouldn’t send hate to her (and even censored her name after she deleted her story) but I guess I’m a little happy that people sought to call her out on her shit. I wish I was as brave. 

Later, a nice person (we’ll call her Bob because she asked to remain anonymous) DM’ed me directly with a kind message. After seeing this, I decided I should take action and expose all of this since Anne obviously hasn’t learned and wants to keep it all hidden. Bob confirmed that I’m not the only victim of Anne’s plagiarism either.

Bob asked that I not use screenshots of our DM’s so here is a transcription of the important parts:

“Hey! I just found out that one of your fics had been plagiarized by someone in the HOTD community. First of all, I am tremendously sorry that happened…”

(For Bob’s privacy, I won’t explain her relation to Anne. Just know that Anne has refused to message her back).

“I definitely think you should make a blog post. with side by side comparison. I am still completely gobsmacked that she pilfered your entire story word for word and changed a few things. We found evidence that she had plagiarized multiple stories. Not just yours. We found out her mermaid!aemond fic was entirely stolen as well as a few others. She has quietly deleted them and hasn't spoken on them since.”

“We surmised that she takes ‘underrated’ fics from different fandoms and changes the name and that's it. It's almost like she believed that stealing from other fandoms was going to draw less attention than stealing directly from the HOTD fandom.”

So if you noticed that one of your favorite Aemond fics is gone, now you know why.

‘But benny, she still wrote her own sentences and just changed it around to fit aemond!’

Fanfiction is transformative. You know what the source material is and who created it. You know you’re not reading a copied and pasted text with maybe some words and sentences switched around. This wasn’t fanfic. According to Google, plagiarism is defined as, “the practice of taking someone else's work or ideas and passing them off as one's own.” (See what I did there? I credited Google. Is it so hard to give credit where credit is due?) She copied people's work, didn't give credit to the source material, and claimed it as her own. That's plagiarism.

I wouldn’t have had a problem if she properly credited me and linked the original story. I wouldn’t have had a problem if she didn’t blatantly copy and paste the entire text and premise. I wouldn’t even require getting permission to write a story based on my fic if she had satisfied those conditions.

She’s a 27-year-old grown-ass woman with enough free time to simp over some blond guy with an eyepatch. I’m a 21-year-old college student who only posts fics during the summer and winter because that’s when school’s on break. I’m too busy writing lab reports and essays to be an active writer online. The fact that she can disrespect smaller writers so tremendously should not be acceptable. The fact that she also deceived her devoted readers and friends about her "works" is also unacceptable.

What can you do about this? To be honest, I don’t know what to do. I’ve never had to deal with this before. I want to be a good person and say, “Don’t send any hate to Anne, don’t harass her. Just unfollow her and stop supporting her.” But that obviously hasn’t taught her anything. She’ll just make a half-assed apology, maybe go on hiatus, maybe disappear, and then pop up again under another name to steal from another creator. If you have any ideas on how to deal with this, please tell us. 

She can try to block me or delete her posts, but the evidence is out and the damage is done. Anything she does to hide this mess will only make it worse for her. I’d appreciate people bringing more awareness to this issue, especially if it can reach the eyes of others she’s taken from. 

Thanks for reading.

#aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond x reader #hotd #house of the dragon #reader fanfiction #prince aemond #plagiarism #android x reader #robot x reader #ao3 #aemond and reader smut

[avocadorablepirate]

Quiet Appreciation

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x gn!reader

Summary: headcanon - just exploring what Law would be like with an artistic S/O (I've only mentioned a few art forms).

Word Count: 725

Warnings: none (at least none that I can think of)

A/N: I had no clue what to title this so I went with something that's relatively close to the contents of this post ._.

Firstly, whether you're together or not, if he sees a bunch of art supplies that he knows you'll love, you can be sure that he's going to buy them for you. Especially if it's something he's heard you mention from time to time.

Then he'll casually give it to you like he just picked it up on a whim and didn't spend a good half an hour deliberating what type of paint, yarn, pencils, or other supplies you like. Or, he'll leave it in your room for you to find later on.

Does not want to make it seem like he put a lot of effort into it.

But when you find it and thank him in front of everyone, he can't stop the blush that creeps onto his cheeks. He'll try playing it cool like it's not a big deal, but he's definitely trying to stop himself from smiling.

If you're someone who crochets or knits, you'll sit in a corner of his room quietly working on your latest project while he works at his desk, and when he looks up to check up on you he finds it so endearing how your brows are furrowed in concentration. Sometimes, if he's tired of working he'll just come sit across from you and simply watch.

Definitely would discreetly ask you whether you could do the whole amigurumi thing, and then would go on to hint that a Bepo plushie would be pretty cute.

Also, he'd be a complete hypocrite and tell you to fix your posture while you work (like I just know Law sits/sleeps at his desk in the most uncomfortable positions). But it's only because he cares.

If you're someone who draws or paints though, he'll ask for your artistic opinion when he wants to get a new tattoo. He might just even ask you to design it for him.

Would probably keep any artwork that you give him safely in a file or somewhere on his desk where he can look at it every day.

Law would get flustered if you ask him whether you could sketch him, but he would agree since you're asking. Suddenly, he feels very shy under your focused gaze, and even though you told him he can continue doing whatever it is he's doing, he'll try his best to stay still.

If you're someone who writes (stories, poetry, etc.) the two of you would sit across from each other at his table, focused on your own work. If it gets really late he'll be sure to make you a cup of tea, and quietly place it beside you because he doesn't want to disrupt your creative flow.

Again, if he's tired he'd just sit next to you and watch you work while also trying to take a peek at what you're writing. You biting at the tip of your pen lost in thought, brings a small smile to his face.

Law would be more than happy when you ask him to read through your work. He would give you genuine feedback while also showing his appreciation for your talent.

If by any chance you're facing writer's block, he'll suggest that the crew take a day off in a nearby town, and despite being packed with work, he'll take you around in hopes of helping you find something that inspires you.

So I don't know a lot about pottery, but I think Law would be fascinated by the way you mold the clay with such ease and skill, transforming it into something incredible. I think watching you work would relax him.

When you ask him whether he would like to make something himself, he hesitates but agrees with a casual shrug, trying to hide the fact that he's been wanting to try it ever since he saw you do it. Though once he starts he's nervous because he's afraid he'll make a mess, but then your soft laugh and gentle guidance help him relax.

He secretly loves the way your hands rest over his as you direct his movements.

Overall, Law might not always show it, but he loves seeing you express yourself through art. And, though he may not explicitly say it, he's genuinely curious about what inspires you. It helps him see things from a different perspective and also gives him a glimpse into your world.

I was kinda just fantasizing about this, and thought it would be pretty cute. Like can you imagine...oof

#law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #one piece x reader #law x you #trafalgar law headcanons #one piece headcanons

[soupbitch-moneybitch]

you know what's so gd impressive about ofmd? like, maybe the most impressive part of the whole already very impressive show? how well-rounded the characters are for how little time they have to be on screen

i spent many years in the fandom of another ensemble cast show that had a million seasons and hour-long episodes, and maybe like, five of the characters were worth the time of day. ofmd, tho, not only has an incredibly quality core cast, but even the characters they introduce for five seconds manage to have depth and appeal

take ned low's crew for example. we have a bunch of people who take up maybe a third of the episode's screen time, but by the end, the script and acting are so good that you're rooting for them as they unionize and sail away to greater pastures

then you have characters that are great on their own, but also enhance the main characters in the span of like six seconds

evelyn? a godsend, 11/10, want her back, and she was the impetus for mary taking control back over her life. steak "steaky" knife? rip big man, we knew you for two minutes but loved you, and you gave us slight insight into izzy's history/influence on the republic of pirates. hornigold wasn't even really hornigold and yet we /still/ managed to get backstory about him and learn things that added context to how ed turned into blackbeard

honestly, the amount of talent it takes to be able to make almost every character on the screen someone who either 1. drives the plot forward somehow, 2. is just delightful and entertaining, or 3. is a combination of both, all within a space the size of a needle tip is fucking astonishing. as a professional writer i am horny for how well these mother fuckers hone their craft, and as a fan of the show i'm just extremely well-fed

i've said it before, but this is genuinely so much more than a gay little pirate show (although it is also that, and i love that about it). it has so much artistic depth and everyone involved has talent coming out every orifice. i am so glad i have the privilege of watching it. every part of it is so refreshing, i am genuinely in constant awe

