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#i've been wanting to write this one FOREVER
jewelleria · 1 day
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I don’t usually talk about politics on here, if ever. But it’s been almost six months since the conflict in the Middle East flared up again. Here are some of my thoughts.
I say ‘flared up’ because this has happened before and it’ll happen again. Because, even though what's currently going on is absolutely unprecedented, those of us who live in this part of the world are used to it. Let that sink in: we are used to this. And we shouldn’t have to be. 
But I use that term for another reason: I don't want to accidentally call it the wrong thing lest I come under fire for being a genocidal maniac or a terrorist or a propaganda machine, etc., etc.—so let’s just call it ‘the war’ or ‘the conflict.’ Because that’s what it is. Doesn’t matter which side you’re on, who you love, or who you hate. 
This post will, in all likelihood, sit in my drafts forever. If it does get posted, it certainly won’t be on my main, because I'm scared of being harassed (spoiler: she posted it on her main). I hate admitting that, but honestly? I’m fucking terrified. 
I also feel like in order for anything I say on here (i.e. the hellscape of the internet) to be taken seriously, I have to somehow prove that a) I’m “educated” enough to talk about the conflict, and b) that my opinion lines up with what has been deemed the correct one. So, tedious and unnecessary though it is, I will tell you about my experience, because I have a feeling most of the people reading this post are not as close to what’s happening as I am.
How do I explain where I live without actually explaining where I live? How do I say “I live in the Red Zone of international conflicts” without saying what I actually think? How do I convey the fear that grips me when I try to decide between saying I live in Palestine and saying I live in Israel? I don't really know. But I do know that names are important. I also know that, due to the various clickbaity monikers ascribed to the conflict, it would probably just be easier to point to a map. 
I haven't always lived in the Middle East. I've lived in various places in America, set up camp in London for a while, and had a brief stint in Helsinki. But in short, I now live somewhere inside the crudely-drawn purple circle. 
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If you know anything about these borders you probably blanched a bit in sympathy, or maybe condolence. But in truth, it’s a shockingly normal existence. I don't feel like I've lived through the shifting of international relations or a war or anything. I just kind of feel like I did when COVID hit, that dull sameness as I wondered if this would be the only world-altering event to shape my life, or if there would be more. 
I've been told that, in order for my brain to process all the horrific details of the past six months, there needs to be some element of cognitive dissonance—that falling into a sort of dissociative mindset is the only way to not go insane under the weight of it all. I think in some ways that’s true. I have been terrifyingly close to bus stop shootings when my commute wasn’t over; I have felt my apartment building shake with the reverberations of a missile strike; I have spent hours in underground shelters waiting for air raid sirens to stop. 
But. I have also gone grocery shopping, and skipped class, and stayed up too late watching TV, and fed the cats on the street corner, and cried over a boy, and got myself AirPods just because, and taken out the trash, and done laundry on a delicate cycle, and bought overpriced lattes one too many days a week. I look at pretty things and take out my phone because I think that life is too short not to freeze the small moments. 
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So I'd say, all things considered, I live an incredibly privileged life, one filled with sunsets and over sweetened knafeh and every different color of sand. One that allows me to throw myself into a fandom-induced hyperfixation as I sit on the couch and crack open my laptop to write the next chapter of the fic I'm working on. 
But there are bits of not-normalness that wheedle their way through the cracks. I pretend these moments are avoidable, even if they’re not. 
They look like this: reading the news and seeing another idiotic, careless choice on Netanyahu’s part and groaning into my morning coffee. Watching Palestinian and Jewish children’s needless suffering posted on Instagram reels and feeling helpless. Opening my Tumblr DMs to find a message telling me to exterminate myself for reblogging a post that only seems like it’s about the war if you squint and tilt your head sideways. 
These moments look like all the tiny ways I am reminded that I'm living in a post-October seventh world, where hearing a car backfiring makes me jump out of my skin and the sound of a suitcase on pavement makes me look up at the sky and search for the war planes. They look like the heavy grief that is, and also isn’t, mine. 
Here's the thing, though. I know you’re wondering when the ball will drop and my true opinion will be revealed. I know you’re waiting for me to reveal what demographic I'm a part of so that you, dear reader, can neatly slap a label on my head and sort me into some oversimplified category that lets you continue to think you understand this war. 
No one wants to sit and ruminate on the difficult questions, the ones that make you wonder if maybe you’ve been tinkered with by the propaganda machine, if you might need to go back on what you’ve said or change your mind. We all strive for our perception of complicated issues to be a comfortable one.
But I know that no matter what I do, there will always be assumptions. So, while I shudder to reveal this information online, I think that maybe my most significant contribution to this meta-discussion spanning every facet of the internet is this: 
I am a Jew. 
Or, alternatively, I am: Jewish, יהודית, يَهُودِيٌّ, etc. Point is, I come from Jews. And, like any given person, I am a product of generation after generation of love. 
I'm not going to take time to explain my heritage to you, or to prove that before all the expulsions and pogroms, there was an origin point. If you don’t believe that, perhaps it’s less of a factual problem and more of an ‘I don’t give weight to the beliefs of indigenous people’ problem. But, in case you want to spend time uselessly refuting this tiny point in a larger argument, you can inspect the photos below (it’s just a small chunk of my DNA test results). Alternatively, you can remember that interrogating someone in an attempt to make their indigeneity match your criteria is generally not seen as good manners. 
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Now, let’s go back to when I mentioned the hateful message I received in my Tumblr DMs. I think it was like two or three weeks ago. I had recently gained a new follower whose blog’s primary focus was the fandom I contribute to, so I followed them back. I saw in my notes that they were going through my posts and liking them—as one does when gaining a new mutual. Yippee! 
Then they sent me this: 
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I tried to explain that hate speech is not a way to go about participating in political discourse, but the person had already blocked me immediately after sending that message. Then, assured by the fact that I surely would never see them complaining about me on their blog (because, as I said, they blocked me), they posted a shouting rant accusing me of sympathizing with colonizing settlers and declaring me a “racist Zionist fuck.”
Where they drew these conclusions after reading a (reblogged) post about antisemitism…. I'm not actually sure. But I greatly sympathize with them and hope that they weren’t too personally offended by my desire to not die. 
