#i love this show too much to fully criticize it but i had to write this

[laughhardrunfastbekindsblog]

Eventually I might write an entire thesis on all the ways Tech shows that he loves and cares deeply about his family; but for now, here's a slightly shorter essay focusing on how Tech dealt with Echo's departure in "The Crossing." 

One of the main themes of this episode is how different people deal with loss/goodbyes, and this is illustrated particularly well by the contrast between Omega and Tech (Hunter and Wrecker are basically the middle ground). Omega, of course, is vocal about how much she misses Echo and initially misinterprets Tech's attitude as him "not caring" that "everything's changing," but it's precisely Tech's attitude and actions that show how much he DOES care.

Tech is fully aware of Echo's absence

Tech relays right away that Echo's comms are off - meaning he had to have been in contact with Echo (or at least tried to contact him) since their parting. He is also the first to propose that the assignments for the mission might need to be adjusted due to Echo's absence leaving them "one man down."

Tech compartmentalizes Echo's departure within the same framework as Crosshair's departure.

I'm inclined to believe he does this because this is how he's able to accept this specific type of change. Of course there are differences between the two - one of which being that Crosshair left on barely civil terms after making it clear he had a hard time accepting that the squad could have different life goals/opinions without being enemies, while Echo left on good terms and made it clear he'd return - but ultimately both brothers left because the pull to pursue a different objective was greater than the call to stay with the family. And while Tech later admits this "can be difficult to understand" - which is likely why he acts as he does at other points in the episode - he understands and respects their decisions at least well enough to know he needs to carry on.

Tech is extra tetchy with the others for most of the episode - and this is NOT typical for him.

Tech has always been dry and blunt, sometimes seemingly emotionless ("seemingly" being the operative word), and he's not shy in expressing his opinions; but rarely has he ever crossed the line into being rude and blatantly argumentative with his squadmates as he is here. For example: in "Aftermath," Wrecker and Tech have a brief exchange during the battle simulation where Tech points out that maybe Wrecker should learn the hand signals and Wrecker gets a touch defensive; but rather than the issue blowing up into a major disagreement, Tech translates the hand signals for Wrecker and they move on. In "The Crossing," however, Tech gets irritated that Wrecker didn't notice the Marauder being stolen, and he just won't let it go. He then gets a bit sharp with Omega when she presses the subject of Echo's departure, telling her "What is your issue?" (He might have inadvertently said borderline insensitive things before, like "Perhaps the situation is not as dire as described. Children often overreact"; but as far as we've seen he has never singled out Omega as the subject of these observations and has never been curt with her.)

Omega, of course, gets frustrated with Tech, primarily because she doesn't see Tech's behavior for what it is: an indication that Tech feels the loss just as much as she does, even if he doesn't express it the same way.

Tech accepts Hunter's and Wrecker's criticism that he has handled things poorly with Omega, and when she finally tells him exactly what is bothering her about his behavior, he takes the time to put his feelings into words

Tech has been more irritable than usual, but he still cares about his family enough to notice when he's gone too far, accept correction, and do his best to smooth things over. He doesn't quite seem to know at first how to approach the topic with Omega so things can be smoothed over; but when she opens up to him, he is silent for a long time as he ponders how best to explain himself to her, rather than brushing aside and avoiding what is obviously a difficult conversation for him but an important one for her.

And thus we get one of my top favorite scenes along with one of my top favorite quotes in the entire Star Wars franchise:

"Echo chose a different path, as did Crosshair. I have to respect their decision. Even though it can be difficult to understand, we must carry on. I may process moments and thoughts differently, but it does not mean that I feel any less than you."

#tbb #the bad batch #star wars #star wars the bad batch #tbb omega #tbb tech #tbb analysis #i literally cannot express how much i adore this episode #so instead i'm going to write a character analysis

[whoistrash]

Why change matters and how Amphibia did it better than The Owl House.

"Watching and Dreaming" made me cry a lot during its premiere. I was amazed and, I'd say, dazed by it. Then I forgot about it for a while. Now I finished re-watching Amphibia for the first time since TOH ended. My hype died down, and I have some thoughts. A lot, actually.

Amphibia's ending was incredibly painful and made me sob like a baby for two whole weeks the first time I watched it. That's because it was not only beautiful and heartbreaking, but truly GOOD. Brilliant, actually. I absolutely agree with a statement that any other ending would literally be a contradiction to the whole main plot, especially Anne's arc. The girls had to learn to let go in order to grow as individuals - the thing they had the biggest problem with. Saying goodbye was the only logical option, plot-wise. It still hurt like hell, though. Separating the multidimensional, against-all-odds relationships (especially my beloved spranne. Ouch, ouch, ouch). The Owl House does no such thing - everybody stays together. They live happily ever after.

Paradoxically, I think that it's the main reason why I'd choose "The Hardest Thing" over "Watching and Dreaming" every single time. I know we shouldn't really compare them in EVERY aspect, since TOH had way more things to deal with in the final episode, but the fact that Luz got to not only stay, but to freely travel between worlds as she pleases really took the whole "growing up and finding your true self no matter what the other people do/say about you" thing out the door. Luz from season one, episode one, and Luz from the finale are not really that different. Well, she certainly became more traumatised and depressed than before, but in terms of personal growth? Nope. Luz - from the very beginning - was cheerful, open, caring and very selfless, willing to literally help every stranger she met no matter how it would affect her. She had little to no boundaries, but, well, you can't argue that she was A GOOD, SELFLESS PERSON. Now, we could say that her arc here would be learning that sometimes you should put yourself before others, that you can't save everyone, that you can't trust every person you meet. And she learns it! She fucking does! She helps Philip not knowing who he will become, and then suffers from the consequences, because she helped the wrong person. And then it's all erased, when she saves Collector's life and meets Papa Titan (or whatever we call them).

I have so much to say about this. All of TOH's "villains" (Amity, Lilith, Hunter, The Collector) that were given a redemption arc literally get turned into lifeless, edgy trauma dumpsters, that suddenly loose all of their previous character, quirks and sass (well, maybe except for Lilith, she just started to express them differently, I think, but still, it was WAY too big of a change). I won't dwell on it (since many, many fans called it out already - as they should), and will focus on something different. The only one marked as irredeemable is Belos. Good. Okay. He's irredeemable, because he's a white, christian puritan who won't listen to anyone but himself. Also a genocidal maniac. That's the lesson for Luz here. "You can't save everyone. Some people are just straight up evil". And it's very, very true. But.

From all of the "villains" I mentioned before, Belos is the one that had the most reasons to, let's say, take a dark turn. Those reasons are what makes him irredeemable - he's just too convinced he's right, because, in his mind, he has evidence to prove it. But how do we learn about this? Maybe by seeing his part of the story? Maybe by learning about his brother and Evelyn, about their relationship? It couldn't be straight up awful, since Philip literally brought his brother back to life over and over again, he wanted his brother, or at least the picture of Caleb that satisfied him the most. There was more to it than only "you betrayed me and now I will hate you forever". Do we get to see any of that? No. Instead we get an all-knowing, all-doing being that literally choose Luz as "the one" for being kind and trusting, that convinces her that Belos is, indeed, a lost cause. Do you see where I'm going with this?

Luz, the person that on the literal episode two was told that there is no such thing as a "chosen one" and that she can't always hop into action to save everybody, because, it's, well, not always possible, DOES EXACTLY THAT in the finale by taking a bullet for The Collector, the, you know, very freshly redeemed and suddenly cute and funky villain, whom Luz trusts immediately. AND SHE IS REWARDED FOR IT BY BEING MADE THE CHOSEN ONE. BY A GOD-LIKE BEING THAT CLAIMS TO BE ALL-KNOWING AND CAN DECIDE WHO IS RIGHT AND WHO IS WRONG, BECAUSE OF PERSONAL (King) REASONS. Just like, you know... Belos? The irredeemable villain? And then Luz lets go of the moral dilemmas that's been keeping her up at night for the past months, makes up her mind, defeats the bad guy, learns nothing, and gets to stay in the Boiling Isles and on Earth. With her beautifully redeemed girlfriend and friends whom she kept secrets from and lied to out of fear of being ostracised (you see the pattern here, right?) for, again, months.

I love Amphibia. I love The Owl House. But Amphibia handles it's "villains", generally wronged characters and the whole change/no change thing way better. Well, maybe besides the Core - they got a bit wasted in my opinion. But still. Sasha. Grime. Marcy. Andrias. Anne herself. They learn and change. And more importantly, they face consequences and come to understand and accept them. There's no "chosen one" here. Anne gets the proposition because she's the first one to use the music box for good in literal millenia. A fact, plain and simple (not an opinion based on personal motivations), that makes sense plot-wise, and adds so, so much to Anne's arc. Because Anne from season one, episode one wouldn't care. The one from the finale cares very damn much. And that's the biggest difference.

Saying goodbye makes the message way stronger. The more I think about it, however, the more I'm starting to be afraid that there's no The Message in The Owl House to begin with. Luz learns very little, yet ends up with everything she ever wanted. There's no power behind it. The "find the right people and choose to trust them, not everyone will be your friend" and "some things are out of your control, some people are just bad" aspect is even weaker, as proven by basically the whole season 3. I will end it by my favorite quote from Amphibia, that I think about on daily basis. Have a good day, y'all.

"Change can be difficult, but it's how we grow. It can be the hardest thing to realize you can't hold on to something forever. Sometimes, you have to let it go; but, of the things you let go, you'd be surprised what makes its way back to you."

#the owl house #amphibia #watching and dreaming #the hardest thing #luz noceda #philip wittebane #anne boonchuy #sprig plantar #toh critical #kinda? #i love this show too much to fully criticize it but i had to write this #it was cathartic

[florenceisfalling]

like idk. i miss seeing content from s.igne (though i respect gab wholeheartedly). i miss fanart from my favorite artists. i miss older eras of j.se at times (and yes, there were older eras, the way people pretended he Never Changed is just weird). i miss old anti designs. i miss the old fic trends. i miss having a very active fandom (though i am so happy to see the new arrivals) and i miss seeing him interact with fans the way he did on tumblr back in the day. i miss the way i used to interact with some of the blogs here before i decided to fuckin,,, wage holy war and make enemies out of them (joking, but i have seen sides to some of these people that i wish i could tear out of my memory). i miss feeling confident that i could trust the good intentions of people here and even the big man himself (not god. that makes sean sound like god. you know what i mean). i miss when some of you weren't so fucking bitter which is funny because i'm the bitterest bitch alive. idk. i don't think it's bad to miss any of these things because i'm not going to be an ass and act like it's anybody's fault. i'm not going to be bothered by gab for being happy because i'm glad she is happy, and i'm not going to get bothered by sean taking a reasonable step back from this hellsite when people were cruel to him, and i'm not going to get mad at trends for changing because that is how time works. but i do miss things and i know its cringe and parasocial and perhaps even problematic but i hate having to pretend like i never have Any feelings about the past lest i break a hypothetical rule of what is the Normal level of attachment to an online community. okay. i think i'm done now.

#one of my favorite writers left because they couldn't deal anymore and one of my favorite writers turned out to have shit views and one of #my favorite writers left because of something that was partly my fault and one of my favorite writers stopped writing because of two of the #others and one of my favorite writers hurt someone i love over and over and over and one of my favorite writers left because they were the #someone i love. two of the big names hate queer folk that don't align with their ideals and half the artists left for twitter or for dead. #the man himself left because criticism always becomes cruelty and people lie to make themselves feel good. #the editors all turned their accounts private and my favorite told me on livestream that i was good and starting somewhere but then forgot #my name. and i thought maybe i was the bitter one but then i look at some of the other people who have been here so long and wonder why #they even bother anymore because they care more about complaining with everything j.ack does than anyone who actually enjoys his stuff. #and you know i poked fun at *** for a lot of things. some deserved some not. and one of them was the fact that she compared fandom #to warfare. and yes that's still silly i don't think it's a fair comparison but i do know that she wasn't fully wrong. #when you've been here for a long time and ive Been here for a long time you start to get really used to names and faces #and the change can be like waking up to a new wallpaper in your room. not a bad one just a new one. #i don't want to pretend that this fandom is just a silly little hobby for me when lets be honest i know some of yalls personal lives a #little too dearly for that. ive loved people here ive lost people here the first person who showed me this place fucking DIED and i still #lose it sometimes over the fact that he would have loved jameson so much and we couldve been closer friends had he stayed alive a few more #years. so yeah. sorry for being fucking cringy or whatever but there have been times where i've felt like im on a sinking ship watching #everybody else row away and i refuse to go. so like. cool. cool. im glad things are good again but i never really got to process the bad #things.

[ashessonfire]

FIRST KISS WITH KAZ!!! Maybe through fabric or just working through his touch aversion to get there

'Need' - Kaz Brekker x reader

Prompt - An overview of the relationship which brings the Bastard of the Barrel's hardened walls crashing down. But how long will it take for him to show his true longing for you? - Pairing: Kaz Brekker x Reader(gender neutral) - Warnings: Mentions of Kaz's trauma but nothing too detailed, just Kaz being desperate to be with you :) - A/N: Thank you so much for requesting anon! I hope this is okay, its my first fic ever so please leave any criticism or improvements you may have. also please let me know if we like this style of writing <33 PLEASE REQUEST!!