#the fandom was the walking dead btw #i was one of three people who watched it to the end #and i watched it for literally like #two characters #do not recommend #anyway #our flag means death #ofmd #ofmd s2 spoilers #ig #diz says words

[cherries-in-wine]

A sort of rant/review (mostly negative) of the tortured poets department:

English isn't my first language so apologising in advance for the mistakes <3

I don't think ttpd would've had so much criticism if it wasn't so hyped up by swifties and Taylor herself. Folklore and Evermore are my favourite albums and because Taylor put so much emphasis on how good the songwriting of this album is i thought i was going to love it. So my expectations were a more Lana del rey or the national kind of vibe, orchestral pop or psychedelic rock and it would be like a third sister to folklore and evermore. I've noticed that Taylor's albums are all starting to sound like midnights. 1989 is such a good pop album but 1989 tv sounds midnightified especially the vault tracks sound like they belong on midnights. As much as I love Jack Antonoff as he gave us some great albums i think Taylor desperately needs a new producer. I think the album is definitely "raw" in the sense that unlike the other albums that are super put together, in order and organised, ttpd is messy like a bunch of paragraphs from her notes app thrown together, it isn't essentially a bad thing, but if you're gonna talk about how ttpd required more song writing talent than any other album, it's pretty reasonable for people to be disappointed. I thought name was a reference to joe's group chat name and kind of poking fun at that, but oh no it's an actual fuking asylum and the whole idea makes me very uneasy. The reason why folklore and evermore work is because it's not from the perspective of Taylor but rather the people she's made up in her mind and because she is such a good story teller those albums sound awesome. Something about a straight cis billionaire white woman calling herself a tortured poet in all seriousness and romaticising asylums/electroshock therapy makes me so so so uncomfortable. I understand why swifties are so defensive and protective of Taylor, with all the shit that happened with Kim and Kanye but I feel like they think she's a god that can do no wrong, which is stupid you can like an artist but still call me them out their shitty decisions. The "oh you think her singing writing is not that good why don't you write something better" is such a stupid argument, this random person criticising Taylor isn't constantly referred to as the greatest song writer of our generation, she is. I saw a post saying "the biggest burn is that most songs are about Matty Healy and not Joe Alwyn" like excuse me but if my ex that I dated for many years just starts gushing over a slimy ass Nazi racist sexist pathetic excuse of a man, I'd go "thank god good riddance". What happened to "you are what you love" Taylor?. I really like some songs, but I keep getting disgusted when It clicks who they're about. "But daddy I love him" is a great song but it's about ratty Healy fuck off ew.

I have a lot more to say but my brain isn't braining so I'll update later lol

#Taylor Swift #the tortured poets department #ttpd #anti Taylor Swift #anti matty healy #anti taylor swift #ratty healy

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

orchid

a/n: thought about splitting this one up into multiple parts, but no, you're just getting one big fic. yet again, just a daydream I had that I scribbled down, just vibes, nothing fancy. also the tiny apartment she lives in, that's just where I lived a year ago. like a ghost in the attic (also also also, I almost exclusively worked on this in the middle of the night, so if it’s not up to par with the rest of my works, I do sincerely apologise)

update: i will not write a part 2 for this story so please stop asking me! you are giving me a stomach ache 

summary: “Alright, so even though I’m not, why is it that it would be such a bad thing if I theoretically had a thing for him?”

warnings: Sirius Black x reader, modern!au, college!au, starving artist!reader, posh boy Sirius, very light enemies to lovers energy, probably extremely inaccurate country club, reader works at the country club, playing 20 questions, kissing, sexual comments and references but no actual smut in this one, alcohol consumption, a little bit of light B & E as a cute date, small tolkien reference, open ending (kinda)

word count: 6023

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

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“All right, listen up folks,” bellowed the short snappy figure of your boss, “it’s gonna get a lot busier starting today since a lot of the member's kids are coming home on break from boarding school and university and whatnot, so that means not only will there be more people to keep happy but also a lot of stressed-out parents who await the luxury that they are paying for. I expect you all to be on you’re A-game, is that clear?” 

“Yes, Mr Barrett,” echoed throughout the room like a choir.

“Good. Now get back to work everyone!” 

Just as the herd started to thin, Mr Barrett waved you over before you had a chance to slip out, “Y/l/n!”

Watching your work friends duck out before he could call upon them as well, you gave in to the newly formed reflex and said, “yes sir?”

Not lifting his eyes as you stepped closer, he kept them glued to the clipboard in his hand and ordered, “go restock all the bars.”

“Um, why? Didn’t Tim just do it last Monday?” 

“He did,” Mr Barrett finally glance up at you and explained sternly, clearly already being over this conversation, “and now I’m telling you to go do it again. Look, these folks' kids are coming home. So, trust me when I tell you that it needs to be fully stocked.” 

“Alright,” you exhaled and scurried out at the irked wave of his hand. 

You hadn’t been working here at the Millington club for that long, but even when you consider the fact that you had to mosey up to a bunch of insufferable rich folk, the paycheck was still a lot better than any other place you’d ever worked at, consequently making it tolerable.

Now balancing a heavy cardboard box jam-packed with various clanking liquor bottles, you made your way through the glamorous halls of the club, first making your way down towards the east side lounge. Glancing down at the clinking flasks, you couldn’t even begin to calculate how many months of rent you would have to give for even just one of these lavish drinks. 

As you entered the posh sitting room and made your way over towards the bar, a collection of rowdy voices caught your ear.

“No way, I don’t believe it.” 

“No, I’m telling you, mate,” you sat the box down on the marble countertop and glanced over to spot the young raven-haired man answering his friends, “it’s true, right there in the library.”

“What genre was it in?” one of the two young men asked. They were all three spread out on a few small queen Anne couches, clustered in the corner, as if they owned the whole establishment, “biography? That corner’s pretty private…”

“Um, I was a little too preoccupied to notice,” the cocky boy scoffed, “you know, with my head being all the way under her skirt and all.”

Kicking his feet up onto the mahogany coffee table in the middle, the bespeckled one in the group chuckled, “only you mister I lost my virginity in a threesome could just casually have that happen to him on a Tuesday afternoon.”

“Who was it with anyway?” the other one asked. 

Furrowing his brows, the man in the centre of the story genuinely didn’t seem to remember, “I think her name was Emma? Something like that.”

“Didn't your mother tell you it’s creepy to stare?” you flinched at the sudden and sneaky arrival of your co-worker’s familiar voice, uttering directly into your ear.

“Jesus fuck, Lucy! Don’t scare a girl like that! I could have dropped one of these,” you held up the expensive bottles in hand, then swiftly went back to putting them away. 

“Please don’t tell me you have a thing for him,” she ignored your annoyance, crossing her arms. 

“What?” was she referring to the brash handsome man you couldn’t rip your eyes away from just a second ago? “No! I don’t even know who he is.”

“Wait, you don’t know who that is? 

“No.”

“Seriously?”

“Nope.”

“That’s Sirius Black,” she told you as if the name alone was common knowledge, but then continued as the lightbulb over your head clearly didn’t turn on, “Orion Black’s oldest son?” still nothing, she tried one last time, “as in the Black automobile company? That super old posh one?”

“…the one that the royal family drives around in?”

“Ding, ding, ding!” she threw up her arms and continued to look at you as if you were an idiot. 

“Alright, so even though I’m not, why is it that it would be such a bad thing if I theoretically had a thing for him?”

“Because that man right there, gorgeous as he might be, is the biggest playboy on the planet. He doesn’t even know what the definition of a relationship is, let alone love. Y/n, I know you. You, my wonderful friend, is a relationship type of girl, not a casual sleep-around like it’s nothing type of girl. So, trust me when I say, don’t go there.”

“I wasn’t gonna!” you said defensively as she finally turned around and left you to your work. 

Bending down to open up a small cabinet, you kneeled on the polished hardwood floor and scurried to finish your work of restocking the bar.  

“Hey love,” you heard after only a minute had passed. Glancing up, you saw the very same man you had been so fixated upon earlier, casually leaning his forearm against the counter. He looked like he could have just stepped out of a ralph lauren ad with how impeccable his clothes were. 

Shooting up, nearly bumping your head on the way, you felt your heartbeat pick up as his dark eyes bored into you, “hi! Can I help you with anything?”

“Me and my mates over there were just about to go do something a little more fun than what this snooze fest has to offer,” he gesticulated, then added rather smoothly, “you look like you could use some fun, you should join us.”

“Sir, I can’t just leave,” you cocked your head, “I’m in the middle of my shift.”