For a while I contemplated this experience in my righteous anger, and tried to figure out a way to message this person. I wanted to explain that a) seeing a post about being Jewish and choosing to harass the creator about Israel is literally the definition of antisemitism and b) that sending a hateful DM and refusing to be held accountable is just childish and immature. But I gave up soon after—because, honestly, I knew it wasn’t worth my effort or energy. And I knew that I wouldn't be able to change their mind. 
But I still remember staring at that rather unfortunate meme, accompanied by an all-caps message demanding for me to Free Palestine, and thinking: the post didn’t even have any buzzwords. I remember the swoop of dread and guilt and fear. I remember wondering why this kind of antisemitism felt worse, in that moment, than the kind that leaves bodies in its wake. 
I remember thinking, I’m so fucking tired. 
And before you tell me that this conflict isn’t about religion—let me ask you some questions. Why is it that Israel is even called Israel?(Here’s why.) Why do Jews even want it? (Here’s why.) But also, if you actually read the charters of Islamist terrorist organizations like ISIS, Hamas, and Hezbollah (among others), they equate Israel with the Jewish people, and they use the two terms interchangeably. So of course this conflict is religious. It’s never been anything but that.
But I do wonder, when faced with those who deny this fact: how do I prove, through an endless slew of what-about-isms and victim blaming, that I too am hurting? How do I show that empathy is dialectical, that I can care deeply for Palestinians and Gazans while also grieving my own people? 
There's this thing that humans do, when we’re frustrated about politics and need to howl our opinions about it into the void until we feel better. We find like-minded souls, usually our friends and neighbors, and hem and haw about the state of the world to each other until we’ve gone around in a satisfactory amount of circles. But these conversations never truly accomplish anything. They’re just a substitute, a stand-in catharsis, for what we really wish we could do: find someone who embodies the spirit of every Jew-hating internet troll, every ignorant justifier of terrorism, and scream ourselves hoarse at them until we change their mind.
But, of course, minds cannot be changed when they are determined to live in a state of irrational dislike. In Judaism, this way of thinking has a name: שנאת חינם (sinat hinam), or baseless hatred. It's a parasite with no definite cure, and it makes people bend over backwards to justify things like the massacre on October seventh, simply because the blame always needs to be placed on the Jews. 
So when a Jew is faced with this unsolvable problem, there is only one response to be had, only one feeling to be felt: anger. And we are angry. Carrying around rage with nowhere to put it is exhausting. It's like a weight at the base of our neck that pushes down on our spine, bending it until we will inevitably snap under the pressure. 
I wish I could explain to someone who needs to hear it that terrorism against Israelis happens every single day here, and that we are never more than one degree of separation away from the brutal slaughter of a friend, lover, parent, sibling. I wish it would be enough to say that the majority of Israelis (which includes Arab-Israeli citizens who have the exact same rights as Jewish-Israelis) wish for peace every day without ever having seen what it looks like. 
I wish I could show the world that Israel was founded as a socialist state, that it was built on communal values and born from a cluster of kibbutzim (small farming communities based on collective responsibility), and that what it is now isn’t what its people stand for. 
I wish the world could open their eyes to what we Israelis have seen since the beginning: that Hamas is the enemy, Hamas is the one starving Palestinians and denying them aid, Hamas is the one who keeps rejecting ceasefire terms and denying their citizens basic human rights. Hamas is the governing body of Gaza, not Israel. Hamas is responsible for the wellbeing of the Palestinian people. And Hamas are the ones who are more determined to murder Jews—over and over and over again, in the most animalistic ways possible—than to look inwards and see the suffering they’ve inflicted on their own people. I wish it was easier to see that.
But the wishing, the asking how can people be so blind, is never enough. I can never just say, I promise I don't want war. 
When I bear witness to this baseless hatred, I think of the victims of October seventh. I think of the women and girls who were raped and then murdered, unable to tell their stories. I think of the hostages, trapped underneath Gaza in dark tunnels, wondering if anyone will come for them. I think of Ori Ansbacher, of Ezra Schwartz, of Eyal, Gilad, and Naftali, of Lucy, Rina, and Maia Dee, of the Paley boys, of Ari Fuld and of Nachshon Wachsman. I think of all the innocent blood spilled because of terror-fueled hatred and the virus of antisemitism. I think of all the thousands of people who were brutally murdered in Israel, Jews and Muslims and Christians and humans, who will never see peace.
My ties to this land are knotted a thousand times over. Even when I leave, a part of me is left behind, waiting for me to claim it when I return. But when I see the grit it takes to live through this pain, when I see the suffering that paints the world the color of blood, I look to the heavens and I wonder why. 
I ask God: is it worth all this? He doesn't answer. He hasn’t answered since the sun set on the Book of Esther. So I am the one, in the end, to answer my own question. I say, it has to be. 
source reading
The Whispered in Gaza Project by The Center for Peace Communications
Why Jews Cannot Stop Shaking Right Now by Dara Horn
Hamas Kidnapped My Father for Refusing to Be Their Puppet by Ala Mohammed Mushtaha
I Hope Someone Somewhere Is Being Kind to My Boy by Rachel Goldberg
The Struggle for Black Freedom Has Nothing to Do with Israel by Coleman Hughes
Israel Can Defend Itself and Uphold Its Values by The New York Times Editorial Board
There Is a Jewish Hope for Palestinian Liberation. It Must Survive by Peter Beinart
The Long Wait of the Hostages’ Families by Ruth Margalit
“By Any Means Necessary”: Hamas, Iran, and the Left by Armin Navabi
When People Tell You Who They Are, Believe Them by Bari Weiss
Hunger in Gaza: Blame Hamas, Not Israel by Yvette Miller
Benjamin Netanyahu Is Israel’s Worst Prime Minister Ever by Anshel Pfeffer
What Palestinians Really Think of Hamas by Amaney A. Jamal and Michael Robbins
The Decolonization Narrative Is Dangerous and False by Simon Sebag Montefiore
Understanding Hamas’s Genocidal Ideology by Bruce Hoffman
The Wisdom of Hamas by Matti Friedman
How the UN Discriminates Against Israel by Dina Rovner
This Muslim Israeli Woman Is the Future of the Middle East by The Free Press
Why Are Feminists Silent on Rape and Murder? by Bari Weiss
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ellilyre · 10 hours
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I finished ToA not long ago and I wanted to write down some thoughts/scenes that stick with me
(in chronological (ish) order, watch out for spoilers)
Theres an italian girl at camp ! It means Nico gets to practice and speak italian ! (which probably haven't happened in about 70 years)
Will introducing Nico as "my boyfriend". I already knew they would be canon, but reading that line felt weird /pos
Apollo sees Solangelo and think of himself and Hyacinth
That night when Kayla and Austin disappeared and Apollo left to look for them, it probably was the first night Will ever spent alone in his cabin
Apollo's insane body dysmorphia. He's a god, he can always take the physical form he is the most comfortable and confident in... Until now. He is stuck in a body that isn't his, he feels ashamed, when he sees certain traits in others he find them charming or pretty, but when it's on him then it's disgusting. He complain that everything is this body's fault (ex. he wouldn't have been touched by the Eurynomos if it wasn't for his chub.)(I could go on for hours)
Lityerses ! I love that guy. Idk why i love him that much. He is my best guy.