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Kaz had many things he wanted. Kruge, power, and revenge were among his most desired, however there was only one thing that he slowly began to realize he truly needed.

You.

After a long period of brushed hands and stolen glances, the Bastard of the Barrel had finally confessed his fondness for you, planting the seed of a rough but beautiful love. Even before the possibility of a true relationship bloomed, you knew that any form of intimacy was a weakness for Kaz, and an opportunity for his enemies to strike.

In order to counter this, you and Kaz spent endless hours breaking down his barriers within the confines of his room at the slat, and on occasion the office at the crow club. It began with small acts of service, bring Kaz tea when he was working too long, him bringing small gifts back from the market, even exchanged notes of gratitude or compliments.

As Kaz began to remove his armour, he reluctantly allowed you closer and closer, until the two of you began to work on his undeniable fear of physical contact.

It started off slowly and rarely, with his gloves still permanently clinging to his scarred hands as he adjusted to touching your arm or hand through several layers of material. Each attempt left Kaz with a bubbling feeling in his chest as if he was longing for something he couldn’t quite place, although he pushed down any thought of needing you more than he already did.

Each gentle smile, kind touch, or loving word chipped his armour more, growing the intensity of the feeling within his chest. A need for you.

This feeling buried itself deep within Kaz’s heart, growing in intensity each time he saw you, and consuming him completely if he ever saw you in the embrace of another.

Kaz trusted you fully, at least to his personal limit, having been raised by a city full of deception and misfortune himself. As a result, he would never blame you for seeking comfort in the touch of others despite your relationship, he knew it was cruel to deny you this, and was confident in your loyalty and love for him.

Yet his heart and mind found it easy to experience a taste of bitterness towards whoever was fortunate enough to be graced with a swift hug or gentle touch from you, often being another of his crows.

Deep down he knew it was immature of him to have something as low as jealousy completely overtake him, but each touch they received sent daggers flying directly through his chest, lodging themselves deeply into his already aching heart.

The boiling jealousy would be quickly dispelled as you made your way over to him, brushing your fingers over his gloved ones and smiling softly at the clearly frustrated boy.

As time went on, the touch Kaz’s body could allow increased, both in receiving and giving. Words of praise besides the touch aided in the rocky yet manageable journey, however eye contact was easily the most efficient way of communicating what both lovers meant.

To most throughout the barrel, a quick glance from the infamous Dregs leader is enough to set even the fiercest gang member’s blood racing, chilling their insides simultaneously with its razor-like edge.

Yet somehow, after studying your beautiful bosses face for long enough, you cracked the code on his impenetrable gaze, soon being able to decipher even the smallest slips of emotion through a twitch or a shift in his glare. Kaz often contemplated how you managed to read him so efficiently, settling on you perhaps using one of his own lock-picking techniques to unravel his emotions and ultimately, his heart.

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As a result of this skill, you were immediately able to sense a change in Kaz’s stance and mood as you gently shut the door to his office behind you and made your way over to his desk. “I brought you tea my love,” you quietly said, not wanting to provoke the clearly tense man in front of you.

Frequently Kaz would be in difficult moods after jobs, his mind buzzing with adrenaline and further plans for more tasks he needed to instantly begin planning. As you broke down his barriers, you managed to reduce this urgency, always gaining at least an hour or two to help him; bringing him tea, running him hot water to wash with, finding new books to discuss and read together, or even just admiring the city from the rooftops.

However this was different, the job was supposedly simple, but every aspect had gone awry and almost cost multiple dregs their lives. After complicated missions such as these, you knew Kaz needed space to breath, with a single glance in your direction a clear indicator of whether your presence was needed or not in that moment (however he always called for you as soon as he was able).

Tension radiated through the air, and although you weren’t afraid of his tempers like the others, you were feeling uneasy at your own inability to read what was crossing his mind. His shoulders were hunched as he slowly lifted his blistering gaze to meet yours, lacking the usual softness they held only for you, yet not containing any hostility.

He huffed out a sigh, stormy eyes locked on yours, thoughts racing inside, but not translating to his eyes, your only window into his troublesome mind. “I don’t know what to do” he finally muttered as you patiently waited for him to formulate his words.

After many hours spent with him, you had learnt how strenuous verbal communication was for him, and how often he just needed time to articulate his answers and force them out into the open. So, as he settled back into the silence of the office, you shifted the chair opposite to his and made yourself comfortable, allowing him to calm his raging thoughts with your familiar presence.

“Its too much. Each time we leave and come back it grips me, tighter and tighter,” he stumbles out, forcing the sounds of each word out of his mouth as if he is battling with his mind to allow them to be heard. Despite your lack of context, you gave a soft reassuring smile, nodding towards him and taking a sip of your tea to allow him a moment to breathe and continue.

“On jobs, or at the club, I can’t escape it,” he states breathlessly, before continuing, “How is it possible to need something so badly, yet my greatest need is the one thing I cannot truly have?” immediately signalling that this must be about his feeling of imprisonment his body forces upon him.

He slowly rose from his seat, limping towards you with a strong air of determination, eyes glued to yours as you scanned him in a failed attempt to decode his actions. You gazed up as he loomed over you, planting himself only a few feet away, the proximity making a beautiful warmth spread through your chest at his comfortability with you.

“I know I cannot give you what you need. You reassure me, yet I know it is not enough to live behind walls, barriers, defences.” He states, voice shaking at the end of each cadence, showing an impressive amount of bravery to admit his deepest concerns to you. He continued, “But I cannot live that way either,” his face leaning closer to yours, your breath suddenly hitching in your throat, cheeks glowing with a rosy flush.

“It’s too much, knowing I cannot have you in the way that you deserve. That…” he trails off, face shifting closer to yours with each word, inch by inch breaking down both of your defences. After swallowing thickly and regaining himself, he continues “That I want.”

By now his breath sends warm ripples across your skin, rendering you speechless at Kaz’s ability to fight his demons, striking them down for just enough time to reach you, even for a moment.

“But I know what I want, and I will be damned if anything stops me from getting it,” he demands, dangerously low, conflicting with the vulnerability displaying in his eyes, showing his internal conflict as he pushes his boundaries to the limit, leaving you certain the waters are chest high by now. However, his next action dispels any thoughts you had before, rendering you stunned.

“I want you,” he whispers before crashing his lips against yours.

Although it couldn’t have lasted longer than 3 seconds, the bliss that overwhelmed the pair of you was astounding, pure love radiating between you without the waters washing away the moment. Shortly after, the ocean regained its grip, forcing him to stumble back a good few feet, shaking violently and gripping the desk for support.

What surprised you the most was his expression.

He wore the faintest, yet most heartfelt smile you had ever seen grace his lips, filled with pride at his victory and ability to not only communicate, but finally act on his desires.

Your eyes pricked with tears as the emotions overcame you, your chest filling to the brim with love for the man, however you knew better than to stay any longer and prolong the inevitable current that was already overwhelming him. You stood quietly, slowly removing your jacket and placing it neatly on the table, eyes permanently glued to Kaz to ensure you remained a suitable distance.

He shakily nodded his head in thanks, breathing becoming shallower as he attempted to regain a sense of rhythm, grabbing the coat and waveringly making his way around his desk.

Early in the process of unravelling his fear of touch, you discovered that he found great solace in items of yours, especially for the times when he couldn’t convince his own mind that you were warm and present, not like the frigid bodies that plagued him. They gave him a piece of yourself to grasp onto when your physical presence was too much.

It shattered your heart into splinters at the idea of leaving him in this state, but you knew it was what he needed, and the certainty that within an hour or two he would be calling for your presence brought a sense of calm over you.

As you reached to lightly close the door, you looked up to find him staring at you through his trembling state, a triumphant look still faintly glittering in his eyes. You sent him a comforting smile, tears creating a glassy sheen over your eyes, illuminated by the candlelit office.

“I’m proud of you Kaz. So proud, more than you could ever know. I’ll see you later my love,” you breathed, loud enough for him to hear.

Your heart hammered in your chest as you shut the door, as the pride, pain, and love overwhelmed your senses. A lone tear slipped as you descended the stairs to process the night’s event, which unbeknownst to you, mirrored the boy sat in his office.

Kaz also shed a single tear amongst the panic his body forced upon him, however instead of the pure pain, grief, and dread that usually fell, a strong sense of victory escaped with that tear too.

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#kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x reader fluff #kaz brekker x reader imagines #kaz brekker #kaz brekker imagine #six of crows x reader #six of crows imagine #six of crows #shadow and bone season 2 #shadow and bone #shadow and bone imagine

[physalian]

What No One Tells You About Writing #5

Part 4

Part 3

Part 2

Shorter list this time, but longer points. I expect this one to be more divisive, but it is what it is, and this is what ‘no one tells you’ about writing, after all. This one’s all about feedback and how to take it, and give it.

1. Not everyone will like your book, no matter how good it is

I’ve said this before, granted, but sometimes you can have very arbitrary reasons for not liking an otherwise great story. For example: I refuse to watch Hamilton. Why? Because everyone I knew and their dog was trying to cram it down my throat when it came out and I still don’t really like musicals, and didn’t appreciate the bombardment of insisting I’ll like it simply because everyone else does. I’m sure it’s great! I’m just not watching it until I want to watch it.

It can be other reasons, too. I won’t read fanfic that’s written in first person, doesn’t matter how good it is. Someone might not watch a TV show because the primary cast is white or not-white. Someone might not watch a movie because an actor they despise is in it, even if the role is fantastic. Someone might not watch or read a story that’s too heavy on the romance, or not enough, or too explicit. I went looking for beta readers and came across one who wouldn’t touch a book where the romance came secondary in a sci-fi or fantasy novel. Kept on scrolling.

Someone can just think your side character is unfunny and doesn’t hear the same music as everyone else. Someone can just not like your writing style with either too much or not enough fluff, or too much personality in the main narrator. Or they have triggers that prevent them from enjoying it the way you intend.

How someone expresses that refusal is not your job to manage. You cannot force someone to like your work and pushing too hard will just make it worse. Some people just won’t like it, end of story.

2. Criticism takes a very long time to take well

Some people are just naturally better at taking constructive criticism, some have a thick skin, some just have a natural confidence that beats back whatever jabs the average reader or professional editor can give. If you’re like me, you might’ve physically struggled at first to actually read the feedback and insisted that your beta readers color-coded the positive from the negative.

It can be a very steep climb up the mountain until you reach a point where you know you’re good enough, and fully appreciate that it is actually “constructive” and anything that isn’t, isn’t worth your time.

The biggest hurdle I had to climb was this: A criticism of my work is not a criticism of me as a person.

Yes, my characters are built with pieces of my personality and worldview and dreams and ideals, but the people giving you feedback should be people who either already know you as a person and are just trying to help, or are people you pay to be unbiased and only focus on what’s on the page.

Some decisions, like a concerning moral of your story, is inadvertently a criticism of your own beliefs—like when I left feedback that anxiety can’t just be loved away and believing so is a flawed philosophy. I did that with intent to help, not because I thought the writer incompetent or that they wrote it in bad faith.

I’m sure it wasn’t a fun experience reading what I had to say, either. It’s not fun when I get told a character I love and lost sleep over getting right isn’t getting the same reception with my betas. But they’re all doing it (or at least they all should be doing it) from a place of just wanting to help, not to insult your writing ability. Even if your writing objectively sucks, you’re still doing a lot more just by putting words on paper than so many people who can’t bring themselves to even try.

As with all mediums subjects to critique, one need not be an author to still give valuable feedback. I’m not a screenwriter, but from an audience’s standpoint, I can tell you what I think works. Non-authors giving you pointers on the writing process? You can probably ignore that. Non-authors giving you pointers on how your character lands? Then, yeah, they might have an opinion worth considering.

3. Parsing out the “constructive” from the criticism isn’t easy

This goes for people giving it as well. Saying things like “this book sucks” is an obviously useless one. Saying “I didn’t like this story because it was confusing and uncompelling” is better. “I think this story was confusing and uncompelling because of X, and I have some suggestions here that I think can make it better.”

Now we’re talking.

Everyone’s writing style is different. Some writers like a lot of fluff and poetic prose to immerse you in the details and the setting, well beyond what you need to understand the scene or the plot. Their goal is to make this world come alive and help you picture the scene exactly the way they see it in their minds.

There’s writers who are very light on the sensory fluff and poetry, trying to give you the impression of what the scene should look and feel like and letting you fill in the missing pieces with your own vision.

Or there’s stories that take a long time to get anywhere, spending many pages on the small otherwise insignificant slice-of-life details as opposed to laser-precision on the plot, and those who trim off all the fat for a fast-paced rollercoaster.

None of these are inherently bad or wrong, but audiences do have their preferences.

The keyword in “constructive criticism” is “construct”. As in, your advice is useless if you can’t explain why you think an element needs work. “It’s just bad” isn’t helpful to anyone.

When trying to decide if feedback has merit, try to look at whatever the critic gives you and explain what they said to yourself in your own words. If you think changing the piece in question will enhance your story or better convey what you’re trying to say, it’s probably solid advice.

Sometimes you just have to throw the whole character out, or the whole scene, whole plot line and side quest. Figuring out what you can salvage just takes time, and practice.