“So, when do you get off?” he asked, but then as you simply averted your gaze, scrambling for a polite way to untangle yourself from this mess, he pushed, “oh, come on, I know you want to.”

Keeping your eyes low, you shook your head, “I’m not really supposed to socialise with members.”

“Ah,” he leaned in a little closer, lowering himself to your eye level, “you’re a real good girl, aren’t you?”

Eyes growing wide at his suggestive word choice, you blushed, “e-excuse me, sir?”

“I noticed the way you were looking at me,” his studying gaze didn’t waver for a second. 

“Oh, that wasn’t-“

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell if you won’t.” He then leaned in even closer, “hey,” nearly whispering into your ear and effectively sending shivers down your spine, “if it fits your schedule better, we could just go into the billiard room right now…”

“Why would we-“

“My friends can stand by the door if you’re nervous,” he interrupted once more, reaching up to push a lock of your hair behind your ear, “no one will bother us, promise.”

Completely stunned by his bold proposal, it took you a few seconds to decline, “sir. I-… I’m gonna go back to work now…” then slowly picked up the now empty cardboard box and exited the room, leaving Sirius alone to pick up the pieces. 

“She’s new… I want her.” 

That was all Sirius had uttered to his friends before making his way over to hit on the new girl, occupied restocking the bar. 

Now standing there, alone and blinking hard, not understanding why his usual charm hadn’t worked on you, he heard his friends come up behind him.

“How did it go? You meeting her in the bathroom or what?” 

“She turned me down…” he was still frozen, staring out the door you’d disappeared through, with a stunned smile on his lips and a determent glint in his eyes. His words didn’t sound unhappy, simply surprised and even a little amused. 

“That’s nice, good for your health to be turned down by a pretty face such as hers. Also means you are in fact human after all,” Remus pulled out his box of cigarettes and swiftly tugged one into the corner of his lips to lite it, “so, that’s nice to know…” noticing the look in Sirius’s eye, “come on,” he wrapped an arm around his neck, “we’ll just go out tonight. Get you nice and pussy drunk. That’ll make you forget her in no time, promise.” 

“Funny seeing you here,” you didn’t even bother to look up as the slightly familiar voice found your ears. 

“Yeah,” you kept your eyes on the list in your hand just a little longer, “it’s almost like I work here or something.”

Finally glancing up, you met the intoxicatingly dark eyes of none other than Sirius Black, “you’re funny…”

“So,” you started moving along, not letting his bugging hold you back from executing your work, “is there anything I can do for you, sir?”

His long legs made it a piece of cake for him to follow along with you, “go out with me.”

Stopping your stride, you sighed, “Mr Black-”

“Please, call me Sirius,” he interrupted you with all the charm in the world.

“Mr Black, excuse me for being blunt but when will you get the hint?”

“Y/n, hey!”

This dude really doesn’t quit. 

“You know my name now,” you couldn’t stop your eyes from rolling even if you wanted to. 

“Yeah, well I asked around a bit about you. That was just one of the many tantalising facts I learned about you,” he winked, and you tried your best to ignore the butterflies that cheap trick had successfully sent fluttering throughout your stomach. 

Moving to leave the room, he swiftly blocked the door, making you see nothing but his annoying smirk, “seriously dude, what will it take for you to just leave me alone?”

“Go out with me,” he shrugged lightly and crossed his arms. 

“No.”

“Why not?”

Feeling like you might explode if he didn’t get out of the way, you exclaimed, “because I’m not I’m not gonna sleep with you!” your eyes grew a bit wider at the proclamation you’d let slip out.

“Oh really?” he simply smiled, clearly just taking it as another challenge. 

Squeezing your eyes shut, you hoped that the conversation would get less uncomfortable if you couldn’t see his jaw-dropping visage anymore, “yeah, I’ve heard what people say about you.”

Completely loving it, he clearly took that as a good thing, “really?”

“Yeah, well it’s like a fucking ghost story around here, so I didn’t have much of a choice. You’re just that kind of guy and that’s fine! But you just need to know, all that charm, it won’t work on me, so you might as well just turn around now. I am not just gonna be another notch in your belt, another hot new little thing for you to pass the time with, okay?”

Eyes still shut, you thought for a second he had left with how long he took to answer you, “okay, fine.” 

“Fine?” you finally blinked your eyes open.

“Fine,” he smiled, “I won’t sleep with you.” 

“Great!” you threw up your arms and moved to exit the room, though he stepped in front of you again, leaning down to be at your height.  

“I mean, it’s probably gonna be really hard for you to resist after the date I’ve got planned out, but sure, if you don’t want to.” 

Gnawing the corner of your bottom lip for but a moment, you gave out, “if I say yes to go on a date with you, one date, will you leave me alone?” 

Face only inches from your own, his smile grew wider as he agreed, “deal.”

“Mr Black! Welcome back, sir,” not only the security guard but also an older gentleman in a crisp suit had greeted you both at the entrance of the unusually vacated museum, “enjoy your evening.”

“Thank you, Henderson,” Sirius politely shook his hand before planting it on the small of your back, guiding you further inside. 

Glaring up at him as if he was an alien, he finally questioned your gaze, “what?”

“What are we doing in here?” you spoke in a near whisper, “the museum closed like 2 hours ago.”

“Yeah, well,” he shrugged, climbing the big stone steps that lead up towards the first exhibit, “my family’s a big donator to this place, so I just pulled a few strings.”

Fighting the urge to roll your eyes, you simply followed him into the first breathtaking room and breathed out, “okay…”

Even if the company was somewhat challenging, you couldn’t deny how the beauty hung up all around you made the evening at least tolerable. Your little art heart was too weak not to swoon at the sight of all the impressionistic pieces that were on display in this season's unique exhibit. Iconic pieces you could have only dreamed about studying this close. 

After a surprisingly long while where Sirius miraculously shut up and simply let you roam and relish in the paintings, you took a deep breath and decided to actually make the smallest of efforts to test if your companion did in fact have any more depth than a teaspoon. 

“So,” you started as he settled in beside you, his dark eyes washing over the landscape in front of you, “you’re home from uni for a bit?”

“Yep,” he buried his hands in the pockets of his black trousers, “oxford.”

You felt so strong for not just bolting in the opposite direction. “You’re an oxford man?” you scoffed, “should have figured…”

“Like my father was and his father before him,” he added rather coldly, sounding like this was a rehearsed reply that pained him to recite. 

“What do you study?”

“Business,” he kept his answer short. 

“Oh yeah?” you glanced over, trying to break through and see if his outsides matched his insides, “is it fun?” 

Brows furrowing, he turned to meet your gaze, “what does that have to do with it?”

“You don’t enjoy your major?”

“It’s just,” he inhaled deeply, uncomfortably trying to end this specific chat, “school, you know?”

“No, I actually don’t,” you informed him, slowly moving towards the next painting. 

“No?” he followed. 

“I don’t go to school,” you informed. 

“You don’t?” 

“No.”

“Oh, okay…” he averted his gaze, but still felt the need to explain his confusion, “I knew you liked art, so I just kinda assumed that you went to school for that or something…”

“Why bother paying a ridiculous amount of money in order to learn about something that I’m already really good at? No one is gonna deny me the right to create art just because I don’t have some fancy degree in it. If it’s a masterpiece, then it’s a masterpiece.”

“Yeah, I guess so…” you could tell how foreign your words were to him, “so that’s what you do for a living? You paint?” 

“It doesn’t pay the bills, but that’s not really the point now is it?” you reflected with a small smile, “just because it’s what I do doesn’t mean I earn a large profit from it, if any at all.”

For a moment, he just went quiet, staring at the many paintings with a slightly glossed-over look in his eyes. You were trying to catch his glances, read what it was that was going on inside that head of his, but your timid attempt at finding a new topic to blossom suddenly became the most effortless task in the world the second that he casually rolled his sleeves all the way up to his elbows.

“Wait, you have tattoos?” tumbled out of you as soon as you spotted the ink. 

“Yeah,” he gave a small shrug. 

“How did I not know that?” you asked, sounding genuinely interested. 

“Guess my pretty face was just a bit too distracting for you to notice,” he winked, regaining a bit of his usual confidence, “do you have any?”

“Yeah, a few. Though they’re just some stick-and-poke ones one of my friends gave me.”

“Aw, my first tattoo was a stick-and-poke one! I was 15 and it was at boarding school in the bathroom,” he remembered fondly. 

“Oh yeah? Your parents must have loved that,” you chuckled. 