Apollo's reaction to Commodus' name. His flashback of him. So painful he was physically sick.
Apollo talking Helios out of killing them, because he just want to be free, not to hurt them.
APOLLO ATTEMPT TO KHS TO STOP THEM ?? IM A SUCKER FOR SOME GOOD PAINFUL SELF SACRIFICE.
Jason. I'm not talking about Jason. I can't speak about Jason.
Frank and Apollo ! They are so fond of each other !!!
Apollo heard all of Frank's prayers when he was unclaimed and wished he could've adopted him.
And Frank respecting Apollo as a god although he is *vaguely gesture at Apollo/Lester*
Reyna saying aloud that she doesn't want nor needs romance. It's so rare to see aromantic representation and Rick did it so well.
Literally Apollo singing his way out of situations.
FRANK'S SELF SACRIFICE!!! (He already had one of my favorite character development before that)
APOLLO KILLING COMMODUS ??? why do never talk about that it's one of the best deaths I've ever seen that was BADASS AND FULL OF EMOTIONS.
Apollo slowly dying out of poison and the Dodona Arrow doing everything it can to keep him conscious.
I hope Dakota didn't get killed off just to give Lavinia the role of Centurion. I love my boy Dakota, and his death felt kind of meaningless, except for her rank up :/ also i feel like it doesn't suit Lavinia. Some ppl are strong and good and trustable but just not made to order others. (ill prop make a full post about that)
Dionysos confirmed to be an annoying little brother!
Nico. How does Rick manage to always give him more issues. Leave the kid alone.
When Will glows, Apollo is genuinely impressed and tells him how proud he is.
Nico destroying Nero's door with his giant zombie bull. That was cool.
When Apollo gets stabbed in Nero's tower and think it's the end, he prays "Zeus, Artemis, Leto, anyone"
And in general the few parts he talks about Leto, he's such a momma's boy and I love it.
When Apollo left for Delphi... I was fully expecting Meg to go with him. I was so worried that he went alone while already feeling that weakened from the previous events.
DODONA ARROW. FOREVER IN MY HEART.
Artemis is here when Apollo wakes up. She's by his side, she's the first person to tell him he succeeded, she hold him while he sobs...
The first thing he does is to greet his horses :) and then to see his friends.
When he gets back to the Dodona bush ! To tell them all how brave and heroic the Arrow have been !
I could spend hours talking about the character developments of Apollo, Meg and the Dodona Arrow (i love the arrow so much you have no idea) but its for another day
There's many things I didn't talk about, but the post is already long enough. I love those 5 books, and Apollo is an amazing narrator.
I love the Arrow of Dodona with all my heart.
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obsessedwithitall · 4 hours
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It's Embarrassing (Eddie Munson x reader)
I woke up this morning with this in my head and have been trying to write it all day. Also, I don't like smoking, I'm just going through a phase. Can you tell I've never smoked? I am the squarest.
Everyone is in their 20s, Eddie and reader have been in a secret relationshipish for a few months. Angst.
There is a part 2 I think. I just need to get the ending right. Feedback is welcome xx
***
You pulled your t-shirt over your naked body before you took the cigarette from Eddie, put it to your mouth and immediately started choking on the smoke.
He looked at you with concern. “You ok?”
“Yeah,” you coughed, “super.”
“You have smoked before right?”
“Yeah.” You waited a second before shaking your head no. He gestured for you to give it to him and he took a long drag, not choking like you did.
“What?”
“That was hot.” You buried your face in his neck and he began to laugh. You in nothing but your t-shirt, Eddie in nothing but his boxers, yes, you could get used to this.
***
That morning was rushed as you and Eddie got up awfully late and then you had to go home for your uniform. The door to family video was already open when you got there, living your car quickly and riding into the store.
“I'm sorry.”
“Don't worry, I did the morning rush.” You rolled your eyes at Robin. There never was any morning rush.
***
The phone began to ring.
“Family video, how can I help you?”
“I can think of a few ways.”
A very recognisable voice came through the phone and made you drop your customer service demeanour. “Stop.”
“I can't help it. I missed you.”
“Its been like an hour.” You checked around for what Robin had gone but couldn’t find her so assumed she must have gone into the back.
“I'd say nearly 2.”
“An hour and 10 minutes is not nearly 2 hours.”
Eddie replied quieter than before. “2 whole hours I've been thinking about those cute little panties you left on my floor.” You blushed.
“I'm at work, you can't say that.”
“No one can hear though.”
“You should be at work.”
“I am.”
“Are you calling off the garage phone? Eddie, anyone could hear.” You tried to sound annoyed but somehow you weren't as mad as you wanted to be.
“No they won't. Its only me in now, everyone else had having an early lunch.” That relaxed you a little. “Anyway, you coming over again tonight?”
Your faced twisted a little, unsure if you should. “I don't know, I've gotta do laundry and I should probably clean my apartment.”
“I could always come help?”
“I don't know how helpful you’d be.”