4. Just when you think you’re done, there’s more

There’s a quote out there that may or may not belong to Da Vinci that goes “art is never finished, only abandoned.” Even when you think your book is as good as it can be, you can still sleep on it and second-guess yourself and wonder if something about it could have been done better or differently.

There is such a thing as too much editing.

But it also takes a long time to get there. Only 10-15% of writing is actually penning the story. The rest is editing, agonizing over editing, re-editing, and staring at the same few lines of dialogue that just aren't working to the point that you dream about your characters.

It can get demoralizing fast when you think you’ve fixed a scene, get the stamp of approval from one reader, only for the next one to come back with valid feedback neither of you considered before. So you fix it again. And then there’s another problem you didn’t consider. And then you’re juggling all these scene bits and moments you thought were perfect, only for it to keep collapsing.

It will get there. You will have a manuscript you’re proud of, even if it’s not the one you thought you were going to write. My newest book isn’t what I set out to write, but if I stuck to that original idea, I never would have let it become the work that it is.

5. “[Writing advice] is more like guidelines than actual rules.”

Personally, I think there’s very few universal, blanket pieces of writing advice that fit every book, no exceptions, no conditions, no questions asked. Aside from: Don’t sacrifice a clear story for what you think is cool, but horribly confusing.

For example, I’m American, but I like watching foreign films from time to time. The pacing and story structure of European films can break so many American rules it’s astonishing. Pacing? What pacing? It’s ~fancy~. It wants to hang on a shot of a random wall for fifteen seconds with no music and no point because it’s ~artsy~. Or there is no actual plot, or arc, it’s just following these characters around for 90 minutes while they do a thing. The entire movie is basically filler. Or the ending is deeply unsatisfying because the hoity-toity filmmaker believes in suffering for art or… something.

That doesn’t fly with mainstream American audiences. We live, breathe, and die on the Hero’s Journey and expect a three-act-structure with few novel exceptions.

That does not mean your totally unique or subversive plot structure is wrong. So much writing advice I’ve found is solid advice, sure, but it doesn’t often help me with the story I’m writing. I don’t write romance like the typical romance you’d expect (especially when it comes to monster allegories). There’s some character archetypes I just can’t write and refuse to include–like the sad, abusive, angsty, 8-pack abs love interest, or the comedic relief.

Beyond making sure your audience can actually understand what you’re trying to say, both because you want your message to be received, and you don’t want your readers to quit reading, there is an audience for everything, and exceptions to nearly every rule, even when it comes to writing foundations like grammar and syntax.

You don’t even have to put dialogue in quotes. (Be advised, though, that the more ~unique~ your story is, the more likely you are to only find success in a niche audience).

Lots of writing advice is useful. Lots of it is contradictory. Lots of it is outdated because audience expectations are changing constantly. There is a balance between what you *should* do as said by other writers, and what you think is right for your story, regardless of what anyone else says.

Just don’t make it confusing.

—

I just dropped my cover art and summary for my debut novel. Go check it out and let me know what you think!

#writing advice #writing resources #writing tips #writing tools #writing a book #writing #writeblr #editing #constructive criticism #what no one tells you about writing

[stackslip]

actually i do have something to say about this chapter and it's quite critical of it but also i'm tired tonight and i've been talking about it long and hard on discord already and putting it all together in a coherent post feels like too much of a task tonight. all i'm gonna say is that part 2 was very obviously going in a certain direction from the start, and i loved that direction, and to an extent it is still going in that direction but now very obviously missing a huge chunk of what stirred it in that direction. and i'm hesitant to simply say it's fujimoto that's dropped the ball on this (though it might the idealization, who's to say) because from the actual shape of the writing + slump in paneling/art + recent bitter interview by fujimoto + japanese audience is apparently vocally not a fan of asa + my own cursed knowledge of shounen jump and shueisha editors and how they react to a fall in sales = i think the lack of focus on asa has really hurt the themes of part 2 when she was an integral part of it + i think this wasn't entirely fujimoto's doing and it's very likely because she is apparently strongly disliked in japan and there's good reason to believe that fujimoto was told to not focus on her nearly as much bc sales slump and people complain as soon as she shows up. which sucks. becaue what made part 2 work as well as it did was the synergy and parallel between the two protagonists' paths, and the absence of asa's path in the past few months (both in universe and by real time in the comic) feels like a genuine writing and thematic and emotional hole in the comic that to me shows that she WAS supposed to be there. fujimoto had fully intended to write her in there bc there's a hole in the shape of her where she is very obviously supposed to fit. it isn't simply a question of "author forgets his female character" it's a question of "this crucial part of the manga is missing and the author is painfully aware of it and bitter about it too"

#eli talks #csm #this is still not coherent i'll make a more coherent version at one point. #anyhow this still worked for me even during the denji megafocus #bc it felt like the boomerang was gonna return and asa was gonna be back in her place #and we were gonna see the counterbalance to denji's focus #her own rise to fame and emotions during this and growth with yoru #her absorption into the church and its horrors; the love bombing and adulation she finally got #the emotions about chainsaw man as a character and growing more reliant on yoru #the bitter and dramatic fall and its immediate aftermath; reacting to losing her arm #instead we get a character who until now had been an intensely emotion-driven and passive character IMMEDIATELY thrust into action #and given v little insight into her thoughts and interiority #something is missing! #it's not like fujimoto had nothing planned for her. she was written so intently and well #and suddenly it's like she dropped out of existence #and suddenly the paneling got worse and the art got worse and the hiatuses worse #and we get an interview from fjmt where he talks bitterly about commercial expectations interfering with artistic intentions #and how he wishes he didn't have to draw aymore #a guy who talked about how he was obsessed with drawing! #idk maybe it's idealization but i feel like it's not hard to put two and two together here

[bambi-kinos]

I just came across your analysis of However Absurd and thought it was lovely. I'm curious, as someone who thinks John and Paul had some kind of romantic or sexual relationship, what is your take on The Lovers That Never Were? Is he using the word "lovers" to mean "partners"? I have always interpreted it to mean that Paul knows there was something there but it never happened. Every time I start to be convinced that they were together in some way I think of this song and the devastating way Paul sings it in the demo and the heartbreaking fact that he still felt it that intensely 13 years after John's death.

Oh wow thank you! The server had a lot of fun discussing that, if it's good it's because I had a little help from my friends heheh (─‿‿─) ♡

I ended up writing a massive novel in response to all this so I hope you enjoy reading it heheh. For server members, I've pulled some quotes from my previous Discord essays on this topic so you'll see some stuff that you've read.

tl;dr - I don't think "The Lovers That Never Were" contradicts the secret relationship theory at all! I think it compliments it very well actually.

In order to get into All That, I will outline how I perceive what their relationship was built on and how they reacted to it. I should note that I don't consider this definitive. It's important to remember that we all have unique interpretations of John and Paul because of our experiences and our personal POVs. There is no single answer until Paul decides to tell us what happened and/or Sean publishes John's diaries (written and audio). Until that happens, we are all forced to look at the same material and draw our own conclusions which will naturally be shaped through our personal perceptions. Some of us are older and are much closer to the original culture that John and Paul were raised in; some of us are younger and grew up in a much more LGBT+ positive environment. This naturally has an impact on how we interpret John and Paul's relationship.

I say this because I know my POV on John and Paul is a bit different from everyone else's. I'm a historian by training but part of being a historian is the understanding that you will never fully understand the events as they happened because your personal viewpoint and inherent bias is simply too strong. But that's okay because this is a part of humanity that we all share, yeah? With that understanding LET'S GO!

Paul My view on Paul is that he's always understood that he's different from other men. I doubt he could put a name to it until very recently. Paul has synesthesia, he's bisexual, he connects to music in a savant-like way, he's neurodivergent which is why he takes criticism so hard, and all of that would still be true even if he didn't have left over emotional issues from his mother dying the way she did + his fraught relationship with his father.

Keep in mind that circumstantial evidence points to the idea that Paul orchestrated the meeting at the fête! He realized he had a mutual friend with John in Ivan (who is to say that he did not meet Ivan at a QM performance and had that mental realization there?) He went through Hot Girl Summer before and after the fête, wanting to be fucking fit so that he wasn't embarrassed to meet John! I did the same thing when I had a crush as a teenager!

So with all that in mind, imagine this: you're Paul McCartney. You met John Lennon barely a year after Mary died. You turned 15 on June 18th, 1957 and met John at the fête on July 6, 1957. At some undetermined point before this garden party you saw a beautiful boy on the bus and began riding it obsessively hoping the Teddie boy would get on it. You followed him to the chippie and stood in line behind him…allegedly because you thought "oh wow he looks so cool." Marky Mark thinks (and I agree) that you may have even followed John to at least one Quarry Man show before the fête. Is this 'normal' behavior? Or is this the unhinged behavior of a teenager with a massive crush? The kind that comes about when you see a cute boy with red hair, and red is the color you associate with happiness, and then you find out that he plays guitar just like you and you follow him around until you see one of his performances and he's so good he knocks you back and then someone says "hi Paul, I didn't know you liked music!" behind you. And you realize that it's your friend and that you can meet the boy you have a crush on through this friend. You just need to lose weight and grow your hair out first.

When did Paul first see John, anyway? Before he turned 15 I'd wager.

I submit the idea that Paul has been in love John Lennon for his entire life. It will be 67 years of love when this July 6th rolls around. John was making a name for himself, he was known around town as "that Lennon." A minor celebrity like we’ve all had in our hometowns. Paul loved music. Before the internet you would go to the town square to hear a band.

Paul did that. Saw John. Pursued him with intent. When John went to Gambier Terrace to be with Stuart, Paul made a nuisance of himself showing up at their parties and playing the proto-version of "Michelle" in front of the girls…and John.

I love you, I love you, I love you That's all I want to say Until I find a way I will say the only words I know that You'll understand

I don't think that a 15 year old Paul McCartney would explicitly label his feelings for John as 'love' or a 'crush' but I do think that's what happened. When you're a teenager, a crush can express itself in many different ways. I used to have a big crush on a girl who was a volleyball player at my junior high school…that expressed itself as intense admiration. I even told one of my friends that I thought she was 'really cool.' It wasn't until later that I realized that I had a crush on her.

But I think that Paul has always known that he's 'different' and that he wasn't like other boys while growing up. Part of his touchiness about his looks comes from being bullied but I also think that he's a lot more self aware than he pretends to be. I think he realized relatively fast how he felt about John (maybe once John picked up with Stuart and Cynthia at art college.) I think he carried that with him for years hence his anguished response to being jilted in Hamburg and how furious he was at John for running off to Spain with Brian. He didn't realize it immediately but once it sticks to you then it fucking sticks. I think that Paul has done a lot internal wrestling with being a bisexual man and what that means for him and that he has been wrestling with it for decades. I think he was fully in the grip of that wrestling as he and John's friendship began growing and Paul realized what was happening to him. He does enjoy women but I also think that he felt it was necessary to pursue them heavily as a young man to camouflage himself.

I don't think a day has gone by since 1957 where Paul has not known what he was. What exactly that means for him…is up for interpretation. That's where the gray area is. But IMO Paul has almost always known that he's sexually attracted to other men and that John woke this in him. The big question for Paul is what he should do about it.

John There's been a lot written about John and his sexuality that I won't rehash here but truthfully I think John was in a similar place to Paul in knowing that he's always had a sexual preference for other men. John was a lot less comfortable about it though. Having unprotected sex with his girlfriends was, IMO, John trying to subconsciously engineer a situation that would "fix" him via an accidental pregnancy necessitating a marriage.

Of course that didn't do anything because it never does. John still felt chemistry with Paul when they met at the fête, with that quote about them "circling each other like cats." IMO John felt something immediately -- it's not entirely clear what -- though I don't think it "love at first sight" like with Paul. IMO their friendship, while still rooted in that chemistry, developed very naturally for John and he got to enjoy a platonic relationship with Paul before he put it all together. I say this because John saw Paul as a kid, not a peer, and that this endured for their lives in Liverpool pre-Hamburg. I struggle to imagine John or Paul deliberately inciting sexual or romantic contact during that time period aside from the group wank sessions (which were really trolling sessions from John.) Like, when Julia died, John went out and sought peers at art college like Cynthia and Stuart, other students his age. John and Paul bonded over losing their mothers and Paul has that quote about pranking people with the "oh yeah…my mum's dead thanks <3" bit but it also seems like John didn't want to be around that all the time. He lost his Uncle George and then his mother, he was starting to think that he was a death-curse on men in his family and that he brought suffering with him. He wanted to be away from that so he took a vacation from music to get a chance of scenery. Which meant putting Paul in a place of competition with Stuart and Cyn but I don't think John was thinking of that initially (though he exploited the situation later.)

Then Hamburg happens and they run wild. I have an entire meta about this that you can read here but I genuinely think John did not see Paul as a full fledged adult and potential sexual partner until they were in Hamburg in the red light district. I think that something happened there that we don't know about, that it's tied up in Stuart deciding to be with Astrid, John jilting Paul, Paul saying "fuck you I'm done" and getting a job at the coil winding factory in Liverpool after being deported, John tracking Paul down and spending weeks (probably) groveling and then giving Paul an ultimatum to come back to the Beatles. All of that screams 'I just realized I'm in love with my best friend and I'm freaking the fuck out' to me lmao.