“Oh, they don’t know.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, well, clothing can hide a lot and they only really see me a handful of days out of the year anyways, so… what they don’t know won’t hurt them.” 

Maybe he wasn’t so terrible after all… After finding a sliver of common ground, the rest of the conversation just flowed after that, making the remainder of the evening not just tolerable, but even enjoyable. 

Nearing the end of the tour, you felt his shoulder lightly bump yours, “you like it?” ripping you out of the trance the art piece in front of you had induced. 

“I mean, it’s a Monet,” you gestured towards it, finding his question a bit silly, “I think it’s physically impossible not to like it.”

“Darling, I wasn’t talking about the painting,” he clarified, smiling warmly down at you.

“Oh,” you looked up at him and couldn’t help but be blatantly honest, even if it meant that you had been wrong, “yeah, I guess it wasn’t half bad…” then cast your vision back on the painted pond and added as casually as you could muster, “but we are so not doing anything like this next time.”

“Next time?” 

“I swear to god,” you sighed, shutting your eyes, “if you don’t shut up in less than two seconds, I won’t hesitate to change my mind. You were just starting to grow on me.”

“Yes, ma’am, wouldn’t dream of it, I’m just standing here, looking at the art,” you heard him smile and peeped your eyes open to find him boldly still staring at you. 

“You sure we’re allowed to be up here?” Sirius asked, following you up the last bit of the clinking metal staircase in the seemingly abandoned factory you’d without context dragged him into. 

“Oh, don’t tell me that you're scared,” you playfully glanced over your shoulder at him, “doesn’t your daddy’s lawyer always bail you out of all the shady fun you and your friends get into?”

“Who exactly do you think we are?” he scoffed lightly, though didn’t deny your claim.  

“So, you’ve never committed a petty crime before? A party animal like you?”

“I have never done anything wrong in my entire life,” he shot back sarcastically. 

“Right you haven’t,” you chuckled, trying without success to bust open the rusty door, putting all your weight into it, “give me a hand, would you?” you requested breathlessly, his frame quickly following your command, stepping right up beside you, readying his shoulder and waiting for your go, “okay, one, two, three!” you both gave it a big shove, making it fly open and reveal not only the factory’s small, flat rooftop but also the most breathtaking view of the city’s skyline and the rabidly disappearing sun. 

Seemingly not impressed by the dingy surroundings, Sirius grumbled, “now do I get to know what we are doing tonight?”

“No sense of adventure…” you sighed teasingly, “I’m not telling you, you’ll have to find out yourself,” you sauntered over towards the small ledge by the section of the roof that sunk down a bit and had a bunch of vents and things. Taking a seat, you gestured to the cold concrete beside you and said, “now, sit.”

“You want me to sit?” he eyed the dirty surface mistrustingly. 

“Yeah,” you smiled, patting the spot with your fingers, “come on, you can sit on my jacket if you’re such a wuss.”

“Oh my god, fine, I’ll sit down,” he moved towards you, “just keep your jacket. Don’t want you to freeze to death.”

“You don’t? That’s reassuring to know,” you jested as he carefully took a seat beside you, dangling his long legs over the edge. 

“So… this is your big plan?” he asked, completely unimpressed, “sit on a filthy rooftop together?”

“Don’t mock when you don’t even know what it is yet,” you raised a defensive hand and then proposed confidently, “now, ask me a question.”

Furrowing his dark brows, he bit his lip in order not to stifle a laugh, “a question?”

“Yeah, you’ve got 20, so use them wisely,” you explained the childish game. 

“Oh my god…” he groaned as he caught on, although still played along, “okay, is it a thing?”

“Yes.”

His pristine hair blew in the wind as his eyes scanned the city below for clues, “is it big?”

“No.”

“Am I physically close to it?”

“Yes.”

“Can I see it?”

“No.”

“Okay, so it’s small and close by, but I can’t see it…” he recited underneath his breath, “is it, fuck, I don’t know,” he grumbled, both completely over the game yet also way too invested to just quit immediately, “your phone in your pocket?”

“Good one, but no!”

“Fuck, I don’t know! Am I even close?”

“You are closer than you might think.”

“Can I just get a little bit more of a hint?” he pouted in your direction. 

“Fine, it is within a meter of you.”

Head whipping around confused, “um, that’s literally just you. Is it you? Are you really calling yourself a thing right now?”

“No!” you snapped, slightly offended that he’d even think that, “just use your imagination for fuck sake. Don’t they teach you that at boarding school and fancy universities?”

Letting out a long exhale, he just kinda zones out a moment, genially scrambling for the answer and scanning every visible inch of you. “…I truly don’t know,” he then squinted his eyes at you, “was this some sort of test? Did I fail it?”

“No, calm down,” you pulled your backpack around to the front, ripping the biggest compartment open and fishing out a bottle of bargain beer for the both of you, “here,” you handed him one.

“What is this, a price for losing?” 

“No, that was the thing,” you placed the corner of the bottle’s cap up against the hard edge below you and gave it a swift tap, effectively popping it off and sending a lava flow of bubbles soaring down the dark glass and soaking your hand. 

“This was it?” he hesitated, but eventually mimicked your manoeuvre to open the lacklustre beverage. 

“Yep,” making the last letter pop as you raised the bottle up towards your lips. 

“You’re terrible at twenty questions,” he chuckled, taking a small sip. 

“You’re the one who couldn’t figure the answer out!”

“Yeah, because there was no way I was ever going to be able to figure that out! You can’t just be like Bilbo and ask for a person to guess what’s in your pocket, it has to be something the other person would be able to figure out.”

“That’s never how I played it, but if you wanna go again, play by your rules, then go right ahead, I’ll guess this time.” 

After the last of the beers, you’d brought with you were a thing of the past, after several rounds of that child-like play had flown by, the harsh chime of his phone interrupted your guessing of what you were pretty sure was the small spire visible in the horizon before you. 

Like a reflex, he fished it out of his pocket, and you watched as the soft smile quietly vanished from his features as if it had never been there to begin with, snuffed out and forgotten like last season’s fashion. It hadn’t been the first time you’d witnessed his phone be a mood killer, it happened at least once whenever he had been in your presence. 

“What is it?” you asked, tossing the game to the side to make room for the growing concern you simply couldn’t ignore any longer. 

“It’s nothing,” you watched his face twitch slightly as he read the message that plainly bothered him. Taking a deep breath, he tugged it away in his jacket and circled back to the quickly forgotten game, “you, um, still have 4 more questions till you run out-”

“Sirius,” you cut him off, determined to figure out what was troubling him, “who was that?” not giving you an answer, he simply averted his gaze. “I’m not gonna tell anyone, if that’s what you’re worried about. Who do you think I know that I could spill all of your deep dark secrets to? My neighbour Mary who’s about 90? Oh yeah, she would have a field day, if she actually remembers to put her hearing aid in,” you joked, in an effort to get him to relax and open up, “come on, you can tell me.”

After a good long moment of him thoroughly biting his inner cheek, he finally spoke, “it was my dad. He wanted to remind me that I’m supposed to start sitting in on meetings beginning by tomorrow. Start doing my part for the family business and finally grow up. He wants me to follow in his footsteps. And I know that it must sound fascinating, running a huge company like that, but it truly isn’t. It’s just a bunch of long boring meetings with boring money-hungry people talking about boring numbers. It has absolutely nothing to do with the cars themself.”

“And that’s not what you want?” you asked softly. 

“That’s not the point,” he uttered, sounding downright exhausted. 

“Isn’t it? Do you want to follow in his footsteps?”

Staring out into nothing, he slowly let the truth slip out past his lips, “no...” the tiny word instantly hitting him like a truck, “fuck. I’ve never actually said that out loud before… I don’t wanna do that… I don’t know what it is that I want to do, but I sure as hell know it isn’t that. I don’t wanna become another soulless businessman like my father.”

“Can I ask you something?” you asked him gently. 

“Sure.”

“Why are you still studying business if you know that’s not what you wanna do?”

Exhaling heavily, “because I think what scares me even more than this future they’ve got all mapped out for me is the unknown. I don’t know what will happen if I hop off the train, but at least I know what it looks like inside and I know where it’s headed.”

Without giving it a second thought, you reached out and took his hand in yours. 

“You’ll get off. Might not be today, but someday you will.”

A soft smile spread across his lips as the stressful thoughts slowly melted away with the aid of your touch and he turned his attention back to the date. “I gotta admit, this wasn’t at all what I expected.”