“I could always help you with some of your clothes...”
The thought made you scrunch your face and attempt to hide a huge grin.
“Clean or dirt-”
Robin started her way back through the store to you, so you quickly cut him off.
“Thank you calling madam. Goodbye.” Your voice quick and very dry, you slammed the phone down on the receiver quickly.
“What was that about?”
Hiding your blushed face by looking down you picked up a pile of videos and took them to the back of the store. “Erm... they were asking about Betamax.”
***
It had been a slow day. So slow that it seemed to go on forever. The sun had finally started setting when Eddie and Steve meandered into the store. Neither you nor Robin, who was sat on top of the front counter, greeted them when they came in, to busy staring into space and sucking on lollipops to notice them.
“What is that?”
Robin pushed the round top of her lollipop into your neck, just below your shirt collar.
“Robin, that's gross.” Your neck felt sticky now.
“That is gross. Who did that to you?” her faced pulled into a huge grin.
“Stop.” You pulled your collar down a bit and looked at your reflection in the tall windows. For fuck sake. You’d checked for marks this morning, clearly not well enough.
“Who was it? Did you stop over, oh is that why you were late this morning?”
“I wasn’t late.”
“Tell me.”
“No.”
“How did I not notice that sooner? Who was it?”
“Its noone.”
“Is it because those bozos are here?”
She eluded to Eddie and Steve hanging around the back of the store.
“No, its-“
Robin yelled across the room, “Munson, Harrington, get out.”
“Why?”
“She won't tell me who’s been attacking her neck because you two won't leave.”
If the ground would swallow you up now that would be wonderful. You could feel your face flushing bright red, and now not only Robin but Steve and Eddie were all staring at the purple stain on your neck. Steve with curiosity, Robin with disgust and Eddie with sick pride.
“I'm not going anywhere. I want to know who our dear friend has been slutty with.” Eddie sang. Why was he doing this to you?
“I'm not being slutty with anybody.”
“Who was it?” Robin asked again.
Then Eddie started with the rapid fired accusations.
“Was it Jason?”
“Ew.”
“Paul?”
“No.”
“Craig?”
“No.”
“Harrington?” Steve looked very confused and shook his head.
“Eddie-“
“Michael?”
“Stop it.”
You’d had enough. Storming away from the front counter you left your 3 friends behind and made a beeline for the employee bathroom, tears threatening to burst from your eyes. Robin pushed herself away from the counter to follow you but Eddie stopped her.
“I went too far. I’ll go.”
The bathroom stall door shook as someone knocked on the wood.
“Go away, Robin.”
“Not Robin.”
You opened the door and Eddie was stood far too close, blocking your exit. Pushing him out of the way you threw your hands against the sink to hold yourself up and stared into the mirror.
“I'm sorry, I went to far.”
“You think.”
“Why don't you tell them?”
“I can’t. I have a reputation to uphold.”
“A reputation?”
“And this,” The bruise on your neck seemed to grow under your gaze. Everyone would know. What would your parents say? What would everyone say? Even if you covered it with makeup, Robin and Steve knew so all your friends sound know soon. You snapped. “This is embarrassing, Eddie.”
All you heard was the bang of the bathroom door as Eddie stormed out, not saying a word.
***
You knew your car was going to be much warmer than any welcome you got from Eddie but you hadn’t seen him in a week, so you needed to talk to him.
Wayne answered the door and your heart sank.
“Hey, sweetheart. He’s not here.”
“Oh, ok. Thank you. When he comes back, can you... ask him to call me? He’s got my number and everything so...”
You stepped back on the porch slightly, before thinking again.
“And if he’s needs to um, I know your line isn’t always good, so if he's got to use the phone down the street, can you give him these?”
You placed at least 2 dollars worth of quarters in Wayne’s hand and smiled a tight-lipped sad smile at him. He nodded and showed you the same.
Wayne watched you get into your cart and drive off before he shut the door. Eddie stood in the kitchen pulling at his lip.
“You going to call her or what?”
***
Any feedback is welcome and encouraged. Thank you so much for reading 💜💜💜
[I only watched the first 7 episodes of season one of Stranger Things so I'm sorry if it feels wrong. I will not be watching anymore]
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emmettworld · 2 days
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Okay I promise this is genuine and I don't want to send hate, and if you don't believe it, fair...but why post the works involving minors and nsfw (yes that includes the incest) ? I do believe that you can write whatever you want, and I don't think you're some boggeyman that get his kick of writing about abused kids or whatever bullshit. But there's a difference between writing it and publishing it, and while I think it's unfair your blog was straight up deleted and not flagged, I can also understand why Tumblr did it : I read the ToS, and I don't think they're just for real minors (but it's my personnal interpretation). This type of work (text, art, etc) can be shared with a group of friends or a group of people who're all used to this kind of content, and maybe it would prevent the risk of people stumbling unto texts involving Logan and David for example (happened to me once, oof) and more importantly, Tumblr throwing a fit? You're an amazing artist and while I haven't kept up with your content for a while (I unfollowed when you started posting about incest and non-con against minors sorry, it's a topic I really don't like), I don't want you to keep on being flagged and banned forever.
the simplest answer i have is because it's part of who i am as a creator, and sharing those parts has not just been extremely liberating and cathartic for me, but for others too.
that's one of the most important things to me. it would be different if all i got was hate and not a shred of support or positivity -- if nobody told me that they liked it, that it helped them be more comfortable with themselves and their own work, then i don't know if i would. it's hard to say whether i would just get bogged down by hate and give it up or if it would keep going regardless.
but aside from that, it's the principle. it's the fact that i, as well as similar creators, am not forcing anyone to see this content. i am not posting things uncensored for anyone to stumble upon. i always use very specific warnings, read mores, and links. not once would you encounter a post of mine like that and see anything explicit unless you chose to view it.
and that's the principle i'm fighting for: choice.
this website used to be place where you could pretty much post anything, way before the Naughty Ban, because we understood it was all about personal choice. about curating your own content, blocking tags and blogs you didn't want to see, unfollowing if you had to (which you have EVERY right to do, and don't need to apologize for!). most of us followed online etiquette and those who didn't, again, you can just choose to unfollow or block. not report them just for posting shit you don't like.
the TOS explicitly states real minors. if they wanted to include fictional, they should have stated that. if they wanted to include fictional, they should not only reference the actual crime, but the thought crime of creating things that don't adhere to morals in reality.
personally, i think it's one or two people throwing a fit, but that's just me. i think my content, which is not even posted directly to this site and is by no means being shoved in anyone's face, is the least of this site's problems or concerns.
but anyways, that's why i'm ready to die on this hill. because i've met so many wonderful people from being open about what i post, no matter how disturbing it may be, and because we should all be able to post freely as creators if we're not directly showing anything explicit that could violate TOS.