John and Paul Of course something else changed after that too and John and Paul ended up becoming so close that even the Liverpool squares around them noticed. I think that whatever was going in their relationship, it started here. In the place where John and Paul were equally distraught with each other, the future of the band was uncertain, and Paul wanted a sign of commitment from John so that he didn't feel like he wasted years of his life. And of course John always felt compelled to be the man Paul wanted him to be so he treated Paul to a vacation in Paris which was so life affirming for them that it stayed with them for the rest of their lives. IMO the Paris vacation was explicitly romantic for them.

I think a switch flipped in 1961 and they went from "messing around" to "there's something there." It erupted in Paris and they showed each other more understanding and care then they expected from each other. John did sexy pin up poses for Paul in a bed that they shared; John remembers how the French held each other in their arms and just kissed each other, lovingly; Paul felt that he discovered the answer and that all those big name philosophers had nothing on the self realization he came to inside himself. Paul even took a photo of John that high lighted his package! Thanks to @louiselux for pointing this one out:

The thing was all the kissing and the holding that was going on in Paris. And it was so romantic, just to be there and see them, even though I was twenty-one and sort of not romantic. But I really loved it, the way the people would just stand under a tree kissing; and they weren’t mauling at each other, they were just kissing. — John Lennon, Playboy interview 1980

“We were like Paris existentialists. Jean-Paul Sartre had nothing on us. Sod ‘em all - I could write a novel… It was all inside me. I could do anything now.”

Paul McCartney, Anthology

Something happened in Paris and it wasn't just them getting haircuts and John buying Paul milkshakes. There was commitment there. And then the spell comes over them again when they return in January 1964:

The first night, John and Paul stayed in their suite, listening to records and reading fan mail. George, who had been signed for 100 pounds a day by the Daily Express to write of his experiences in Paris, went to a nightclub in the Place Pigalle.

Back in the City of Light, John and Paul slept till three o'clock in the afternoon. That much everybody agreed on.

Quote by Vincent Mulchrone from Daily Mail: George Harrison was astir early, but John Lennon and Paul McCartney slumbered on until frantic photographers forced them at lens point into the Champs-Élysées.

Derek Taylor (a British journalist) wanted to know why the Beatles slept so much. "My office wants to know what they're doing in Paris, so they'd better be doing something."

Love Me Do by Michael Braun

But I know what you're thinking. "What the hell does this all have to do with these two songs?"

And my reply is to keep a few things in mind:

Paul takes criticism and slights incredibly hard, possibly overreacting in some places and letting them overwhelm him mentally.

He never got over Barcelona, he never stopped resenting Stuart and Brian, he never got over John pulling the rug out from under him regarding the order of their names in the song credits. He contemplated committing suicide by smothering himself while he was in Scotland recovering from John leaving him.

John Lennon had a baby with a woman in the middle of all this. Julian Lennon was born April 8, 1963, conceived in July 1962, less than a year after Paris.

However Absurd & The Lovers That Never Were I listened to "However Absurd" and "The Lovers That Never Were" in that order. My immediate reaction is that these are both the same kind of song: they are both expressing sadness and frustration with John. This is a common theme with Paul's post-1980 John songs. What I find interesting is that they depict different though related gripes regarding John. In "However Absurd" Paul is expressing his longing for a cottagecore fantasy romance with John and then expressing frustration at John mocking him for it:

Ears twitch, like a dog Breaking eggs in a dish Do not mock me when I say This is not a lie

But in "The Lovers That Never Were" Paul expresses a different gripe: frustration that John won't commit to him and "anticipating" the break up that he secretly knew was coming ever since 1963 when John abandoned him and his own son to play patty-cake with Brian in Spain:

I hang patiently on every word you send Will we ever be much more than just friends? As for you, you sit there playing this game You keep me waiting

When all of the clocks have run down All over the world We'll be the lovers that never were

For as long as the sun shines in somebody's eyes I believe in you baby, so don't tell me lies For as long as the trees throw down blossoms and leaves I know there will be a parade of unpainted dreams

And I know dear, how much it's going to hurt If you still refuse to get your hands dirty So you, you must tell me something… I love you Say goodbye or anything

All of the clocks have run down Time's at an end If we can't be lovers we'll never be friends

John's penchant for disregarding Paul's feelings and even weaponizing them against Paul; the dashing of Paul's cottagecore dreams that were made and solidified in Paris; the fact that John, no matter what his intentions, could not get his shit together and commit to Paul no matter what he may have felt. These two songs are not contradictory to one another. Paul's idea of "commitment" looks very much like what he had with Linda and John in 1967: sharing a home, sharing a bed, being together every day, preferably somewhere green and remote. Exclusivity. Remember that Paul deliberately sabotaged his relationship with Jane Asher by nailing a woman in their bed when Jane came home, knowing perfectly well that he was breaking their exclusivity agreement.

That IMO, is what makes someone a lover and not just a friend you have sex with and secretly pine for. No cheating, or at least your agreed version of it. No disrespecting the relationship. Continuously being together. What did John do instead of this?

I think that Paul started out his "relationship" with John carrying high hopes and then watched them crumble to dust, over and over, because John simply did not take him seriously. He got Cynthia pregnant, he ran around on Paul with Brian, he had the nerve to flip out on Jane Asher when Paul brought her around when he was the one who couldn't stay faithful to Cynthia.

My hot take is that these songs demonstrate that Paul simply could not imagine John ever truly committing to him and treating him as a true partner. The homophobia and yes ~society~ is in there too but Paul was happy to flout this when it came to just about anyone else, traipsing all over France with Fraser and Mal. The difference is that he flat out didn't trust John. Being jilted for Stuart in Hamburg loomed too big in his head. Cynthia and Julian loomed too big in his head. Brian and Barcelona, realizing that John would happily betray whatever agreements or understandings he had with Paul simply to screw Paul out of a deal, loomed too big in his head. I think in particular its Barcelona that made Paul think John didn't value any of their professed ideals. John broke Paul's heart years before Yoko came along.

He didn't trust John. Fatalism is easier than taking control of your own life sometimes, and in Paul's mind there was no reason to believe John was genuine. Like, Paul knew John very well! He had very good reason to think that John was simply not serious about him. And John, no matter what his intentions were, proved that correct over and over and over and over.

So ultimately, I think that's what these songs are about. The melodies don't necessarily reflect this when I listened to them but I think that "The Lovers That Never Were" in particular is juxtaposing bitter wink-and-nod lyrics with an oddly perky tune. It's Paul laughing at himself for ever thinking John was willing to commit. He's mocking himself because while he allowed himself to get swept up in the dream of a possible genuine relationship with John, he knew deep down that it would go the way it did. That John would find a reason to get tired of him and abandon him. And then when Yoko came along, that's exactly what John did. Paul fatalistically accepted that the time had come and John met Paul's low expectations of him.

The Weight I don't think John and Paul necessarily planned to have a secret relationship. It seems more like they bundled the sexual/romantic stuff into their "thing" where it was just part and parcel of who they were and what they did. "It's only gay if the balls touch" etc. At some point that changed but Paul became convinced early on that it wouldn't work out so he didn't acknowledge his own secret desires and dreams. There was no roadmap between him and John about where they were taking this exactly and how they were going to make it work. He had sex with John and even engaged with romantic actions with John, hoping against hope that something would change and he would be proven wrong, but then John would be careless and Paul would collapse into hurt.

And oh yeah: Paul never, ever discussed any of this with John Lennon. He never told John how hurt he was because he didn't want to put up with John's derision. He felt devalued and lost and in typical Paul fashion he chose to ignore this for years and never bring it up, forcing it to come out in bizarre nonsensical actions when he inevitably boiled over. Why would he choose to confront it? He made sure to set up several safety nets to catch him! Jane and the Ashers, striking out on his own with "The Family Way" score, rubbing John's face in his escapades with other males as a way to go 'see, I don't need you just like you don't need me. How about THAT?'

I don't think John ever intended to hurt Paul as badly as he did. He thought that if Paul was upset about something then he would know via their ~telepathic connection.~ I think that he deliberately overlooked warning signs because he felt intensely guilty about certain actions he took (God only knows which ones) and that he helped himself not see Paul's hurt. I do think if he had the slightest idea of what was going on in Paul's head then he would have changed tactics immediately out of fear of losing Paul forever. But at heart John was a coward and if he didn't want to see something was wrong then he wouldn't see it unless something forced his hand. Like say, having his former best friend/ex-lover look him in the eye and go "I can write new songs" and kill The Beatles in a court of law. (And of course once he realized what he had done, years after the fact, it was too little too late. He couldn't take it back. How do you make up for inflicting that much hurt on someone that you supposedly care for? This paralyzed John for years.)

This was obviously a huge mistake and I think it was one of the landmines that blew their relationship up. Paul allowed his distrust and bitterness to overwhelm him. He should have been honest with John about his feelings; maybe not immediately but when they were able to look back with some perspective. Paul should have realized that their relationship could take heat. He should have trusted John more and if he had then John could have risen to the occasion. Everything could have been different. No more "I believe in you baby, so don't tell me lies." No more "Do not mock me when I say/This is not a lie."

He even expresses this in a third song, one that IMO puts this entire thing into perspective and ties these three songs together with a neat bow. "This One":

Did I ever take you in my arms, look you in the eye Tell you that 'I do?' Did I ever open up my heart And let you look inside?…

Did I ever touch you on the cheek Say that you were mine, thank you for the smile? Did I ever knock upon your door Try to get inside?…

Please take note of the bolded "Tell you that 'I do'!" Paul's deepest regret with regards to John is not trusting him more. He wishes that he had opened up to John about his hurt and how he angry he was that John was devaluing their relationship. That he wanted to commit to John but that he was scared John wouldn't say 'I do' back.

From John's POV he's just being John; he's looking out for the band. God knows he tried to be what Paul needed him to be but he got mixed signals and inconsistent behavior and Paul's ice queen behavior frustrated him to no end. This resulted in an endless circle of "fuck you/no no no, fuck YOU/well fuck you then!/fuck you" that ended up killing what they had.

But John is guilty in this too. He never made himself accountable to Paul. He didn't explain his actions. He acted rashly and selfishly and then was shocked when it blew up in his face. He didn't consistently act like he loved Paul. He took Paul for granted and told himself that he was doing the right thing, because changing your behavior is very very hard. He didn't let Paul in when it mattered.

Did you ever take me in your arms Look me in the eye, tell me that 'you do?'

As Paul grew up and he started to come to grips with the "What happened" of it all, maybe he realized that he had procrastinated. That he put off what mattered most because he couldn't bear to make himself vulnerable as a young man. Maybe he was waiting for a perfect moment to open himself up to John knowing perfectly well it would never arrive, a common delaying tactic for insecure and avoidant people. Not admitting that the perfect moment would never come and that he had to extend trust to receive it in return.

If I never did it, I was only waiting For a better moment that didn't come There never could be a better moment Than this one, this one

I think he's still angry at John for multiple betrayals, slaps to the face, and devaluing the specialness of their relationship and their affection for each other. But I also think that Paul is angry at himself for not trusting John, for not working harder at their relationship. He also delivered multiple betrayals and slaps to the face to John, feeding John's insecurity and fears of abandonment. Making a mockery of their relationship and how special it was. Paul has been doing public penance for this ever since John died, which snapped everything into perspective and he finally realized the full scope of his own screw ups.

Because it took two to destroy a relationship this intense and this special. If Paul did not know that before...

Well. He does now.

#the beatles #mclennon #john lennon #paul mccartney #mclennon meta #my meta #mclennon server #this was a really fun ask anon thank you!

[cailenbraern]

Not sure if I can fully articulate my thoughts about Jaskier’s growth as an artist throughout the seasons of The Witcher but I'm going to give it a go.

Because when we meet him in season 1 , he's more or less just starting out. He's fresh from Oxenfurt and determined to make a name for himself on the continent. The trouble is, he's got nothing to draw on. He's still young so his experience is negligible. He performs songs about monsters and creatures with little accuracy or meaning, and we meet him being jeered and pelted with food.

Meeting Geralt gives him a new inspiration for original songs, although he's not truthful, particularly in Toss a Coin. As Geralt said, that's not what happened, and Jaskier responds with respect doesn't make history. He's still too young and too inexperienced to realise what impact his songs can have, and he's solely determined to improve the reputations of Witchers along with his own reputation.

The two other songs in season 1 are Fishmongers Daughter, which I'm not going to discuss in any detail, and Her Sweet Kiss. Now one cane argue that the latter is heavily drawn from personal emotion and feeling, but the end result is a fairly normal ballad style of song with poetry as lyrics and vivid imagery and metaphors. It's a start, but Jaskier still has a long way to go.

Then we get to season 2, where we find Jaskier in the early stages of recognition. We see him performing in a packed bar, with accompaniment, and the crowd are lapping it up. It helps that the song he's singing comes, as per his own words, from the heart. Burn Butcher, Burn is 100% emotion, 100% authentic, and gone is the poetry. The lyrics are raw and passionate.

Despite this, we're led to believe that he found his fame with The Golden One. In contrast with BBB, this song lacks any emotional punch. It's purely a story or anecdote set to music. A fun little ditty, but unless you can suspend your disbelief, if open to criticism. As happens when attempting to smuggle the Elves onto the ship.