“What did you think? That I was gonna take you to dinner at a michelin restaurant? Some day you will learn that money can’t buy you everything. I mean, just look at that view,” you nodded towards the blushing skies above, the sun now nearly disappeared down behind the many roofs of the city. 

“Yeah,” he breathed, not taking his eyes off of you for a second, “it’s beautiful.”

Not soon thereafter, when the dark night started to bloom and the date was due to end, you took him up on his adorably chivalrous offer and let him walk you back home. However, when you reached the outside of your building, he wasn’t the only one anymore that wasn’t ready to part ways yet. When you fumbled with the keys and he eagerly asked, “could I maybe walk you all the way in to your front door?” all you did was nod, because right now in this very moment, just one more minute of his charm was all you desired. 

“Just what floor did you say you lived on?” he puffed from behind you once you’d reached the third floor of the old apartment building. 

“I didn’t,” if you’d told him that you lived on the fifth floor, right underneath the roof in a tiny shoebox of an apartment, he properly wouldn’t have dared to climb the steep stairs with you. “And just because you're walking me to my door doesn’t mean you get to come inside, okay?”

“Got it.”

Even though he looked to be in phenomenal shape, you still noticed his attempt to hide how much of a tole this trek really was for him.

Once you finally reached the small dark door to your home, out of sight and out of mind down a narrow hallway, creaking it open, his eyes widened at the sight of your tiny apartment, “oh my god, that’s your apartment?” he didn’t even have to poke his head inside to be able to view every single millimetre, seeing as the whole flat in its entirety was probably the size of his bathroom. 

“That’s my apartment,” you confirmed, not finding the size as jarring as he did. 

“Is it even legal to live up here? Aren’t these attic rooms for storage or something?”

“They used to be, but now I promise it's totally above board.”

After letting out a small chuckle, he then took one last long look at you standing in the doorway, smiling warmly down at you, “I had a lot of fun tonight.”

“Yeah, me too,” you smiled, and when he then turned to take his leave, you stopped him, “hey Sirius?” still close, he turned around, “can I-, could I maybe-…”

Taking a step closer to you, he stared down at you and uttered, “what?”

“…can I kiss you?”

Not hesitating for even a second, probably just in case you would change your mind, Sirius bent down and boldly kissed you. The feel of his soft lips pressed against yours and his tongue confidently asking for entrance surprisingly didn’t increase your nerves, it minimised them. It felt oddly comfortable. Like you’d already done it a thousand times before. 

“Goodnight,” he breathed out, lingering just a little longer.

“Night.”

The persistent knocks at your door finally came to a screeching halt as you swung it open and revealed the unexpected figure of Sirius. 

“I need to talk to you,” he insisted, sounding out of breath, probably having sprinted up the stairs. 

Furrowing your brows at the less-than-warm greeting, you asked, “Sirius? What are you doing here? It’s 11 o'clock at night,” pushing past you, the small stumble he took as he crossed over the threshold didn’t manage to escape your perception, “hey, what’s going on?”

“Everything’s going on!” he bellowed, making you quickly close the door behind him and cross your fingers that the walls in your building weren’t as thin as you feared if he was going to continue at this dramatic volume. 

Whirling around to plant his unfocused eyes on you, you saw right through him and asked, “are you seriously drunk right now?”

Fully ignoring your question, he sank down onto your small couch and spoke wearily, staring out into your dimly lit home, “you messed everything up.”

“Excuse me,” you crossed your arms and closed your light robe a bit more to cover your less then modest pyjamas up, on the verge of just ripping the door open again so that you could kick him out, “I haven't done anything-”

“You messed up everything!” his unsteady eyes finally met your glare, “everything was just fine before I met you, there was a plan, a good plan,” he gesticulated with his right hand, “I didn’t see any problem with the plan till you had to show up and turn it all upside down,” you felt your heart start to sink as his intoxicated words impacted, “you ruined it all. You ruined me. For the first time in my life, the world is a truly terrifying place. It’s never been that way till you showed up,” you noticed his clenched jaw begin to quiver, “you are like a bright light, showing me just how dark my life actually is. I didn't ask for that perspective! I was perfectly fine just wandering around in the dark!”

“Sirius,” you reeled back, completely stunned by the tornado that had just interrupted your evening routine, “what are you-”

“You scare the shit out of me, Y/n,” he exclaimed, cutting your question off before it could fully form, “no girl has ever done that, except for you. Fuck, I love you! That terrifies me!” he sank down even further, nearly laying down at this point, overwhelmed by the storm brewing between his ears, “but what scares me even more is the thought of losing you.”

Completely stunned, you found your body slowly dropping down upon the mattress of your bed, sitting there at a complete loss for words, flabbergasted as you watched his low groans and curses gradually fade away until you picked up on how his breaths had slowed, and his lids had grown heavy, exhaustion snuffing him out like a flame.

Curled up on the windowsill, backlit by the morning sun, you raised your eyes from the sketchbook balanced on your bent knees, to reference the dark-haired man still passed out on your tiny couch. 

Even after you’d not so silently riffled through your pantry this morning, checking to see if you had any resemblance of a hangover cure hidden away in there, he still slept like a baby, through all the crinkly bags and accidentally dropped containers. 

Though now, as you weren’t really making any noise at all, simply emanating the silent scratching of your pen against paper, you saw him stir, inhaling sharply as he awoke.

“Morning sleepy head,” you tried to be mindful of your volume, the light wince your tone evoked from him clearly affirmed your suspicion of the horrible state the night before had put him in. 

Craning his neck to look at you, he sat up, squinting in confusion as the bright morning light washed over him, “Y/n, what, um,” his voice sounded like it had been through a meatgrinder, “what am I doing here?” 

“You don’t remember?” you sat the sketchbook down beside you but kept your seat in the window, merely shifted a bit. 

“I-… Did something happen?” his palm lifted up to shield his mouth in worry, “did we-”

“Oh my god, no,” you got what he was hinting at and quickly cut in to correct him before your cheeks had a chance to turn an even brighter shade of red, “you showed up here last night, completely wasted.”

“Oh…”

“Yelled at me for a little bit and then you kinda just passed out.”

“Fuck…” he sighed, jaw clenching from guilt, “Y/n, I’m really sorry.”

“Yeah, you should be,” you crossed your arms tightly across your chest, “what even happened last night? Were you just at some club and randomly decided to come and shout at me a bit?”

“I wasn’t out,” he shook his head, still not meeting your eye, “I was at this stupid party with my family, some fundraiser I think, and became maybe a bit too pissed and got into an argument with my dad,” taking a deep breath in, he spoke, “I told him that I’m dropping out of school and that I don’t want to take over the company.”

“Oh…” it nearly came out as a whisper. 

Taking shelter behind his hands, he lightly ran them down his face, “I’m really sorry,” he said earnestly, “I shouldn’t have bombarded you like that. I don’t remember what I said, but you don’t deserve any of it.”

Every word he had uttered the night before still played on a loop inside your mind, “…none of it?”

“No,” he finally met your gaze, “not one.”

Your churning stomach tried to prevent the words from flowing out, but your now fully bloomed feelings eventually prevailed as you found yourself asking him softly, “not even the part where you told me you love me?” 

© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble 

#lea’s writing #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x fem!reader #sirius black x reader #sirius black imagine #sirius black x female reader #sirius black fluff #sirius black x you #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fic #orchid #marauders era imagine #sirius black fanfic #sirius black angst #modern!old money!sirius black #artist!reader ᰔ

[piosplayhouse]

I forgot if I ever posted about this publicly or privately but fully inspired by Harry's mdzs au my opinions on a svsss furry au will always be that

-Shen Yuan is vehemently "not a furry but just likes supporting artists" who was pretty active in closed species circles for having a ridiculous amount of super expensive rare species that he found really cool. Shen Jiu (no relation) is a very controversial popufur who runs in adjacent circles that sy has a huge grudge against after seeing sj bully a bunch of teen furries (binghe) for their half angle half devile wolf ocs, but even sy has to admit that sj's fursona Shen Qingqiu is really really cool. Sj eventually decides to cut ties with the whole community after getting into another new discourse and sells all of his accounts and fursona art to a broker, who then sells it to sy. Sy logs into the account and is about to reveal what happened, but Yue Qingyuan sends him a super long vent/crying dm and sy feels too guilty and awkward to come clean after getting that bombshell and so he ends up impersonating Shen_Qingqiu in the elite closed DeviantArt group Cang Qiong Mtn Sect group