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alixezae · 1 day
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T'ILL MORNING
Simon riley x FEM!reader | fluff, smut | 321? Words |
Warnings: smut, fluff, p in v
A/N: also sorry for deleting my writings all of my writings were so unorganized at all
16+ underage dni
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The morning sunlight streamed in through the curtains, painting the room in a warm, golden glow. Y/N lay in bed, her body still tingling from the night's activities. She could feel the weight of Simon pressed against her back, his strong arms wrapped tightly around her, their entwined limbs tangled in the sheets. For a moment, she relished in the comfort of his embrace, the heat of his skin against hers, before a delicious memory flooded her senses.
The previous night, they had been unable to sleep, their bodies aching with desire. Simon had slowly stripped her naked, his hands trailing over her skin with a possessive tenderness. He had entered her with one forceful thrust, filling her completely, and from that moment on, it seemed like they couldn't get close enough. His thrusts were rough and demanding, each one making her moan and squirt with uninhibited pleasure. It had been the most intense and unforgettable experience of her life.
Now, as she lay in bed, savoring the warmth of Simon's body and the lingering afterglow of their passion, she couldn't help but wonder how they had gone so long without exploring this side of their relationship. It was as if they had both been waiting for this moment, for the chance to finally give in to the desire that had been simmering beneath the surface for so long. She knew that from now on, their connection would be irrevocably changed, forever marked by the memory of this perfect night of love and lust.
She shifted slightly in his embrace, nuzzling her face into the crook of his neck. His skin was warm and smooth, and she could feel his heart racing beneath her ear. The scent of his cologne filled her nostrils, mixing with the unmistakable muskiness of their lovemaking. She let out a contented sigh, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest. "Thank you, Simon," she whispered softly. "That was... incredible."
He shifted slightly, turning his head to press a kiss against the top of her hair. "You're welcome, love. I've wanted this for so long." He paused, his voice rough with emotion. "I never wanted anyone else but you."
Y/N felt a shiver of pleasure run down her spine at his words. She knew that they had both crossed a line last night, but she couldn't help but feel a sense of rightness, of completion. They belonged together, and last night had only served to strengthen that bond. She wrapped her arms tighter around him, reveling in the feel of his strength and the steady rhythm of his heart.
As she drifted back to sleep, she was aware of the weight of his hand on her hip, guiding her closer into his body. She knew that when they finally woke up, their lives would have changed irrevocably, but for now, they could just be together, wrapped in each other's arms, and savor the memory of this perfect night.
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melanieph321 · 2 days
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heyy i love your writing and just wanted to say i appreciate your work💖
my request is something like you are best friends with fermin (or gavi) and he’s madly in love with you but you don’t know about it so when you start seeing someone (possibly another footballer) he gets jealous and does something outrageous like posts a story with a photo of yours which is odd considering he’s never done it before and the person you’re seeing gets mad and you also get mad because it’s obvious he’s doing it for another reason and have an argument with him when he confesses his true feelings in a moment of weakness which causes you to take a step back but you soon realize you’re actually more into him than you knew and go to him late at night and make out
i don’t know if this is something you’d be interested in but i’d love to read it
SEVEN DAYS OF REQUEST (DAY 2)
Ugh, I hate you for making such a good request. Took me all day to finish this. And I had to make it a four part series since I put my own spin on it. Hope that's okay.
Fermin Lopez x Reader - You or Me Part 1/4
Part 2 part 3 part 4
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Enjoy!
It was just a silly youth camp for all the Barca Academy's boys and girls. How it turned out so ugly, you had no idea.
It was a Friday morning when all of the players were put on a bus to a Boot Camp four hours outside of Barcelona. You were thankful that the academy boys did not share the same bus as the girls, but trailed in their own vehicle not too far behind. However it was bound to get messy at the camp grounds since the girls and boys were sharing the same hotel.
"Who are you texting?" Camilla asked.
"No one." You muttered, but nudged your phone out of her view.
"Come on, don't be shy, tell me who you're texting."
You perked up, peering over your seat to make sure that none of the other players could hear you. "Okay but promise not to tell anyone." 
"I promise." She grinned, giddy with excitement.
"Alejandro Garnacho."
"What! You little…"
"Shhhhh!" You exclaimed, slapping your hand against Camilla's mouth. However, 
that did not stop her from running her mouth behind the palm of your hand.  
"Huh?" You frowned, her mumbles inaudible. You removed your hand.
"I said, doesn't he have a girlfriend now?"
"And a baby." You nodded.
Camila gasped. "You slut!" 
"Relax." You said, leaning back in your seat. "We're just friends and you know that. We've been friends forever."
"Yes, but before that you had the biggest crush on him, no?"
"Yes, but that's in the past. He's happy in England with his new family. I told you about last summer, didn't I? Garnacho and his girlfriend let me stay with them while I was over there trying out for Manchester United's U21 youth team. Garnacho and I have become really close since then. Close friends." You added, before Camilla could call you a slut again. 
The two of you sat back in silence. The road ahead was bumpy and almost made you car sick. Good thing you and Camilla were seated up front where you could see the road. You dreaded sitting in the back, since some of the girls thought it would be funny to make faces at the boys bus trailing behind you. They were having a laugh, however you found it very annoying.
"Did you hear that Fermin and Gavi are joining us on Saturday?" Camilla said.
"Hurray….." You mumbled and kept scrolling through your phone.
"I know." She snorted. "They've gotten pretty stuck up since they started playing for the first team, but I've heard that they're holding a seminar on mental health. It could be fun?"