Now, we know that at this point, Jaskier has done and seen and experienced far more things than he had in season 1, and this has left an impact on him. He has matured and developed his sense of empathy and his kindness so much more than the immature travelling bard showed in Posada, thanks tp witnessing the violence and persecution of the elves, while also dealing with his own broken heart. Yet he's still clinging on to his want and desire to be respected and applauded for his skill and talent in writing and singing songs, so we see that he does not take criticism well.

More happens in season 2 to shape and form him, Rience's torture for one, the massacre at Kaer Morhen, his friendship with Yennefer and his mending (such as it is) of his friendship with Geralt along with the continuing politics all across the continent.

I do have a soft spot for Whoreson Prison Blues. The first two verses are beautiful, followed by a very crude, very catchy chorus. I can't imagine he would include it in future sets, but it's so personal to him in that moment that I love it.

Little wonder that by Season Three, we are met with yet more changes in our bard. His words to Radovid stating that he doesn't 'do pretty' suggest to me that he has consciously decided to move away from filling his songs with poetry and imagery and is focused more on honesty and truth. Extraordinary Things which immediately follows is a perfect demonstration of Jaskier singing openly and from the heart.

But what I wanted to get to in this long winded post, is that this is the season we finally see the Emotional Impact Jaskier's songs have on other people. No criticisms, no jokes, just the power of his music.

Whatever your opinion on Radovid and his motivations, Extraordinary Things affected him. You can see this in his reaction as he hears it for the first time, and he so clearly can't get it out of his head after hearing it only one time, that he goes above and beyond to learn it.

Next is Ciri, and we see Jaskier singing a lullaby (which he may or may not have written himself, jury's out on that) to her. Later, in the desert, she sings the lullaby back to herself, drawing strength and courage from it. This power has been given by Jaskier through his singing, making her feel safe and loved in a vulnerable moment.

Finally, Eternal Flowers, which I'll say here, is the best I've ever heard Joey sing, both on the album version and in the live performance on the show. He has his lute, but he lays it down like laying down a weapon. It's just him, stripped bare, open, vulnerable, honest, true. This is not his song, but he feels the emotion and the message as thought it was. His empathy is shining. It moves him to tears, but not only him, the Dryads also feel the emotion he is channelling, and it moves them to tears.

I don't have much of a conclusion to this ramble, but TL;DR, Jaskier’s songwriting and art has evolved over the three seasons and his bardic power is a might force to be reckoned with. He will be remembered long after Valdo for his honesty and beauty.

Not pretty. Real.

#jaskier #the witcher #spoilers #season 3 #twn spoilers #twn season 3 #joey batey #i cant articulate

[babydollmarauders]

BACK TO DECEMBER — MARK ESTAPA

mark estapa x fem!reader

part of the Speak Now Fic List

summary: in which y/n sees Mark for the first time since their breakup last december and struggles being around him while still being hopelessly in love.

warnings: just lots of angst. no happy ending.

notes: so many “specific lyrics” that i couldn’t even write them all, so this one is pretty much just the song as a whole.

another note: FIRST TIME WRITING FOR STOP SIGN! WHOOP WHOOP! i’m sorry for this.

not my gif

my heart aches, hand shaking as i pull open the door of the diner. stepping into the mostly empty restaurant, my eyes sweep the expanse of the eatery, in search of the boy i’m meeting. but showing up twenty minutes early has assured me that’s he’s yet to show.

putting my free time to use, i make my way to the restroom, pushing the door open and attempting a deep inhale as i stop in front of the mirror.

my eyes bore into the reflection in front of me, criticizing myself. my purple sundress feels too tight with my anxiety squeezing my diaphragm, making it hard for me to suck in a full breath.

i stare straight ahead, looking into my own eyes as i shake my arms out, trying to rid myself of any awkward feelings or stiffness.

“you can do this.” my whisper echoes off the tiled walls of the diner bathroom as a toilet flushes and a girl steps out of a stall.

i step out of her way as she walks over to a sink, washing her hands. she looks towards me as i attempt another deep breath.

“i don’t know what your doing, but i agree; you can do this.” she tells me, a small smile on her lips as she dries her hands with paper towel.

“oh- thank you.” i send a weak smile in return and she winks as she steps out of the bathroom and back into the seating area.

i follow her lead, fully planning on finding a table, but within two steps, my eyes land on the head of blond hair that i had been searching for when i first arrived.

he sits in a booth at the side of the diner, his back towards me, and i’m immediately transported back to that fateful night one year ago.

**DECEMBER 29TH. 1 YEAR AGO**

“Mark.” my voice cuts through the white noise of the radio and my boyfriend turns it off, silence falling over the car.

he turns his head to look at me, a grin on his lips, before turning back to look at the road.

“what’s up, babygirl?” my heart clenches at the pet name and my eyes drop to the red roses in my lap, my fingers pick lightly at the petals; not tearing them off, but fluffing them to make the flowers seem fuller.

“i-” my voice shakes and tears sting at my eyes as i gather my courage. “i think we should break up.”

Mark’s hand drops mine on the center console, our fingers unlacing as he puts the car into park as we pull up in front of my house.

“what?” he’s hurt, i can hear it in his tone, and it makes this all so much harder. i didn’t want to hurt him. “what are you talking about? is it the date? i thought you were having fun, but you could’ve told me if you didn’t wanna go bowling.”

“it’s not the bowling, Mark.” i throw my head back, staring up at the roof of the car to try and delay my tears.

“then what’s wrong? because i thought we were doing great!” his words are urgent, defensive. “we just started saying ‘i love you’ like two months ago, y/n. what could’ve changed in these past couple months?”

“i know! i just-” i’m cut off by Mark.

“at least look at me if you’re gonna break up with me.” i avert my gaze, finally looking towards him, but i regret it instantly. his eyes are red, i’m not the only one holding back tears.

“i just- i took my gap year, but i started school this semester and my sister’s gotten in my head that, ya know, college is about freedom and not being tied down. doing new things and figuring out who you are. and maybe she’s right.”

“so i’m tying you down?” his face contorts in offense as he shakes his head in disbelief. “i’m holding you back from feeling free?”

“no! i- that’s not what i meant!” i shake my head, letting out a sigh of frustration. i can’t seem to say the right words. “i’m just saying that i think i need to try being single in college, ya know? you got a whole year of that. you were single all of your freshman year. but this is my time to try that.”

i’ve said the wrong thing. i know it because i can see the walls building up behind his eyes. his face turns blank, stony as he just nods, turning to look back out the front windshield.

“right.” the one word is harsher than i ever though it could possibly be. “i think you should just go, y/n.”

“Mark, i wanna talk about this.” i plead as i unbuckle my seatbelt, turning fully in my seat to face him.

“i think we’ve talked enough. you wanna break up. it’s whatever, now i want you to get out of my car.” he tells me as he presses the unlock button, motioning his head towards my door.

i nod, opening the car door and stepping out into the cold, winter, Michigan air. i set the roses down on my seat, not wanting a reminder of this night, of this fight.

“goodbye.” i tell him, an icy tear rolling down my cheek as i shut the passenger door and step back. i walk up to my porch, listening to Mark’s engine start back up, gravel crunching as he peels out of my driveway.

i can’t help but turn and watch him leave, his car disappearing down the street.

**PRESENT DAY**

i steel myself, shaking my head to get rid of the awful memory before i walk over, stopping in front of the table.

Mark is sitting on his phone, typing out a text, but as he looks up at me, he locks it, placing it screen down on the table.

“hey.” he exhales, a small smile rests on his lips, confusing me but also relaxing me.

he doesn’t seem to be mad anymore.

“hi, Mark.” i smile back, already feeling so much more comfortable in his presence.

“uh, do you wanna sit?” he asks me, chuckling. i let a small huff of laughter out at my stupidity as i nod, taking a seat across from him.

“i’m so glad you made time to see me.” i confess, anxiously running my hands down the lap of my dress to smooth out any wrinkles.

“yeah, me too. i have to admit, i wasn’t sure about it at first. Ethan had to talk me into saying yes, but, now that i’m here, i’m glad i did.” he tells me, and any leftover anxious feelings disappear at his admission. we’re on the same page, happy to see each other.

a waitress comes to take our orders and just like he did all that time ago, Mark orders for me.

“i’ll have a BLT with extra bacon, and french fries with a coke. and she’ll have the strawberries and cream pancakes with turkey bacon on the side and a hot chocolate with extra whipped cream.” the waitress nods and gathers our menus before leaving to place our order.

“you remembered my order.” i laugh and he looks at me with the expression of a deer in headlights.

“oh, shit, i’m sorry. i hope that’s still you’re order. i guess it was subconscious, to order for you.” i lay a hand on his arm in reassurance.

“it’s okay. yeah, that’s still my order.” i tell him and he sighs in relief and nods.

“great.” i take my hand back and play with my fingers.

“so, how’s life?” i ask him. “tell me, how’s your family? i haven’t seen them in a while.”

“life’s good!” he smiles, nodding with a faraway look. “life’s really good. i’ve been good, but busy. we made it to the frozen four again last season. we didn’t win but, we made it, and that’s all that matters. and my family’s good! John and my parents are great.”

my smile falters at his answer. i didn’t want him to be miserable, of course not. but, i also didn’t expect him to be so happy without me in his life.

“that’s great. i’m really glad.” it’s the truth, of course i’m glad that he’s been good.

“what about you? how’s work? are you still running the media for your school’s baseball team?” the small talk continues.

“i’ve been okay. yeah, i’m still doing that. it’s been pretty good. stable, ya know?”

he nods in understanding and it’s quiet for a brief moment as we look out the diner window next to us. snow flurries down outside, thick clouds hanging in the sky.

“it’s really coming down hard out there. i’m glad we got in here before the storm started.” he chats.

“yeah, although the roads are definitely gonna be icy.” he nods at my words and i can tell by the meaningless small talk that his guard is up. i can’t blame him, the last time we saw each other was when i broke up with him, breaking both of our hearts in one night.

the conversation is tabled when our food arrives and we fall into silence as we eat, and out of a force of habit, i stick half of my turkey bacon on his plate.

halfway through our meal, it seems that Mark can no longer hold in his confusion.

“why did you ask me here?” i set my fork down at his question, preparing myself to bare my heart.

“i wanted to tell you i’m sorry for that night.” i admit. i play with my mug of hot cocoa out of nerves.

“why now?” he asks. “why a year later?”

“i haven’t been sleeping lately.” i tell him. “i’ve just been laying in bed playing back that night in my head. i have so many regrets, and my biggest one is not staying in the car with you.”

he draws in a deep breath, glancing at his phone before looking back up at me.

“ya know, i thought we could get past it? i thought it was just a bump in our relationship and you would realize that you made a mistake and everything would be okay.

“and then my birthday passed, and you never called. you didn’t even text. and that’s when i knew that you were serious. i realized that we were really broken up.”

his words bring tears to my eyes.

“i’m sorry.” my voice shakes. “i’m so sorry, Mark.”

“it’s okay, y/n.” he shakes his head. “i get it. you wanted a taste of the college freedom.”

i shake my head, a frown making itself apparent on my lips.

“it turns out freedom is nothing but missing you.” i confess. “i’ve been thinking about last summer a lot lately. when we would sneak away from our friends and go on those late night drives. i realized i liked you as more than a friend for the first time when i was watching you laugh on one of those drives.

“you were so carefree. you were the opposite of me. no worries, no stress. just living in the moment. and then we started dating and everything in the world felt… right. i felt safe with you. i felt at home. and then we both left for school and we were so far apart and i was so worried that you wouldn’t want me anymore. but then you were you. you called me every night and you sent me flowers and even from miles away, you made sure i wasn’t working myself too hard. and i fell in love with you that fall.”

i look down at my half full plate as he chews on his lip.

“but then i came home from winter break. and fear crept into my mind. my sister started telling me that you probably hated being tied down when you have so many girls that want you. she said i should be single in order to have the full college experience. she said i shouldn’t be pining over a guy that probably wished he didn’t have to call me after all of his games. that you probably hated having a girlfriend that you couldn’t even really be with. so i listened to her. i thought that she was older and wiser so she was probably right.”

i look back up at him as tears roll down my face. i held my tears in until i was out of his car last december, making this only the second time he’s ever actually seen me cry and his expression is filled with the exact same worry as it was the first time.

**SEPTEMBER 20TH, 2022**

i sit on Mark’s bed, watching as he folds clothes to put in his suitcase.

he’s leaving.

we both are.

i knew this day would come. that summer would end and we’d have to leave each other.

i knew it when we started this relationship three months ago. i just didn’t think it would hurt this bad.

my breath hitches as i watch him fold up my favorite shirt of his, sticking it in his suitcase, and i realize that for the next 3 months, i won’t see him wear it again. i won’t see him again.

“actually, babe, do you think i could keep that one?” i ask him, pulling the shirt out of the travel bag that rests beside me.

“what?” he laughs and i almost feel stupid for asking. “you wanna keep my shirt?”

“ya know what? yeah, it’s- it’s stupid. nevermind.” i place the shirt back in the suitcase, scrunching my nose up and subtly pinching my eyes closed in attempt to hold back my tears.

i look the opposite direction, blinking a few times to try to get rid of the salt water stinging my eyes.

“hey.” his voice is gentle, soft, as he crouches down to his knees in front of me. his hands rest gently on my thighs. “look at me, please.”

i gather my courage, averting my gaze to look into his eyes. his face is filled with worry, his eyebrows raised in concern. he crawls onto the bed, pulling me into his side as the tears escape my eyes.