-Binghe is in the group mostly as a punching bag for everyone to make fun of his half angel half demon oc Xin Mo, but sy recognizes him as the kid he saw sj bully despite being super humble and with great potential for art, so he decides to take him under his wing (I think I was imagining sqq as a dutch angel dragon but whatever you believe here you can replace that with an appropriate body part). Sy ends up buying binghe a super rare Sushidog named Zhen Yang and while sy is like well nbd some artist got a paycheck and some kid got a cute new adopt but as we all know Binghe is Irreparably changed Forever from this

-Airplane is a popular furry porn writer known for taking hyperspecific commissions and flagrantly ignoring closed species rules in his smut peddling. Sy hates him for this of course and also because his porn isn't that good, but he still reads all of Airplane's gay original werewolf species porn just because wolves are really cool ok!! Sy isn't even gay he just thinks it's so cool how the three headed demon wolf has a three tiered society and--. Airplane loves to fuck with sy by making sock puppet accounts advertising shoddy bootleg closed species like deltagens instead of primagens or something like that. Also btw airplane has a hamster fursuit but only the head and paws since he can't afford a full one, he just poodles at cons

- Mobei Jun is not a furry but his family owns a hotel chain that regularly hosts furcons. During one of these he was sent by his father to shadow staff addressing a misbehavior complaint against the furcon attendees and accidentally ran into half-fursuited airplane, during which it was somehow love at first sight. Airplane doesn't know that tho he thinks mbj is still mad at him for smoking weed in his hotel room at that con they met at when they were both 17

#long post #long posts #svsss #svsss furry au

[just-late-roman-republic-things]

One of my favorite things about Mary Beard's Twelve Caesars: Images of Power is how she explores the surrounding context of artworks. It's not just "What is depicted, and how?" It's also:

Who made this (or had it made)? For what purpose? Pride, propaganda, humor, teaching, a warning?

Who are the intended audience - the owner alone? Their family? Rival snobby aristocrats? Churchgoers, students, the general public?

What else was going on in the world, and how does it affect the history of this artwork? (Imperialism, trade, and the rise and fall of dynasties often shift art across countries - given, bought or stolen!)

What references in this art would the audience have noticed? A lot of artworks call back to earlier ones, and this may be as subtle as the subject's posture or facial hair.

It makes me think about the art I see history lovers create today, too. And about historical fiction. I think it's easy to analyze media in terms of whether X subject it includes is good or bad, safe or problematic, and therefore whether the work as a whole is good or bad. It's easy, but wrong.

Art doesn't exist in a vacuum. Its meaning and effect depend on the creator, surrounding circumstances, and audience. Take Antonio Verrio's colossal painting of the Roman emperors at Hampton Court Palace:

I think most folks today would see it as a technically impressive baroque painting, but nothing special. Or just your typical monarchist art, in the same vein as Delacroix's Justice of Trajan. Why else would a British palace give center stage to a bunch of emperors, right?

But it's very likely that this painting was made as a joke. It's glorified fanart of emperor Julian's satire The Caesars, in which Julian makes nearly every one of his predecessors look ridiculous. If you look closely, you can spot scenes Julian wrote like Octavian being hassled by a philosopher and Nero playing a lyre (or guitar). I can imagine some nerdy aristocrat pointing out the gags to his buddies and roasting these guys.

However. The joke is not the only meaning of the painting. Meaning is given by the viewers, and modern monarchists may show it to each other and say, "This is real art, none of that woke nonsense." (Oblivious to Hadrian running after his boyfriend in the scene.) Anti-monarchists may hold it up as an example of autocracy being celebrated. Each group is reacting to the other, and using the painting to support their own messages.

I'm more of a writer than artist, but I'm also thinking about how I might apply this to my own works. Particularly, how not to overthink things. Because I want to be thoughtful about the messages I put in my stories, but readers are creative, and bring their own ideas to the text, too. There's no way to prevent that, nor should you really try. If you try to make the meaning too obvious, you'll likely make the work weaker, preachy, or condescending.

In the end, I suppose, all you can do is to do your best, create for the folks you want to reach instead of trying to appeal to everyone, and trust that the right people will understand.

#jlrrt reads #jlrrt essays #art history #emperor julian #antonio verro #media literacy #mary beard #twelve caesars: images of power

[st-el-la-luna]

Okay but like, what's with fandoms and their recent obsession with "purifying" themselves and the content in them?

It's one thing if a content creator is outed as a pedophile or a racist or a xenophobe.

What I'm talking about is this newfound hatred towards dark fics and dark subject matter in general. It's like people don't understand that it's fiction. Fiction is not reality. Even if the writing is disgusting or amoral, it's not real. And you don't have to read it.

People have been writing weird shit for ages. So how come we only ever see these purity enforcers attacking fic writers or fan artists in fandoms?

Like, in the COD fandom I've seen a bunch of people getting hounded for posting or consuming dark content, I've also gotten a couple messages about it. And, like, hey buddy? Who really cares.

Fiction and reality are two separate things.

Also, why are you attacking me, a 20 year old who lives with their mom and writes for their ten consultant followers and not, oh, I don't know...

Stephen King, who has that whole underage sewer orgy scene in It.

Or the e creators of call of duty for creating literal propaganda. Because, hey besties, yes, that's what COD is. Propaganda. They want you to see it and be like, "yay, guns and the military!" And that's the thing about fiction. It's allowed.

The issue at hand is, in my mind, an issue of deeper reading comprehension or complex thoughts. And a lack of understanding of catharsis.

No one is saying these things are good. But these things exist in the world, like it or not. And in my mind, it's better to portray them in fiction than not at all. Because at least in portraying it awareness can be spread.

And again, if you don't like something, if it triggers you, just don't read it. It's simple. Like if you're watching a movie and can't stand blood so you cover your eyes not to see. You aren't going to go after the director are you? No. You're going to take steps to protect yourself against content you don't want to see or consume.

I think it's an issue of separating fan works from "real" works. Those who say fan art isn't real art or fanfiction isn't real writing. So perhaps in those people's minds, fan works, not being "real" means that they shouldn't portray things we see in reality.

All this to say here's a non-definitive list of novels with dark/disturbing content that these people would want to oppose:

It by Stephen King: The kids having an orgy in the sewers, child abuse, sexual abuse

Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov: pseudo-incest, hebephilia

The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Attwood: Women being stripped of rights, education, loss of bodily autonomy, forced breeders (at the hands of a government)

The Wasp Factory by Iain Banks

The Road by Cormac McCarthy: People keeping other people for food, people keeping women as breeding stock (at the hands of bandits in a post-apocalyptic world)

Flowers in the Attic by V. C. Andrews: child neglect, child abuse, forced isolation, incest, rape

1984 by George Orwell: totalitarianism, government surveillance, insignificance and weakness of the individual

The Stand by Stephen King: sex, rape, ableism, abuse of handicapped people, violence and killing

Maus by Art Spiegelman: depiction of violence, concentration camps, Nazis, Nazi imagery, dehumanization, starvation, mass murder

Frankenstein by Marry Shelley: human experimentation, grave robbing, necromancy, technical necrophilia, murder, revenge, suicide

In the Miso Soup by Ryū Murakami: pedo/hebephilic relations, sex industry, murder

Blood Meridian by Cormac McCarthy: graphic depictions of violence, use of slurs, child abuse, infanticide (? Been a while since I read it so I might be misremembering), pedophilia, rape, sexual assault and violence

Tender is the Flesh by Agustina Bazterrica: cannibalism, forced breeding, objectification, slave trade, people being bred and sold for meat

A Clockwork Orange by Anthony Burgess: sadism, sexual violence

The Girl Next Door by Jack Ketchum: captivity, torture, torture at the hands of children, violence, sexual violence, based on a true story

Lord of The Flies by William Golding: shows the truth of human nature, dissolution of society and it's rules, violence as a basal instinct

The 120 Days of Sodom by Marquis de Sade: sex, sexual violence, rape, sex trade, pedophilia, incest, abuse, literally just the whole book

Trainspotting by Irvine Welsh: mental illness, drug use/addiction, infant death

American Psycho by Brett Easton Ellis: violence, gore, rape, murder, torture, misogyny, sadism

A lot of these books, though considered scary and disturbing and gross, are also seen as classics.

It's not the fault of the author or the media they create, but that of the consumer.

You can find it icky and gross after reading or watching such things. Most of the time you're supposed to. That's a good thing, it means you're human. These things make you think and feel and emphasize.