"Mental health?" You put down your phone to glance at Camilla. Her lips twitched into a smile seeing your not-so-convinced expression. "I know Fermin Lopez of all people is not holding a seminar on mental health." you laughed. "That boy has caused me nothing but severe anxiety and depression and now he wants to talk about mental health? I guess pigs do fly."
"I dunno." Camilla shrugged. "Don't you think he has matured since he started playing for the first team? I know Gavi has."
"Please, don't get me started on Pablo Gavi." You sighed. "Fermin and Gavi were the worst of the worst when they were playing for the academy. Don't you remember Boot Camp 2019?"
Camilla chuckled. "Whatever you say. I for one am excited."
And she had the right to be. No one enjoyed drama more than Camilla. This year's Boot Camp had nothing but drama.
Part 2
Part 3
part 4
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rosanna-writer · 2 days
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now i've read all of the books beside your bed
Summary: A Gwynlain drabble inspired by “source?” divine intuition, gut instinct, and cryptic symbolism from my dreams" Warnings: none Rating: T Word Count: ~600 Read on AO3
"Sweetheart," Gwyn said, trying and failing to sound patient, "how many times are we going to talk about this?"
Elain looked up from her novel, all doe-eyed innocence. "Talk about what?"
Gwyn never fell for that—from their first meeting, it had been abundantly clear to her that Elain Archeron wasn't nearly as sweet and naive as everyone assumed her to be.
It was one of the many reasons Elain had married her.
One of the other reasons had been Gwyn's enthusiastic support of Elain's efforts to create comprehensive taxonomies of the Night Court's native flora. It had been more than just words of encouragement—Gwyn had volunteered to fetch books, organize notes, and check facts.
That had been years ago, but Gwyn still proofread Elain's work. These days, she did it from the comfort of her desk in their home library, often with Elain curled up in the nearby armchair like she was now.
It had become a comfortable routine, which is why Gwyn merely narrowed her eyes at Elain and said, "Your citations."
"Did I get the numbering wrong again? I—"
"Elain. You can't cite prophetic visions in an academic treatise."
"You can if you're a seer," Elain said mildly, as if that settled it.
Gwyn set her pen down, rubbing her temples. "They can't really be independently verified, and scholarly work needs to be reproducible."
"There's not much point to seeing the future if I don't share what I know, now is there?"
"You should write something more than just a footnote that says 'This was once revealed to me in a dream.'"
They'd gone back and forth on this for years—it would be remiss to exclude relevant information Elain had gleaned from a vision, but in the bibliography, it couldn't quite be categorized as a firsthand account or an interview. Gwyn had asked the scholars in the library for advice, but seers were so rare that no one had ever given the issue much thought.
The argument could go on for hours if they let it, and Elain had no intention of ruining their evening. She closed her book and stood, crossing the room and wrapping her arms around Gwyn's shoulders.
"I appreciate your attention to detail all the same."
Gwyn smiled—even with her, Elain couldn't quite manage to stop being a bit prim and diplomatic. The sound of it was just as familiar as Elain's jasmine-and-honey scent. "I appreciate you all the same."
Elain pressed a kiss to Gwyn's cheek. "Appreciate you more."
Gwyn couldn't ignore a challenge like that. With all the strength and grace of a Valkyrie, she turned and slid both hands under Elain, lifting her wife as she rose to her feet. Elain let out a surprised laugh and locked her legs around Gwyn's waist.
"Do you have a source for that claim?" Gwyn said. It must have gotten on Elain's nerves just the way she'd hoped it would—Elain leaned down and kissed her, immediately parting Gwyn's lips with her tongue. Gwyn carried her without breaking the kiss, taking a few steps forward until Elain's back was pressed against the bookshelf.
Gwyn might have been the one who had Elain pinned, but Elain's hand drifted to her hair, fingers tangling in the strands to keep her right where Elain wanted her. Not that Gwyn wanted to be anywhere else—she'd stay there forever if she could, with Elain's mouth on hers and her hands splayed on Elain's ass.
Neither one of them was sure exactly how much time had passed when they finally broke apart, flushed and breathing a bit harder. But as intoxicating as Elain was, Gwyn was still lucid enough to remember that she'd never gotten an answer to her question. "Do you?" she said, pushing for a response. "Extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence, Elain."
Elain let her head tip forward until their foreheads were touching. "Take me to the bedroom and allow me to demonstrate my appreciation, then."
The rest of the proofreading could wait until morning.
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Spielzeit Bestiary #8: The Sun Dog
Nature. Every tree, plant, and animal. It is all around us, and it is a very big part of the forest town Spielzeit's identity. The townsfolk and the surrounding forest have been in kahoots with one another ever since it split from the now defunct Playtime toy company. And now, their relationship with nature has seemingly grown stronger, due in part to a new creature said to roam the woods. They call it the Sun Dog.
Said to be the most benevolent of Spielzeit's ever growing roster of "cryptids", the Sun Dog is described as being a giant Cocker Spaniel with dark orange fur. It gets its name from what locals describe as a pendant, shaped like the sun, that it wears tightly around its neck.
It is said to be missing the lower half of its body, resulting in it crawling around wherever it goes. Those who have caught a glimpse of the Sun God report it being followed by a group of animals. The animals within said group vary, but the most common group is said to be that of a red fox, a whitetail deer, and an opossum.
Stories and sightings of the Sun Dog portray it as a protector of nature, caring for wounded and abandoned animals and helping any that cross its path. It is said to be incredibly docile, even helpful, towards humans, with one witness, Jeremy Hill, 23, describing as such.
"I was taking a walk through the woods. It was a nice day, nothing out of the ordinary. So, I'm walking, and I notice this tree, looked perfect for climbing. I get to the top of the thing, the view was really nice. Then, I heard something, sounded like, I don't know, giggling? Startled me so much that I fell off the branch, broke one of my legs. I screamed put for help for what felt like forever. Then I heard someone, they sounded like he was in his 50s, he told me not to worry, that'd he'd get me back home. That's when I saw him. We were at level with one another, he had a fox, deer, and possum at his side. Now, I've heard other people talk about this guy like he was the second coming, but actually being in his presence, I don't know, it made me feel safe. He had that look in his eyes, you know? I passed out afterwards, but when I woke up I was in town square. I won't forget that day."