“what’s wrong? hmm?” he caresses my cheek, tilting my head to look up at him.

“i’m gonna miss you.” i tell him. i bite my lip, holding back a sob.

“i’m gonna miss you more, sweet girl.” he whispers, planting a light kiss on the tip of my nose. “but these next few months are gonna fly by, and then we’ll see each other over winter break. and then spring break. and then finally, it’ll be summer again. and before you know it, you’ll be getting sick of me again.”

he brushes a tear away with his thumb.

“you’re gonna be telling me ‘gosh Mark, give me some space!’” he raises his pitch, mocking my voice and making me let out a watery giggle amongst my tears.

“i will not!” i smack his chest lightly.

“okay, yeah, maybe not. you’ll actually be all over me, and i’ll eat up every second of it.” he jokes.

“holding you.” he squeezes me tighter, pulling me into his lap.

“kissing you.” he cups my face, pulling my lips to his and laying a sweet kiss against them.

“touching you.” his hands slide down my body to rest on my hips.

“keep the shirt, baby.” he tells me before raising his eyebrows. “but i expect to see you wearing it on facetime. think you can do that?”

i giggle nodding my head. “yeah, i can do that.”

“good.” he reaches over, grabbing the shirt out of the suitcase. he hands it to me and i hug it to my chest. “you feeling better now, pretty girl?”

i nod, leaning forward to lay my head on his chest, and his arms snake around me, holding me to him.

“good. cause that was the first time i’ve seen you cry and i hated every second of it.”

**PRESENT DAY**

“y/n, your sister was wrong.” he tells me. his hand moves to lay atop of mine, rubbing it with his thumb to provide a sense of comfort for me as i wipe away my tears.

“i didn’t care that other girls wanted me, all i wanted was you. i loved calling you after games. i loved hearing you share in my excitement when we won, or giving me pep talks when we lost.

“did i love that i couldn’t be with you? no. but that didn’t mean i wanted to break up. i loved you.”

loved.

past tense.

my heart aches as i slide my hand out from under his, my stomach churning in discomfort.

his phone buzzes on the table and he glances at it once again before looking back at me.

“maybe this is wishful thinking; but if we loved again, i swear i’d love you right this time.” i sigh. “i just wanted you to know that. i miss you. i’m so happy you’re doing great, but i’m not. i miss your sweet smile. i miss how you looked at me like i was the only girl in the world. i miss loving you. i miss our late night talks when we should’ve been studying. i miss hearing about your games. i even miss hearing Ethan’s obnoxious teasing when we were talking way later than we should’ve been. i miss you, even as just a friend, like before we were dating. and i know it’s probably much too late, but i go back to December all the time and i just needed you to know that i’m so sorry for that night. and i’d go back in time and change it if i could, but i can’t.”

he sighs, licking his lips and looking down at his hands.

“y/n-” i cut him off.

“you don’t have to say anything, Mark. i just wanted you to know.” he nods but speaks anyways.

“i’m in a good place, y/n. i’m happy. i appreciate your apology, but it’s okay. it was probably for the best, anyways.” he shrugs.

for the best.

right.

“oh- okay.” tears escape my eyes, rolling down my cheeks again.

“i’m sorry that you’re not happy. i really am. and if there was anything else i could do to change that, i would. it hurts me to know that you’re hurting because you still hold a special place in my heart. you were my best friend for so long, and you were my first love.”

i nod in understanding, steeling myself and preparing for the meeting to end.

his phone buzzes once more and this time he picks it up. i watch his face as he looks at the notification, and my heart drops at his expression.

the way his eyes light up. the way the corners of his lips curl up just slightly, like he’s trying not to smile. the way the corners of his eyes crinkle.

i know that look.

it’s the same way that his friends said he looked at his phone when my contact would pop up.

he’s in love.

with someone who’s not me.

“who is she?” i can’t help but ask. i keep my tone light. not accusing, but genuinely curious.

he quickly puts his phone down, looking back at me with wide eyes.

“what?” he asks, feigning obliviousness.

“who is she? the girl on your phone.” i send him a watery smile, silently assuring him that it’s okay.

“her name is Anna.” he admits, his shoulders slumping in ease. “she’s my… girlfriend. we started dating in May, right before the summer. she works media for the team.”

i nod along as he speaks, a soft teary smile masking the fact that it feels like my heart is being ripped to shreds.

“i hope she makes you happy.” i tell him, and i mean it. i really want him happy. regardless of who’s causing it.

“she does.” he’s gentle with his words, obviously not wanting to hurt me. but he isn’t the one who hurt me, i did.

“did she come home with you?” i ask him, fearing that i already know the answer.

“yeah.” he tells me, biting his lip.

“go to her.” i whisper, mustering one more small smile.

“y/n, i-” he starts but i shake my head.

“go. it’s okay.” i assure him. “you heard what i wanted you to hear. now, go home to your girlfriend and your family. enjoy your break.”

he nods, fishing out his wallet and setting some cash on the table.

“it was really nice seeing you, y/n. maybe i’ll see you around.” he tells me, standing up and putting his coat back on before he braves the snowy night.

“yeah, maybe.” i smile up at him and he gives me one in return before walking away.

i look out the window beside the table as he walks out to his car. the same car that i broke both our hearts in. and i watch as he drives out of the parking lot. it reminds me eerily of that night last December.

i avert my gaze to the table top, spotting the cash he left. enough to cover both our meals. and i can’t help but cry.

i did this to myself. i let my fears get the best of me, and now he’s happy without me. and i’ll have to sit on the sidelines and watch as he spends his life with someone else. someone who can love him better than i could.

#speak now fic list #mark estapa #mark estapa x reader #mark estapa blurb #mark estapa fic #umich imagine #umich hockey #umich fic #umich blurb #faithlynn’s writings <3

[convolutings]

I’m gonna say something probably controversial that I feel like people are ignoring regarding making criticisms of the PJO show: just because Rick was involved in the creation and writing of the show doesn’t mean it is beyond criticism or even (super controversial) that it’s good.

RR is a novelist who relies heavily on first person narrative and internal monologue to tell his stories. That is hard AF to translate and adapt to screen. He’s also written so many other books and thought so much about changes he would make that it just feels like he’s rewriting the series instead of adapting it.

And yes, I’m sure Disney has some restrictions (Gabe) and there are changes that work well (Medusa). But come on, just because the actors are good doesn’t mean the story is good.

The little quips feel out of place, they are figuring things out too fast (worked for Medusa, didn’t work for Lotus Casino), and there is too much exposition and not enough exploring and fully fleshing out the fights (Alecto/Ms Dodds) plus moments that just did not need to be changed (Waterland). And because of all that the pacing is weird (the literal pace of the plot too like passing the solstice). He also changed which characters experience certain moments that seem vital (Percy figuring out Sally is in the Underworld, Percy & The Fates). And trying to pretend like this isn’t true because of small moments that are wonderful is dumb. I should feel like I HAVE to watch the next episode the way I kept turning the page and staying up to read the next chapter and I definitely don’t feel that.

The fans (and Rick) hated the movies not just because of the character assassinations but because of how far it deviated from the plot. Just because this series checked off the marks that the movie missed (Mr D. and Clarisse, St Louis, Ares and the Waterpark) doesn’t mean the plot is actually being followed. There’s a difference between changes needed for a screen adaptation and plot changes. If we had been expecting a fully changed adaptation that would be different. But we were promised a faithful adaptation and that’s not this.

I’m still gonna watch it because I want to see where it goes and I want to support the cast but I’m disappointed. And I’m tired of pretending that I’m not for fear of being called a fake fan or racist, because Leah as Annabeth and the casting as a whole is one of the only things I do love.

#pjo #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo tv show #Rick Riordan #Disney plus #disappointed #bad tv #criticism #controversial opinion

[leikeliscomet]

“But We Love Martha Jones!” - The Doctor Who Fandom’s Selective Memory of Racism

Chapter 3 - Martha vs Bill

Moffat took us to a Bristol university in 2017, to meet the bright, friendly, chip-serving Bill Potts, the first Black lesbian companion of Doctor Who. Bill’s entrance wasn’t met with sunshine and rainbows either, with complaints of “PC agendas” and the accusation of her sexuality being “shoved down our throat” following her throughout Series 10. She was often called annoying and accused of being too angry. Her outbursts at Twelve weren’t fully well received, despite them only happening as a response to being emotionally manipulated and being shot and converted into a Cyberman against her will. Overreactions, right? That being said, Bill seems to have a more positive reception than Martha did and this can be pointed towards the writing. Moffat decided S10 would focus on Bill’s race and had the 12th Doctor bravely punch Sutcliff after his anti-black comments about her. This was mostly well received by the fandom and the Doctor was praised for taking initiative. How I feel about this scene and how Doctor Who handles race can be explained in way more detail for later but I can sum it up by saying I didn’t hate the scene: but I don't love it either. The racism Bill receives is barely mentioned again apart from a small comment in Oxygen, plus I see this scene constantly used to shut down any valid criticism about how race was handled in the Moffat era. Twelve is centred in this scene, not Bill. The fact this scene is referred to as “Twelve punches the racist” and not “Bill experienced racism” speaks for itself.

Leading back to Martha, a weird parallel is made between her and Bill. Yes, RTD and Moffat are different people who wrote different people but a parallel is there regardless; A brown-skinned woman expected to defend and save her white male incarnation whilst barely praised for it and constantly compared to her blonde white female predecessor, versus, the light-skinned woman who was actually defended by her white male incarnation. It's not the best look. The show set up the parallel by having Bill reference Martha’s butterfly effect conversation with Ten and the fandom carried this on. As much as I love Bill, her being held up as the Black companion “done right” has always felt wrong because not only are there critiques to be made about Moffat’s handling of Black characters too (Danny Pink anyone?), it reinforces Martha as the “failed” Black companion. “Moffat wrote Bill to do XYZ whilst RTD wrote Martha to do ABC” became “Bill did this and Martha didn’t so Bill was better Black representation!” Bill spoke about racism and Martha didn’t (even though she did in Shakespeare Code and Human Nature/Family of Blood), Bill wore her natural hair and Martha didn’t (even though Freema didn’t control the costumes), Bill did everything right (as if Martha did everything wrong).

Bill being placed on the pedestal of the “perfect Black companion” not only erases the antiblackness her character also experienced but reinforces how her darker counterparts, Martha, Mickey and Ryan, “fail” in comparison and “fail” in their Blackness, over reasons the characters nor actors themselves had any control over. It really begs the question of how different Bill would’ve been treated if she was darker, but I guess we’ll never know. If we’re gonna praise and uplift POC in Doctor Who, specifically Black characters, we need to uplift them in all shades. Only supporting the lightest person in the room whilst saying they’re better than the darker ones is not the anti-racist serve this fandom thinks it is.

<- Chapter 2 Chapter 4 ->

#martha jones #bill potts #doctor who #doctor who fandom #dw fandom #fandom racism #antiblackness #rtd era #rtd critical #moffat era #moffat critical #colourism #colorism #fandom colourism #black representation #fandom analysis #fandom history #freema agyeman #new who #doctor who analysis #doctor who series 10 #dr who fandom #rtd #rtd1 #fandom antiblackness

[alwaysahiccupandastrid]

As an autistic person, I want to say something about The Good Doctor.

Over the last month or so - but especially the last two days - Twitter has gone nuts about dragging the absolute piss out of this show. Because autism representation is so rare in major television shows or movies, I’ve been finding myself questioning whether The Good Doctor is in fact “good” representation in the slightest or if I’m just clinging onto it because it’s one of the few shows out there with an autistic lead… and people dragging the shit out of it has made me even more unsure because I’ve only seen one and a half seasons of the show so far and so I can’t really speak on how the show has done recently in regards to portraying autism.

Personally, do I feel that Shaun in TGD represents me and how I am autistic? No. But to be honest, I wasn’t expecting him to because autism is a spectrum and the areas where my autism affects my life will be different to other people’s; it’s also worth noting that it’s been shown that autistic traits are different in girls than in boys, and that girls tend to mask more etc. Obviously this does not apply to ALL boys and ALL girls, but in general it’s thought that girls and women tend to have different traits to boys and men.

With this in mind, Shaun actually does remind me at times of a child at the school I’m currently at - again, not 100% the same but there’s similarities in regards to how they talk, what they say etc. However, that child is five-nearly-six, and Shaun is a grown man so… do with that information what you will. There have also been a couple of moments I’ve had so far watching the show where it’s seemed like lightening has struck and I’m like “Oh that’s me!” - namely the social awkwardness and a meltdown scene. It’s not every episode, it’s only on occasion, but it’s been nice to see nonetheless because the only other time I’ve witnessed that with an actual confirmed autistic character is Newt Scamander.

Obviously I don’t speak for all autistic people, and I’m very aware that many other autistic people have expressed dislike and criticism of the show - and I get it, I truly do. I do think the show isn’t exactly the best written (to put it nicely) and that it gives a very stereotypical representation of autism, namely “white boy/man autism”. I don’t want to bash the show too much because while I’ve seen complaints about it, I’ve also had some fellow autistic people say to me that they love the show and that they feel Shaun represents them - and that’s great.