To control what can and cannot be written is censorship. To control how certain things are portrayed is censorship.

Be aware of the media that's out there, because these disturbing things are real issues out there. And if you can't stomach it, don't consume it.

Simple.

#el's musings #call of duty #fanfiction #purity culture #dark content

[sanjisblackasswife]

I’m asking some of my favorite writers this but what is your writers hot take???

I felt like I’ve gotten this anon before but anyway:

Ig mine is: if u write about rape/incest/stepcest/beastiality ur romanticizing it and u have an interest in it and ur just using fanfics as ur way of coping with a deep dark fantasy u want to try irl.

the whole “it’s just fiction” argument is stupid because though the characters are not real ur still writing about a real situation people have gone through and it’s just weird.

Wouldn’t it seem odd if I wrote smut about Aizawa (grown man in his 30s) raping Eri (a whole 1-2nd grader) or anya and Damian having sex (no not aged up their canon CHILD age)

Gross right? But wait, if I did what other people are saying and said “it’s just fiction” then it’s okay right?

See how stupid that excuse sound.

But at the end of the day people are ganna do what they wanna do and live their sick fantasies thru their work😗 this is also with artist too btw. This irony of all this is that I know for a fendi fact a good chunk of yall on here that writes that stuff aren’t even adults lmao. Just a bunch of lying kids.

#yeah people are ganna disagree. #I don’t care I’m jot here to convince u I’m right I’m here to speak what I been feeling since I got back on writing in 2021 #…**not #I don’t feel like rewriting allat #it’s the same also when people write about unprotected sex then wanna put (DONT DO THIS WRAP IT UP) LMAO LIKE WHAT #Just say u like raw dogging and go don’t give me advice

[navydream]

*Goes into notes app, to read whatever comics ideas I wrote, cause there’s an entire encyclopedia of them*

There’s a whole ass Avengers ark I wrote about Steve being a god from another dimension and it’s good… like try to contact some editor from Marvel good to make this thing canon.

I don’t remember ever writing it and it’s so exciting, like reading something new.

I am so busy with projects and then adding personal projects into the mix and I think I need to clone myself 🫠🫠🫠

I am also sad that most editorials do NOT look into artists for story ideas. I get it, we’re just the tool to make your writing a thing; but as artists we’ve been living with these characters EVERY DAY and we LOVE them, we understand them. It just pains me so much when a writer is hired and they’ve never read these characters and just come in and destroy their essence.

Working on those stories feels like taking bits of your artistic soul slowly until you feel nothing and you just show up to work like a robot, no feeling for these characters, just a mindless monotone job… You’re not the writer, you don’t have a say in what happens.

I wish editors would let us artists write from time to time.

Sigh, I just needed to vent, cause I feel like if I don’t… this part of me, that gets excited about carrying on a character’s essence, it’s gonna turn off and die.

(I also found I have a bunch of SpiderDevil comic scripts in there that I don’t remember writing hahaha)

#rants of a comic book artist

[nomsfaultau]

thank you so much for writing mandatory family reunion. i just reread it for the eighth time. i think im going to dedicate my life to life to reading your other sbi fics until you update again. also; do you have any tips for committing to fics and not leaving them half-finished?

ahhhh that’s so sweet glad you enjoyed! As for writing fics, having it be your special interest really helps. But for more general advice on finishing:

-Don’t stick to just one story. Which seems counter intuitive! But inevitably you’re going to hit a snag in one story. So instead of stopping writing at all, switch projects. Writing involves a whole bunch of thinking, and stuff needs time to percolate in the back of your head. But having a small project to work on in the mean time keeps you engaged in the writing process, gives you practice, makes you feel like you’re making progress, and allows time to work out the other story. I personally have 1-2 main projects, Fault and MFR, and then rotate a couple back burner stories that I work on whenever I get inspiration and fully expect to have very slow progress and possibly never finish. Short stories, one shots, hell even just writing little one off scenes that don’t go anywhere. It’s a way to keep writing fun and thus you’re more likely to continue working on the stuff you’re trying to complete. Don’t feel bad if there’s breaks between working on your main project. Writing involves a lot of thinking and it takes time to do that.

-Devoting time to do that thinking also significantly helps. When you’re falling asleep can be a good time to rotate stories in your head. Could also be if you’re walking from place to place, or brushing your teeth, or other little gaps in the day. Even if you’re not physically writing, it’s still part of the process and can make it easier when you actually sit down to write because you know what scene you’re most excited to work on. Also, talking over your story idea with a friend is a great way to stay motivated if you can get over the mortifying ordeal of being known. You can bounce ideas off them, and other people’s investment in a project can be a great motivator to finish. Like legit a single ao3 comment once stopped me from my plan to abandon a fic. Reminding yourself why you (and other people) like the story makes it easier to want to continue.

-Keeping a rough outline of what you envision for the story can give you a road map to how close to done you are and where to go next. Just like you can hop between projects, I find jumping around the plot time line to write what scene I’m most interested in atm keeps me going instead of writing everything in order. Though, all writers have different degrees of plot planning, so that depends on your style.

-Art! I’m an artist, and while writing definitely fuels what I draw, I find doodling cool scenes I want to write really inspires me to keep going. This sorta falls under the same category of continuing to think about the story and motivating you to finish. -I found keeping a writing journal has improved how I view my writing. Basically, I’ll jot down a bullet point list of scenes worked on that week/month. Writing is a very slow process, so seeing a timeline of actual progression on a story makes it feel like I’m actually getting more out of my head and onto paper. I also jot down what ideas for scenes I came up with since that’s also part of writing, and might include a chill no stakes writing goal for that period, like work on X or Y project, or a particular scene. Sometimes my goal is just ‘write at least one sentence’. I give it lots of leeway, and accept that the muse may just be somewhere else that week. And if the goal isn’t met, no sweat! Life can get busy at times and it’s more important that you aren’t beating yourself up if it’s been awhile since you last touched a project. Forcing yourself to write a scene that isn’t ready won’t result in a good scene or an happy writer. Switch projects, give yourself time to think about it, take care of yourself, etc.

And, legitimately, don’t be afraid to abandon a piece. Maybe you’ll come back to it, maybe you won’t. It can feel disheartening to feel like you can’t seem to finish a project, but unfinished pieces also do a lot for you: they hone your craft, allow you a creative outlet, give you scenes that could potentially be reworked for later pieces, and most importantly were hopefully fun to write! Story crafting is a hobby that should bring you joy, not frustration and shame.

Like, I have stories that will never see the light of day and are just so I can have fun and poke it with a stick occasionally. I’m 100% confident in saying that every author will have tenfold the number of unfinished wips compared to complete works. That’s just part of the creative process: exploring different worlds to find the one you want to write.

Perhaps a fic might never get finished, but in the wise words of Technoblade: “if you enjoy it, it’s not time wasted, no?”

(Now, I think he was talking about murdering people, but the point still stands.)

#I mean besides my novel I’ve only completed like 6 fics out of dozens of ideas #Only one of which had multiple chapters #Well and truly having a bunch of random wips is normal and expected #Muses are flighty write to have fun with it #Ask #writing advice #creative writing #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writers #writing inspiration #something to nom on

[dotthings]

So Sterlin Harjo actually did make the call himself to end Reservation Dogs with S3, but he did in a way that was very evidently him taking control of a story that means a lot to him and seize control back in a system that all too often grabs control from creatives.

I told them that the show’s too important to have somebody else tell me that it’s ending. I wanted to end it on our terms. I don’t want FX or Hollywood or the audience telling us it’s time to pack up because it’s dragging on. I want to go out the way we came in. I’m just really proud of the show. I didn’t ever want someone to tell me it’s time to pack it up. I think it’s better to drop the mic than to get the mic cord cut. You know?... They were shocked. People have asked me if it was their idea. No. I want to respect the nature of the storytelling. This story is coming to an end. I did tell FX, though, there are all of these ideas that I have for spinoffs and stuff happening in the same world. So all that’s up on the table and there’s some ideas that they really like. If someone else told me it was time to end, it would be so offensive to me, because I care about these actors, these writers, these directors, these characters. And I care about the whole crew. If someone told me it was time to pack it in, I would want to battle with them.

There's a lot of other great material in the interview about Indigenous rep and history, it's a very good read. I'm sad about this show ending--these characters and the storytelling style got into my heart and I know how rare a show with this kind of Indigenous rep is. Reservation Dogs is produced, written, directed, and acted by Indigenous artists. But the good news is it sounds like Sterlin Harjo for sure plans to revisit that world, and FX was very surprised about him ending it so soon (they got a taste of how it feels) and interested in having more from him.