The Sun Dog's contributions have not gone unnoticed. For instance, since his arrival, illegal hunting in the Spielzeit area has dropped tremendously, something that Ranger Angelo Floros has taken note of.
"Now, I'm not sure a giant, orange dog is the reason all of these hunters have went away, but regardless, this is great news. And if you want to thank this 'Sun Dog' for it, be my guest."
Many residents do, in fact, thank the Sun Dog, particularly those with some background of religion. They believe in the Sun Dog's existence so much that they have made it the central figure in their annual Summer Solstice festival. Here, there are Sun Dog themed games, food, and even stage performances about its contributions. Something notable is that during the festival, there is a chance that an animal will show up, requesting food, in which they always recieve it, yet they never immediately eat it. It is said that they bring it to the Sun Dog, who watches in the distance on the Licht hillside, where the sun shines brightest.
Is there a protector of nature living in the forests of Spielzeit? Or has Lady Luck just grazed the town with a great ecosystem? Do you believe?
(A major thank you to @abugcalledtoken for writing a greater part of the Sun Dog's lore!)
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mobius-m-mobius · 2 years
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MAKE ME CHOOSE: TenSimm edition! anon asked fav moment from Saxon or EoT!Master
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meownotgood · 3 months
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Under the influence pt2 in January 2024???
that's the plan anon... I'm in full writers mode, I've been working hard and I think a january / february release is very possible...
and with how things are looking the second chapter will likely be in the 50k words zone all by itself, and it's like 80% smut so that's a whole lot of aki fucking LOL
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nutklcker · 23 days
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I'm thinkin abt Anno rn and like
Imagine loving a Masked (romantically, platonically, or otherwise)
Wether you're an employee or a monster or whatever, you have a lovely little masked by your side all the time, and you collect scrap or hunt or just exist until eventually their body starts to deteriorate
And as a person, an organic thingy, you think it's dying and you mourn and spend your last days together, until eventually, one day, they stop moving
And then a few days later you notice the mask has fallen off, and you bring it with you as a keepsake, holding it with you for days, or weeks, or months, or maybe even years. Before eventually you just can't help it, you need to feel them, to see them, to hear them, to smell them, and you just need to be close to them again, and you bring the mask up to your face, it potentially fitting around your features perfectly, and it's like you feel them and see them and smell them again.
And then you feel their consciousness, and from her either can go two ways
Drunk on love and the grief of potentially reconnecting, you can't bring yourself to move the mask away, it feels like they're right there with you, you need to stay like this, because they feel so close. And eventually, the mask connects. And you can hear them and feel them and smell them again, but they're not there, they are but it's because they're within you. You share the same skin, you look with the same eyes and touch with the same hands, and you're perfectly together, whole once again, but in a new way that can never separate you two ever again. (*)
Or, the other option, you manage to pull the mask away, connecting the dots on what's happening, and you realize if you can just find a host you can have your lovely Masked back. So you spend time, maybe you hunt down a different Masked to use their body, maybe you go for the first humanoid thing you see like an employee or a Bracken, or maybe you are an employee and you send out a request for a new employee, recognizing you're dooming some newbie to death but coming to terms with that fate of theirs in order to have your loved one once again
And, there's a third option that's quite a but angsty beneath the cut
(*) Or, depending on your interpretation or wishes for how the masks work in this scenario, maybe once the make takes hold YOU die. And your poor Masked returns, recognizing this smell, these hands, this voice, and it's yours, but you're gone. And you've left them there, in your body, your decaying body. You had their mask, and their mask was basically immortal. But now? For them? You're gone, and the only physical remnant of you is theirs now, and because of the way their life works, that remnant is decaying, rotting, and eventually turning to dust. And once again they'll just be a mask, slowly falling off a body, waiting for someone to put it on.
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crimeronan · 7 months
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hey. hey. hey. hey. hey. i finished the princess luz AU mindscape fic.
i've been writing this off and on in short bursts between doordashes for like two months. if you've been here for all the princess luz extravaganza asks then you already know the shape of how this goes... but now u can read it in 7,400 words of expanded prose. alternate hollow mind adventures YAY
this one's Particularly special because so many of the ideas were crowdsourced and collaborative over here, i want to tag everyone who was involved but i am GARBAGE at remembering usernames. feel free to take credit for anything and everything that u came up with i love u all. @turretpolygamy at the Very Least i know u are responsible for a bunch of stuff here
anyway. the audience for this one is very specific, as usual. if you like darius having a horrific time over hunter, luz having a horrific time over hunter, luz and hunter being wildly codependent, luz being transparently crazy, raine loving luz to pieces, etc.... u will have a great time. enjoy!
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“Well, Bunny,” he said, and reached out his hand with a melancholy smile. “I suppose this is it. Thank you very much for your help—today, and on all the rest. I could not have wished for a better partner, you know,” he added, and winked. Bunny took his hand, but hesitated. “I’d like to stay until the train leaves, if you don’t mind,” he said.
Raffles/Bunny // School days era // 1 881 words
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silenthillbunni · 1 month
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📓🖊️
#maybe maybe one day i'll be ok??#maybe i'll manage to get my high school diploma#maybe i'll get a student housing apartment in another city. maybe i can study to become a pre school teacher...#(not my dream job but the only job that seems possible for me)#maybe i'll be able to work on my anxiety and avpd and become more calm#maybe i'll be able to exercise the way i want nd become physically strong#maybe i'll be brave enough to try apps to make girl friends i can hang out with???#maybe i'll get back into writing nd posting it. maybe i'llhave more fun w insta and taking photos again??#maybe i'll fix my relationship w my sisters nd talk to them again??#maybe if im lucky i'll meet someone who i fall in love w who falls for me too? maybe someone will one day choose to be with me??#maybe i can get a real apartment nd have a job? maybe i can even live w a partner one day? and maybe i'll have friends?#maybe i wont be all alone forever?? maybe i wont feel this alienated nd isolated for my entire life??#maybe maybe maybe my life can be alright....? can it really be?#i dont have much hope. but maybe??? plz plz plz let it be so let it be so#and maybe for now.. as im lower than i've ever been before..#maybe i just need to be able to eat more normally again. then i can have my coffe chocolate moments w youtube#and i can watch kdramas nd have dinner. which are two moments that make me feel ok nd calm#<<< i feel ashamed abt it but comforting eating is a thing for me. im gnna be alone 4ever anyway so might aswell just accept thats how i am#so yeah maybe maybe i'll start feel a bit better when i can disconnect from everything nd just get immersed in a kdrama nd have dinner lmao#idk. i just dont feel like i'll ever have a real life. i'll never have what i dream abt (which isnt even much. just love.. just love lmao)#so then i can daydream nd live by reading books nd watching kdramas nd tv shows nd also write a lot#but ofc in my freetime bc i need a job w a stable income nd my own apartment. even if i dont love my job i need one that i can be ok with
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set-phasers-to-whump · 6 months
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remember how i found you there, alone in your electric chair?