I do want to express my discomfort about the fact that people have turned a scene where Shaun is having a meltdown into a meme. There is a very fine line between criticizing a piece of media for bad representation and then mocking autistic meltdowns - and I think a lot of neurotypicals are in fact just using it as an excuse to laugh at autistic people and mock us. It’s not just that scene either: I’ve seen people mocking clips showing how he stands, how he talks, how he interacts with people, and it very much feels like people just wanted a chance to make ableist comments about autistic people.

It’s also interesting that this show has so far had six whole seasons air, it’s got extremely high viewership, and yet it’s only now that people are taking offence to a scene that occurred at least four years ago. I know that Twitter has had a field day over another scene in the first season where Shaun at first struggles to understand why a trans woman is “she” (which, you know, is a whole other kettle of fish given that I’ve seen it claimed that autistic people are more likely to be trans/NB etc), and far right TERFs/bigots were using that scene as some kind of “gotcha!”… right up until it was pointed out that by the end of the episode, Shaun fully accepted the trans woman’s gender identity and used the correct pronouns.

Again, I’m not saying this was brilliant writing or anything, but it was several years ago and is only now being brought up, same with other scenes taken out of context in the show… Yes, autistic people have voiced grievances with it before, but were ignored - I don’t believe for one minute that the neurotypicals making the memes and being preachy give one shit about actually autistic people or care about us, because otherwise why were our voices ignored before? It’s only now that it’s been getting public notice for the trans episode that people are going “ohhhh this show sucks and is bad representation” as if members of the autistic community haven’t voiced that opinion for years. It just rubs me the wrong way quite frankly.

What I will say is that I’m tired of seeing people drag Freddie Highmore though. He’s a good actor, anyone who’s seen him in things he’s done since his childhood will know that, it’s not his fault if he’s given shit scripts to work with. I do also think Freddie means well with his portrayal, even if he’s (as far as we know) allistic and the fact he appeared in an Autism $peaks video (because of TGD/all the cast did it) - the man has zero social media presence whatsoever though and didn’t even know what Pokémon Go was, so I’m going to give him the benefit of the doubt this time and assume he truly hasn’t been informed about how harmful that organisation is. Or maybe I’m just going soft on him because seven year old me had an age appropriate crush on him eighteen years ago, who knows at this point?

I’m hoping all of this talk will open up a dialogue about the show and about the representation of autism, if nothing else.

#the good doctor #shaun murphy #freddie highmore #autistic #actually autistic #autism

[clfixationstation]

twt ems on their "shipping ea is inherently misogynistic" bs again

sorry I'm just going to rant about twt silliness for a bit

ah yes, preferring another Eren ship means that you're misogynistic & hate Mikasa, because if you ship ea it must be because you hate her

I understand this criticism because I know this specific flavor of misogyny is very common in fandoms. But truthfully, I haven't seen any of that sentiment from eas. I've seen it with many other mlm ships, but luckily not with ea. Most eas I've encountered either love Mikasa, or simply criticize some of the misogyny in her writing & wish she was written better because she's really cool as a concept.

for me at least, I haven't been able to fully get behind em (despite really trying) because I adore Mikasa. I think she deserves better than how Eren treats her for much of the show - it's sad to me to see such an incredible girl devoted to someone who refused to show her affection beyond jealousy & protective violence for most of the show (+ scarf ig). That is my own perspective based on my own experiences, and other people are allowed to have their own interpretations. on the other had I want em because that's what Mika wants :(

also, hate to break it to you, but eas don't see Mikasa as competition - either because that's a stupid and misogynistic view, or because she's not even a contender in their view of ema. Many also enjoy aruani and love annie, some prefer jeankasa or mikannie or mikasasha, and some even like em too - they aren't throwing Mikasa under the bus because they hate her. They're simply focused on ea (as many ems are focused on em) or they're expressing critique and disappointment in the writing of Mikasa's character, which is not inherently misogynistic!

In my own posts, until they're ea specific, I tend to include Mikasa. Partially to counter that perception, but also because I like her and understand her role in the story and in ema

Irritation or resentment among eas tends to come from homophobia and heteronormativity in writing and in fandom, and/or from the very overwhelming em fandom. Again, not at Mikasa, who is a fictional character subject to the whims of a studio!

also, sometimes people are queer and just prefer queer ships, simple as that

but hey, at least it's free entertainment!

#cl thoughts #i just want to get my thoughts out #this is so unimportant #mikasa ackerman #eremin #erearu #I guess I can't speak for all eas I'm sure some are misogynistic #just not in my experience #multishipper #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #aot manga #aot screencaps #eren x armin

[autistichalsin]

Sorry, another "and one more thing" about this Halsin stuff, but there is one aspect of this Halsin vs Minthara debacle that is causing me, as an abuse victim, a lot of pain. And i know I am probably projecting here, and I am fully willing to accept that. But.

It just really bothers me to see a plot where Halsin, abused by Minthara, is being turned on for not being "nicer" to her, just because she has a convenient, "the devil made me do it" excuse.

My abusers had sob stories too. They weren't responsible for their actions because they were drunk and high! How could I not feel pity for them, didn't i know how much they were suffering? Why was I being so MEAN by being ANGRY at them? Wasn't I a better person than holding grudges? How could I be so cruel as to take delight when one of them ended up in jail for unrelated reasons? And don't I know better than to think that what they said and did while drunk/high was really them? And plus, I wasn't perfect myself, I made mistakes before, so that pretty much means I'm evil for not wanting to forgive them/be around them!

I see a lot of parallels to that here, which I'm sure are unintentional on the parts of those saying it. I'm sure in their eyes, it's just defending the character they love. And I don't blame them or hold that against them at all! I get it and I'm sure they feel just as strongly that Minthara should be saved at all costs.

But the parallels are there. To the way abuse victims are pressured into "forgiving" their abusers. As though they owe it to the abuser. By being abused, they have become indebted to their abuser, and that debt will only be repaid when they forgive. Notice that there is NO expectation of ANYTHING from the abuser. The idea that they should have to WORK for that grace is treated as repulsive. (Why is no one angry that Minthara didn't make her case better to Halsin? Didn't apologize? Didn't say "I'm glad your Grove wasn't slaughtered" or "I'm glad you survived" or literally anything to indicate she cared about Halsin's suffering?) The onus is solely on the abuse survivor to forgive, whether or not the abuser has actually changed at all- let alone whether they've tried to show the VICTIM they had. Already, there is an implicit suggestion that Halsin, as the victim of abuse, should have put up with it, and that he should just accept that Minthara, as his abuser, should get what she wants just by asking. And no one cares that Halsin is afraid for his life and the player's, independent of forgiveness... his feelings are secondary to his abuser's.

This discourse is already leaving a very, very bad taste in my mouth.

If one wants to criticize other aspects of the writing in that scene, I get it, and can appreciate many of the concerns that have been voiced (like whether it's actually in character- I think it is, but can understand disagreement- or etc). But this particular thing, the overarching theme of "Halsin should not object to sharing a living space with the person responsible for his torture, and that he won't is a black mark on his morality" is bothering me. I hope I haven't offended anyone here, but that is how it's already starting to feel.

#halsin #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #abuse tw

[whore-era]

clockwork

joel miller x fem!reader

smut, angst, slight fluff

summary: in which you open up about your trauma to joel. in turn, he shows you how much he cares for you, in more ways than one.

warnings: discussion of abandonment issues/trauma, minor discussion of familial death, mentions malnutrition/hypothermia, reader experiences a panic attack

contains smut: kissing, fingering

minors, those under 18, do not interact/read this fanfic. 18+ only.

(let me know if i miss any more necessary warnings ty baes)

a/n: hiii so this is my first time in a very long time writing fanfiction, especially smut! so im very open to constructive criticism and feedback :))) please let me know if u enjoy this and would like more from me!! also i got this idea from my boyfriend (bless his heart) so LOL the plot might be weird but anyways enjoy &lt;3

word count: 2,185

clockwork. it was like clockwork the way your body forced you awake every night.

every night, you woke up from your sleep and turned around to face joel. you placed your hand on his chest, on his heart, and counted his heartbeat for a full minute. after then, you would be reassured that he’s okay. he’s alive. he’s with you. 

of course, he’s never woken up when you did this. and you wanted to keep it that way. it would be embarrassing if he found out what you did, and it’d be too much to explain why you needed to do it in the first place. 

this routine began when you first landed in jackson. 

covered in thick grime and muck, you passed out on the soft snow in front of the town’s gates. maria told you that the guards thought you were one of the infected and almost took you down. she was the one who approached your unconscious body first.

your skin was pallor, and you were thin and weak. they didn’t even know if you’d make it through the night, as malnourishment and hypothermia had overtaken you severely. it took you almost three weeks to fully recover, well, in the physical sense. 

the horrors of what you experienced outside those gates stuck with you. you developed a fear of being alone. of course, being alone for almost a year would do that to someone. the uneasy silence, the feeling of nothingness, and the thought of being abandoned again is what distresses you.

pushing those fears to the side, you imagined they could be conquered if you just put yourself out there again. 

this was how you fell in love with the infamous joel miller.

known as jackson’s dedicated grump, you’ve always had an eye for the older, reserved miller brother. it wasn’t until he strolled into the town’s clinic with a scratched-up face and a bruised shoulder that you realized he was not as bad as everyone sought him out to be.

on a weekly basis, he came in with a gash or a mark that needed tending to, which always led to a small, conversation as you intently fixed him up. joel finally mustered up the courage to ask you on a proper date on one of those days, which led you right to this moment. 

staring at the clock. 

the red glow of the number ‘3:00’ luminesced against your face. uneasiness settled into your stomach. 

it was like your body could sense something was off. there wasn’t usually a silence, you could always hear the soft breaths of sleep coming from joel, even when you’re facing away from him. but there was nothing.

with apprehension, you turned over. to your terror, joel’s spot beside you was vacant. the outline of his figure dented into the soft mattress beneath you. 

the air sucked out of your lungs. “j-joel?”, you called out. nothing. “jo-joel? are you in there?”

your body acted before your mind did, and you got up. you walked over to the bathroom to check if he was in there. empty.

you struggled to breathe and your eyes shot around the room, frantically checking signs of his presence in the space around you. 

“joel!”, you cried out, “joel!”

was joel okay? where was he? did he leave? did he need you? what if he needed help?

you didn’t know when the room began spinning, or when your heart began to beat faster, all you cared about was knowing if joel was okay.

you needed to know.

tears flooded your eyes. you didn’t know if he was in danger, or if he needed your help, and you felt useless. 

“sorry, lovebug, tommy came knockin’ on the door to cancel tomorrow’s patrol-”, joel made eye contact, concern immediately veiling his face. “hey, baby, what’s wrong?” 

he rushed over to where you were standing, his hands cupping your cheeks and searching your face for any signs of injury. your glossy eyes looked up at him, and your hands went over to cup his neck, slowly trailing down to his chest. even beneath the soft fabric of his shirt, you could feel joel’s heart.

one, two, three, four, five, si-

“baby? what are you doin’?”

“i-i need to check,” your voice came out shaky, tears rolling down your cheeks, “i need to check i-if you’re o-okay, that you’re actually a-alive.”

joel’s eyes softened, and his arms wrapped around your frame. your face buried into him, ear against his chest, and you could hear it. his heart. beating rhythmically. beating for you.

and finally, that was when you felt the air enter back into your lungs. you let out a choked sob that you were holding in. the tears came flooding. the sounds of your cries muffled against his warm body and you held him tight, afraid that he would slip away from you. 

leading you both towards the edge of the bed, joel sat you both down and he held you into him tighter, gently rocking you back and forth as you cried.

joel had an idea that you were holding some things back from him. he knew that there were some wounds that had yet to heal. 

it was evident in the way you hesitated and held your tongue whenever the topic of your family came up or when people asked how you ended up all alone in the first place. joel could tell you saw some things out there, things that visited you in your nightmares. but he never wanted to pry, he knew eventually that you would open up to him, as he did when you asked about sarah. 

joel pulled away, looking down at your face, his thumb stroking your cheek. “i’m okay, darlin’,” he cooed, “i’m right here. always will be.”

you nodded, “i k-know, i just had to check.”

his eyes met yours, “is that why you been doin’ that thing every night?”

you closed your eyes in embarrassment. unbeknownst to you, joel had in fact been awake to know that you check his heartbeat every night. you wanted nothing more than to burrow into the earth’s darkness and never come out, but you know you had to eventually tell joel. you just didn’t think it’d be so soon. 

calm and relaxed, you nodded, “yes.”

“why, baby?” 

fiddling with your fingers and taking a deep breath, you looked up into his brown eyes. “because…i used to be scared of being alone. a year before i ended up here, in jackson, i was with my mom and my older sister.”

your voice began to shake and you felt your eyes brimming with tears. joel’s hands held onto yours as you spoke. “we ran away from the QZ in utah. it was a terrible place. so my mom took me and my sister and we left in the middle of the night. while we were camped out in the forest, they went to go hunting for food, and told me to wait,” you started crying again, “i waited for 8 days.”

joel’s heart sank. the realization hit him, you were alone for a year before showing up here. 