Shows like this shouldn't have to be "unique." I know representation is getting better, but it's also slow to improve.

He also talks about the strikes and industry issues:

I still don’t know anything about this industry, but I definitely think people be compensated. We’re in a strange time where the viewership and streaming is not reported and we don’t know. We should be participating in the viewership and whatever revenue that creates. We created the show, so we should be participating in that. I don’t pretend to have any of the answers or know how to achieve that. I was just surprised to be making a show. Once I did that, I realized all these other things I had to try and navigate because I want to keep making work... It’s not a show that has some famous lead. It’s a bunch of people that have never been on screen before, and I want them to have careers. Before that, I want them to be able to survive and pay rent. That’s the only way they’re going to keep working. It’s the only way I’m going to be able to keep working with them. If the industry doesn’t change, if it turns its back on people like that, and then it’s harder for me to make shows with actors that I find interesting and people that I want to work with. People that haven’t been given opportunities before.

#Reservation Dogs #Sterlin Harjo

[sincerelywhistler]

My dearest Avior 💫

[in Part 2 of Work That Body | Completed Redacted Audio MAP/PMV with Avior/fem!Starlight]

I’ve not only had the pleasure of working alongside a whole bunch of amazingly talented artists, but just as equally wonderful writers as well for the Redacted Valentine’s MAP & collaborative writing project, both hosted by the lovely Atlas! Everyone’s parts have been such a joy to admire and read over <3 I’m glad to finally get my Avior design solidified in my mind as well (and to write some more Guy/Honey sappy goodness teehee). So proud of everyone 🌟

Work This Body | Complete Redacted Audio MAP/PMV & Redacted Valentine’s Writing Collaboration:

#redacted audio #redacted asmr #redacted fanart #redacted fandom #redacted avior #redactedverse #fanart #animatic #Youtube #sincerelywhistler

[yonemurishiroku]

please drop the link for the Nico finds family in Venice au when you're done pretty please 🥺

would be very interested in reading it

I regret to inform you that I, in fact, have nothing regarding this AU except for maybe a few visions that would do much better were I an artist instead of a slow-as-snail writer.

I have some reasonable explanation for the di Angelos - Maria had many siblings, and therefore Nico has many cousins who are actually still alive. One of them being the current head of the family (?) and he recognizes Nico. He has a vague sense of the whole Hades thing, so when Nico tells him the truth, he believes him and welcomes him back to the family. Nico then lives with them as his grandson.

I like to play around and imagine that it's like a big family staying together. And Nico now has an 'older brother' - who is actually his... grandnephew?? idk i probably just made that up. It'd be 10x times funnier if said grandnephew is actually aware of the truth. So they have this weird dynamic of "I'm 70 years older than you, son" - "Not in the adoption papers you are not, grandpa" LMAO. And then maybe - just maybe! - a boyfriend who is friends with said older brother/grandnephew? LOL

My plan, as of currently (which is code word for: all the prompts I can think of), is only an one-scene oneshot (you know, typical me).

Initially, I was going to merge it with another prompt I've got in store - which is about Grover coming across Nico in Italy again when he's traveling the world as the god of the wild. The plot would be quite simple, obviously: Grover lands in Venice, recognizes Nico who is just having a nice morning out with his (new) family, and then spends some time together on a bench sightseeing as they contemplate Nico's life story.

It's a one-time encounter between old friends to reminisce about your past - that sort of thing.

On the other hand, I just realized maybe five minutes ago that Reyna can fit quite well in Grover's place, as well. Mainly because:

1/ She is traveling around, too.

2/ She's close to Nico, too.

3/ She's now a Hunter of Artemis, which is a whole other branch that can connect to Bianca in case I want to go there, too.

Hazel is also a good candidate, though in her case I'd have to modify the plot a little, figuring out a good reason for her to cross the freaking Atlantic, what kind of transportation she'll have to take, their reactions upon reuniting - just. a bunch of things, really. I reckon if I'm going to pick Hazel, I would need to bring Percy too bc 1/ Frank would never let Hazel go that far alone but CJ needs at least a praetor; 2/ It allows for more interesting interactions.

But alas - I hardly have enough willpower for both Hazel and Percy, so there's that.

This is everything I have in mind. I'm sorry if you were expecting a multi-chaptered fanfic bc honestly I can't do longfic and half of the time I say I have an AU - it's like a 2-sentence prompt at best 😭😭😭

#nico di angelo #pjo #hoo #toa #yone rambling #percy jackson and the olympians #heroes of olympus #trials of apollo #nico leaving camp #Nico finds family in Venice #nico in venice #yone au #pjo au #nico x oc

[friendball-irl]

Inspiration

OOC:

A not-so-little positivity post, because I want to make one.

Y'know, I think the Pokemon IRL folks are some of the most talented artists and writers I've seen in my entire life.

The amount of heart, effort, and cooperation that I've seen go on in the community has been so fucking awe-inspiring.

The stories I've had the honor to bear witness to are the most entertaining and captivating works I've seen in the whole Pokemon community, period.

Hell, I've checked out the Pokemon AO3 page multiple times for a few years, and NOTHING on there comes close to the amount of detail, drama, and overall design that you all have somehow managed to put into these roleplaying posts.

From canon divergence, crossovers, to even full blown original characters, Pokemon, and plots, there's a little something for everyone on here.

And I mean it when I say that it's an inspiration, honestly.

You're all a bunch of artists at the end of the day with this, and I have gotten so much creative inspiration from interacting with you all.

I've made full blown songs just by growing attached to your characters, and I have more planned because of it!

I, along with others, have been inspired to craft brand new characters, put them in the same world as others, and emotionally impacted each other in the process!

And most of all, we've managed to create a welcoming and inclusive community where people have made really good friends, myself included!

I had just taken a step back and I'm just blown away by what we've made.

I've been around since the beginning, but honestly? I've had little parts to play in the grand scheme of things apart from inspiring a few blogs into existence, which I am still humbled and blown away by.

And in the end, I just want to say thank you.

Thank you for being so amazing.

Thank you for being inspirations.

And thank you for being a part of this community.

Thank you.

#ooc #ooc: feeling happy rn so. have this :)

[lovefrombegonia]

PERSONAL OPINION:

You disagree? Fine. Have a nice day ✨❤️

I love the three body problem books. I love what the author did with the whole story. Even if the characters are not that interesting, I am completely ok with it because I was more interested in the existential horror of it all and the characters, be it bland or complex, served their purpose. The horror itself is the character for me. I will never not love these books....

But MY GODS...do some of the stans of these books annoy me when they refuse to accept how problematic the author and the many aspects of these books themselves are. I am gonna stop enjoying these books because of that but I am not gonna deny that, well...yes, the books are rather sexist. And yes the author...SUCKS as a person. He just does. I enjoyed his writing. I will derive my enjoyment from his works. But no...I won't support him. Because I don't want to. It won't feel good to me.

Will I still recommend his books? Yes, I will. But with a clear warning that the author is an asshole. And the books are, indeed, quite sexist. I also can't deny tho that the overall saga he created across these three books...is amazing TO ME. I love the story. But it's not for everyone. And that's ok.

These books and their author do make me think of separating the art and the artist should be done with him, especially, when his conservative way of thinking gets poured into the story. Idk...no matter what way I think, in the end, these stories will always have a special place in my mind. The existential dread and grandeur these books created will always be fascinating to me. I praise Liu Cixin for being such an excellent and talented horror writer and loathe him for his regressive ideas. Still, I don't think my opinion of him is complicated. It's very simple: I like his books as a horror fan. I don't like him tho. Some would find his works no longer enjoyable because of him and that's completely fine too. But people refusing to see the sexism in his stories and hating on others for pointing out annoy me the most. Especially, a weird bunch of people who keep pointing out that Cixin is great because he is a "non-western" author and his stories are not understood by Western people....OK?? As an non-western woman, I find this line of thinking very weird. Almost CREEPY. This is the bad kind of cringe fans. Eww. Granted, I appreciate it when people defend non-western creators from unfair western criticism but this is different IMO. This is overcorrecting. If he has written sexist tropes in his stories, everyone is allowed to question his work. LCX doesn't need your "protection".

You are allowed to like someone's works but dislike that someone, at the same time. Talented people are not always good people. Good people are not always the best in their work.

#three body problem #liu cixin #saya rambles. #personal opinion #three body problem books