prompt: shock
whumpee: illya kuryakin
fandom: the man from uncle
hi! title for this one is from billy joel's you may be right, bc i simply couldn't resist lmao. hope you like it :)
It’s horribly familiar, except this time it’s Illya instead of him. He doesn’t know whether that makes it better or worse.
He’s tied to a chair, arms wrenched behind his back, and his jacket is gone and his shirt is torn and there’s a bruise beneath his eye and dried blood streaked beneath his nose. His feet are bare and stuck into a trough of water, and he’s shaking, fine tremors running through his body. 
It’s eerie. They’re in a different country, on a totally different mission, but suddenly Napoleon is back with Rudi in his torture chamber. 
Except it’s Illya in there, not him. 
He pushes the door open, gun out, but there’s no one to shoot. Only his partner, whose eyes go wide when he looks up and finds Napoleon staring at him. 
Napoleon approaches him, and Illya whispers, “stop.”
He stops. “What?”
“It -”
And suddenly Illya’s body tenses up, then starts shaking much more than it had been before. Napoleon hears a familiar buzzing noise. 
Shit.
He can’t do anything about it. Not when there’s electricity flowing. He has to wait. Has to stand there and watch as his partner is electrocuted.
A few seconds pass, and the noise abates. Illya’s body jerks one more time, and then he sort of relaxes, panting heavily. 
Napoleon wastes no time. He pulls his wire cutters from his kit and rounds the chair. Wires criss-cross each other on the back, and he cuts through several of them indiscriminately. Nothing happens. 
It has to have worked, he knows. But he still tenses up, anticipating a shock, when he touches Illya for the first time. 
Illya flinches a bit, and that is all. Napoleon breathes a sigh of relief, then quickly unties his hands and feet. The ropes have left scrapes on his skin, and Napoleon can clearly see how hard he must have fought. 
Illya stands up the second Napoleon frees him, but almost immediately sinks back down. He’s still trembling. He breathes deeply, hands on his knees. 
Napoleon waits. He remembers how he felt, after. But they can’t afford to stay here for long. At some point, someone is bound to come check in on their torture victim. 
Illya sits there for a second or two more, then stands again. Napoleon offers his arm for support, and Illya grabs it tightly, nearly stumbling already. 
“Are you alright?” Napoleon asks quietly. “Relatively speaking, I mean.”
Illya nods. 
“You can walk?”
Another nod. 
Illya can, in fact, walk, despite his recent electric shock, despite his missing shoes. Not as quickly as normal, and with a good deal more clinging to Napoleon’s arm, but they manage.
Miraculously, they run into only a single guard on their way out. Napoleon dispatches him quickly, effortlessly. 
And then they’re outside. They make it to the tree line, to cover, and Illya drops to a knee. 
“Just a second,” he says, when Napoleon also takes a knee and looks at him worriedly. “I am okay.” He hasn’t yet stopped shaking, though the tremors are less violent, less frequent. 
They rest for a little while, relatively safe and hidden behind the trees. When Illya gets back to his feet, he’s a little steadier, and Napoleon simply keeps a hand on his shoulder to support him, if needed. 
They make it to their car. Illya sinks into the passenger seat and Napoleon switches on the radio and they both relax, just a bit. 
Napoleon hums along to a song he doesn’t know the words to as they drive closer and closer to their safe house, and when he glances over at his partner, visibly exhausted and occasionally shaking, he swears that despite this, there’s the slightest hint of a smile on his face.
thanks for reading!!! love u all <3
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novelconcepts · 3 months
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i don't make resolutions, but if i did
it would be to finish this fic
(and to be kind to myself for however long it takes to actually do so)
#i'm finishing it if it kills me#i know i've been writing this makeout scene for 3 weeks but baby that can't last forever#if we want to get deep and dark and serious for a second i do think a lot of my struggles to write lately have to do with engagement#and how incredibly low engagement has been on the last few things i've written#which like. is what it is. i'm not entitled to anybody's time or comments or kudos.#but when you write stuff you're proud of and it feels like it's barely getting read it's hard to keep momentum.#this isn't intended as a woe is me or whatever it's just kind of like. there. hovering.#happens enough times you start to wonder if it's you. am i just writing for the wrong fandom/ship?#(too bad if so. they're in my bones i'm writing for them and no one can stop me.)#but yeah. if you ever wonder if authors do care or notice about hits. comments. kudos. buddy i am here to tell you#not only do we care and FLOURISH we also notice when those things drop off and readers vanish#and it is a giant bummer. and sometimes makes us wildly paranoid about why that might have happened.#so if you liked a fic today--not even one of mine. just. anybody's. share it. comment on it.#kudos at the VERY least (cuz frankly kudos is there to be an 'i got to the end and this was nice' feature.#so when you get 500 hits and only like 30 kudos? it feels like 470 of those people hated your work)#anyway. that got out of hand. lil' too raw lil' too honest. happens when you let yourself ramble at 11:30 instead of sleeping#to sum: let your local fic writer know if they've made you happy#and as we go into 2024 i am swearing to myself that this fic (and probably several others) are getting finished#come hell. high water. or dishearteningly low engagement numbers.#(and then maybe we...actually work on something original. cuz why not. new year same old me but i'll do my best.)
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