“i ended up trying to go back to the QZ in utah, but i saw them. they were both gone. i guess soldiers from the QZ were sent to find my mom. she was the only doctor there, and she was valuable. but instead they just..killed them,” you whispered the last part, closing your eyes, “my mom and my sister died so we could escape. so, i just continued on by myself until i ended up here.”

joel, heartbroken, took you in his arms once again, holding onto you tight. it made sense to him now. all the times he saw you, you were always with someone. you just needed to physically be present and with another person, to make you forget the horrors of what happened.

“i’m so sorry, angel,” joel spoke into your hair, giving your head a small kiss, “but you’ll never be alone again, not as long as you’re here with me.”

you pulled away and looked up at him, “joel,” you hesitated, “ever since i met you, my fear of being alone turned into fear of losing you.”

your confession made joel’s heart skip a beat. “i love you, joel.”

your lips gently made their way toward his and your arms encircled his neck. you both kiss each other with softness and sweetness until a whimper escapes the back of your throat, craving more. craving him. 

joel pulls away, afraid he might be going too fast with you especially after you just opened up about something so personal and traumatic, “maybe we can continue this tomorrow, sweetheart. should get some sleep.”

“i don’t want to sleep just yet,” your eyes searching his face, “i want to just..i want to feel you. i want to be with you. i want to be here with you.” 

you both look at each other for a second, before your lips crash into each others again. your tongue rubbed against his, gaining a deep moan from joel. his hands went to your hips, where he hoisted you up onto his lap and stood up, your legs wrapping around his waist. your lips made their way towards his neck, peppering soft kisses down his jawline and sucking softly above his collarbone. 

“let me make you feel good. i just want to feel you,” you kissed down his chest as your feet untangled from around his waist, your legs standing up. your hands went down to the waistband of his pajama pants and you went to kneel down before him, before he stopped you.

“no, darlin’. let me make you feel good,” joel pushed you against the bed, your back landing on the soft blankets, "tonight is gonna be about you."

he laid next to you, his lips meeting yours with one hand going over the curves of your body. his hand hovered over your breast, his fingers rubbing and pinching at your nipple. you whimpered against his lips, wetness pooling in your panties.

“god, you’re ’s gorgeous,” he whispered against your lips. his hands trailed down to the edge of your panties. you bucked your hips up, your body needing release. “please, joel.” you begged, spreading your legs apart. 

“please, what?” 

“please touch me.”

“touch you where?” 

“please, touch my pussy.”

“atta girl.” joel’s hands went inside your panties, his fingers rubbing at the entrance of your slit, soaking them up. “look at you. soaking wet, all for me.” you nodded, “all for you.”

joel’s fingers spread your pussy, and he used one to rub on your clit, eliciting a soft moan from you. he smirked, and rubbed your soaking clit in soft circles, the slick sound of the wetness echoing throughout the room. 

he added a second finger, building the pressure on your pussy. “let me hear you, sweet girl,” he cooed as his fingers did figure 8’s against your clit. a moan escaped your lips as your eyes closed and your head fell back in pleasure. 

“that’s my sweet girl.”

joel added a third finger, massaging your sopping, wet pussy. “yes, joel, god yes.”

his fingers went down to your entrance, your juices leaking out from you. joel inserted two fingers, gently pumping them in and out of you. they were sliding in and out so easily, lubricated with your sweet, sweet wetness. 

“fuck, baby, you feel so good,” joel murmured, curling his fingers inside of you. oh god, you could pass out any second. you felt lightheaded, drowning in immense pleasure. 

as joel’s thick fingers were sliding in and out of your pussy, the pad of his thumb began slow and soft circles against your swollen clit. you felt the orgasm begin to build in your stomach. 

“oh my god, joel, i’m gonna-“ his pace began to go a little faster, “yes, baby, stay like that.” you breathed out.

“go ‘head, sweet girl,” joel whispered softly, “cum for me.” your pussy tightened around his fingers, and a wave of ecstasy washed over you as your juices poured over his hand.

joel’s hand came up to his mouth and he sucked his fingers clean, making your face heat up. he quickly got up and told you to stay put, and he left and came back with a towel, cleaning you up.

getting into bed, joel put the duvet over both of your bodies. you laid down on his chest, with him wrapping his arm around you and his hand stroking your hair. 

“angel?”

“hm?”, you hummed, looking up at him. his eyes were already on you with a look of adoration. 

“i love you, more than you know,” joel whispered, “and you’ll never lose me, as long as you’ll have me.” 

and with that, he kissed you on top of your head and laid his head back, closing his eyes to fall back into slumber. 

you, in turn, closed your eyes to sleep. finally feeling at peace and confidence, knowing that you’ll always have joel miller with you, at your side. 

#joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller angst #joel miller tlou #joel tlou #tlou

[caffeinewitchcraft]

An Exercise in Mary Sue

(story under the cut)

This week’s short story is more of an exercise. I’ve seen a lot of discussion lately about “cringe-y” YA as more and more authors self-publish or get popular via social media.

When I was a teenager and just started writing, one of my biggest fears was creating a Mary Sue. Mary Sues were very Bad and could get you bulled online. They were too powerful, too beautiful, too not-like-other-girls. People would look down on writers who incorporated these elements into the MC and tell them to stop writing entirely.

Now, in my late 20s, I’ve been thinking about that time in my life more and more. Writing was my hobby, sure, but reading was my escape. And, as a teen, I wanted to escape. I wanted to read about characters who were all-powerful, who were confident, who were loved and respected. I wasn’t getting that fulfillment in my daily life, but I was getting that from books.

So why, when I loved reading them so much, was I so afraid of writing Mary Sues?

I don’t think there’s anything wrong in wanting to read or wanting to write an over-powered character. But I’ve come to the realization that it’s HOW you do it that matters. The biggest legitimate criticism against these types of characters is that they’re not believable. How does a teenager defeat a Dark Lord with fifty years of experience? Why does the orphan know how to wield a lightsaber better than those who’ve trained with it for a lifetime? Why is the prophesied hero wittier than the Generals who’ve been planning this battle all along?

“Mary Sue” stories are always missing an explanation. They “tell” rather than “show.” That style of writing never allows a reader to fully engage and forces them to remain in a critical position. There’s no information for the reader to work with! That’s a really frustrating experience and, as a connoisseur of the Mary Sue, it’s one I know well.

I rebel against the idea of “cringe” in writing. So this week I wrote the opening to a YA book with aaaall the hallmarks of a Mary Sue.

Our main character (Junipera, of course) is the most powerful vampire in her Family despite being one of the youngest. She has long silver hair and black eyes that turn red when she’s angry. She is gorgeous and seemingly all-knowing. She’s contemptuous of those around her and effortlessly outwits them no matter the situation. She is Edgy and Arrogant and everything I have tried not to write for most of my life.

BUT I sort of love how she turned out?

As I’ve worked on pulling together two books to release over the next few weeks, this has been extremely soothing for me. I’ve managed to keep finding the joy in writing because of this exercise and I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.

Or, at the very least, I hope that those of you who may be skeptical are given a different angle to think about Mary Sues and their place in literature.

Thanks for reading!

She should have at least changed clothes before falling on top of the covers last night.

Junipera pinches the bridge of her nose without getting up. Her black button-down shirt sticks unpleasantly to her side and the scent of iron fills the air. She doesn’t need to move her legs to know that her jeans are similarly soaked alongside her black, leather boots. She’d been so tired last night that getting into bed with blood-stained clothing had seemed a good compromise to falling asleep in the shower.

Of course, she didn’t know she’d be having a visitor this morning. Or, rather, another one.

The knock comes right on time. Firm and loud in the quiet of the early morning. Junipera’s lip curls. Impetuous. If she was in her territory, no one would dare knock like that on her bedroom door after a late night. They wouldn’t dare to knock at all.

But she isn’t in her territory, is she?

“Come in.”

The door – pale pine with brass hinges, ornate as all things are here – glides open. The woman who slips into her room, softly closing the door behind her, is as familiar a face as any in this place. The “assistant” the Raven Family assigned to her when she first arrived is very good at looking harmless. Her wide, clear eyes are soft as they take in the dishevelment of Junipera’s room. If she has an opinion on the bloody footprints leading from the shattered window to the bed, she doesn’t show it. As an assassin, Madison is probably used to blood.

She should look surprised at least. Junipera sits up, wincing as her long, silver hair sticks to the pillow. A shower would have at least saved her hair from the matts of dried blood in it. If she liked Madison better, she’d tell her that before one of the Ravens noticed that she wasn’t very good at keeping her cover.

“Ma’am,” Madison says. Her voice is neutral and calm, but her lips are thin as she looks over Junipera’s boots. “You aren’t to go out.”

Ten years ago, Junipera would have laughed out loud at that. Hell, in her territory she might have at least smiled. But Junipera has been playing this game a lot longer than Madison knows.

Junipera hunches in on herself. Her vampiric complexion won’t let her blush, but she ducks her head against Madison’s gaze and averts her eyes. “I was hungry.”

“That’s what the servants are for,” Madison says. A note of disapproval rings in the words. Madison is getting comfortable. “They would have brought you something if you called for them.”

“I rang,” Junipera says. She eyes the bell on her nightstand and makes sure to rub at her fingers where Madison can see. While the Ravens are blessed with immunity to silver, Junipera is not. The silver bell is a taunt, though she doesn’t know from who. The Lord and Lady of the Family? The inner court? The servants? “I rang as long as I could, but nobody came.”

Junipera peeks out from behind her curtain of silver hair. Is that a smirk tucked into the corner of Madison’s mouth?  What a fool.

“You’re expected at breakfast,” Madison says. She walks over the broken glass to the window and snaps the curtains closed. While the Ravens are able to walk during the day, full sunlight hurts them. Junipera is the one with immunity to that. Madison spins on her heel. “You’ve made quite the mess, ma’am. The servants will have a hard time replacing the window before evening.”

Does Madison expect an apology? Junipera feels her black eyes flare red and keeps her head ducked to hide them from Madison. She breathes in deeply through her nose. “…I didn’t mean to break the window.”

She did mean to throw her would-be killer through it last night. It breaking was unexpected. Her Family always kept bulletproof glass in the main residence. Maybe the Raven Family didn’t have the coffers to do the same?

“They will manage it,” Madison says. There’s a twist of satisfaction in her aura. Did she hear an apology from Juniper where none existed? “Raven Manor has grown accustomed to vampires with very fine control. It will do them good to be reminded of what lay beyond our borders.”

Fine control. Junipera has to admit that the elders of the Raven Family have it. Even she has a hard time sensing them in the manor, gathering in the depths to conspire against her Family. She says, “Oh…I see.”

“Breakfast is in one hour,” Madison says. She crunches over the broken glass to loom at the side of Junipera’s bed.  Too close for an assistant. “You can’t go looking like that.”

Ah. Now Madison isn’t doing too good of a job of hiding her disdain. It seeps into her aura like swamp water. Why do I have to take care of this spoiled brat? Uncouth. Dirty. Not suited for the Raven Family.

Even Junipera has her limits.

She lifts her head to look up at Madison, tilting her chin just so. Her hair slides like silk over her shoulders and drapes along the curve of her hip. The rest is an instinct. Press her shoulders back, lift her chest, blink her long lashes just a few too many times, eyes wide and dark. She doesn’t dare let her aura touch Madison’s, not when she’s doing her best to appear harmless, but the effect is enough judging by the way Madison’s breath hitches. “Looking like what?” Junipera asks.

“J-just get dressed,” Madison says. She pats at her black bun as if checking for fly aways. She takes great interest in the Raven Family portraits on the wall. “Bathe. Be presentable.”

“In that order?” Junipera bites her lower lip as if in genuine confusion. “C-can I bathe first?”

“Obviously,” Madison snaps. She stumbles back when Junipera swings her legs over the edge of the bed, but then firms her stance. “One hour, ma’am.”

“That’s pretty fast,” Junipera says. Her fingers tangle in the bedsheets on either side of her and she presses her lower lip out in a pout. “Maybe if I had help in the bath…”

Madison pretends not to hear her. “I must go now, ma’am. Don’t hesitate to ring the bell if you need assistance.”

“But the silver hurts—”

Madison flees.

Junipera crosses her legs and leans her chin on one hand as she considers the door Madison just slammed. She accepted this mission from her Family out of boredom. It was different than being deployed to battle or sent to recover this or that ancient relic from ruins. The political espionage involved in this one had intrigued her. She’d gone into this with high hopes. She’d never seen the inner workings of a Family as well-established as the Ravens. She thought she might learn something from the vampires who were so famous for their speed, their wit, their bloodthirst.

Junipera didn’t expect to be bored here too.

She sighs, rubbing a hand over her hair as she stands. Too late to regret now. Until she finds the information her Family sent her for, she’s stuck here.

She goes to shower without ringing the bell. Truthfully, the pain of the silver doesn’t bother her that much. She could ring it, but why bother with something so futile? None of the Raven’s servants will answer her summons. They treat foreign ambassadors badly for a Family known for their politics.

If she has her way, they’ll learn to regret that.

-----------------------

Seriously had so much fun writing this and even more fun re-reading this exercise. The inner child in me already wants the next chapter.

Thank you for letting me post something a little off-beat today!

Patreon(X)

Next week’s story is already posted! Berthe the Green Witch (3rd person)

Summary: Traditional witches and green witches don't always see eye to eye. With a life on the line, Berthe is very persuasive.

 Thanks for reading!

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