#if you’re a writer of original stories don’t even bother on here

[archiveikemen]

'Villain Wants To Bother The Little Robin' Story Event: Chapter 1

Jude Jazza & Ellis Twilight Route

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection. I do not own any of the original content. Please support CYBIRD by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.

❥･• Warnings and FAQ

Victor: Kate… will you play the role of Her Majesty the Queen?

Kate: … It’s for a mission, right? Please tell me the details.

Victor: Ahh, what a quick response! You’ve grown so much as a fairytale writer, I… I…!

Victor: Emotional moment aside, you’re right, it’s for a mission.

Victor: An American ambassador is coming for a visit. According to our intel, there is word that he is planning an assassination attempt.

Kate: That’s a very serious issue… and therefore, I will be a stand-in for Her Majesty?

Victor: Yes. Jude and Ellis will be your bodyguards.

Kate: Why the two of them specifically…?

(Apart from Ellis, I don't think Jude would want to be “my bodyguard”.)

Victor: They’re experienced in handling violent situations. Should the ambassador carry out the assassination attempt, I believe they will be able to deal with it well!

(... They do seem capable of handling such situations smoothly…)

Kate: What exactly should I do as Her Majesty?

Victor: You will be receiving gifts, and have dinner at the evening banquet.

Victor: Basically, you only have to graciously accept the gifts presented to you.

Victor: The ministers will be present as well, so it’s OK for you to leave the complicated conversations to them.

Kate: Simply put, I just have to dress as Her Majesty and sit there… am I right to say that?

Victor: Yes! Her Majesty prefers to be quiet, so it’ll be alright if you remain silent.

Victor: Your voice sounds different from Her Majesty’s, which might raise suspicion. The two of them will follow up accordingly.

Victor: I understand that asking you to be a decoy is a difficult request… but you’re the only person who understands the situation enough to do so.

Victor: Will you accept the task?

(This proves that he trusts me as a fairytale writer. Moreover, Her Majesty's life is at stake here.)

Kate: Yes, I’ll do my best.

(Jude is a sadist who finds joy in tormenting others.)

(If I become indebted to him, there’s no knowing what he’ll demand for as payment. I can't afford any slip ups.)

(Ellis is kind and will do anything to make other people happy, but…)

(Because he will really do “anything”, I have to be careful so that he won't go overboard.)

(At any rate, in order to ensure that this mission will be successful without any troubles, I shall focus only on being a stand-in for Her Majesty.)

Kate: Victor, could you tell me more about Her Majesty's mannerisms? Such as her habits or anything that makes her unique.

Victor: …

Victor: Of course. I’ll tell you as much as I can.

After receiving some acting tips from Victor, I holed myself up in the library.

I wanted to learn a little bit about the royal family, the names and faces of the ministers, and the history of America and England…

…

(In the end, it feels like the more I study, the more overwhelmed I feel about my lack of knowledge. It made me feel more hopeless…)

I wore a crown, a veil that covered my face up to my chin, a pair of shoes to disguise my height, and an elegant gown.

I was already feeling defeated.

Jude: You fell asleep in the library, commoner.

Ellis: I’m glad you didn't catch a cold.

Kate: …!

Jude and Ellis stood on either side of me, laughing as if they had read my mind.

Kate: By any chance, was it… the two of you who covered me with a blanket?

Ellis: Yeah. Because you looked cold.

Kate: Thanks, Ellis.

Ellis: Jude pushed you back upright when you were about to slip off the table… with his knee.

Jude: That was because you were a hindrance.

Kate: Kicking a sleeping lady…

Jude: Calling some kid who played sleeping beauty in the library a “lady”? Don’t make me laugh.

Jude: You must’ve been working that little commoner brain of yours in your own way. How great.

Ellis: Mm-hmm. You’re studying hard to pull off pretending to be Her Majesty. You’re very great.

The former was entirely sarcasm, while the latter was a genuine and innocent compliment.

My facial muscles were confused about what facial expression to make.

(A- Anyway…)

Kate: I’ll be under your care for the next two days.

Jude: Decoy means someone who’s willing to die in another person’s place. Long story short, it’ll cost you your life.

Jude: … As long as the assassins are dealt with, it doesn't matter even if you die. Peace of cake.

Ellis: Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.

Ellis: I’m no good at politics and diplomacy… but I’m good at sensing when there are knives and bullets coming my way.

Ellis: I’ll do my best to support you so won’t have a hard time.

Kate: I… I’ll do my best too.

If Jude were something that’s tongue burning spicy, then Ellis would be sweet as sugar.

Being stuck in between time gave my heart no time to calm down.

(I wonder how Ellis is working for Jude.)

(Even though Jude isn’t the type of person to let people come close to him, he always has Ellis by his side.)

I remembered hearing that they worked together because of a contract.

(What on earth does that contract entail…?)

Jude: A commoner posing as the Queen will be easily exposed and gotten rid off.

Kate: Will Jude be able to do well as the Queen’s bodyguard with that sort of attitude and manner of speech?

Ellis: Jude is surprisingly capable of proper behaviour in public.

Jude: You might not know this, but this guy is crazy.

Kate: In what way…?

Ellis: Who knows? :)

Jude: You’ll find out soon enough.

(Are you saying that Ellis is no better at being a bodyguard than you? … Seems to me that it's the other way around.)

Ellis: … Hey, Jude, Kate.

Jude: Ah?

Kate: Yes?

Ellis: I have a suggestion—

Ellis: Let’s make a deal whereby if we succeed in this mission without having our identities exposed, we’ll fulfil one request from each other… what do you think?

(Fulfil each other's requests after completing the mission?)

Jude: What’s with that meaningless suggestion?

Ellis: I’m thinking of how to make this mission more enjoyable for Kate.

Ellis: What do you think…?

(So that’s what Ellis is thinking…)

I realised that since this morning, I had been unknowingly weighed down by the burden of wearing the crown.

(... Ellis is really good at telling how someone is feeling.)

Kate: Thank you, Ellis. We’ll do that!

Ellis: Fufu, then it’s decided.

(... Hm? But I heard him say “each other”...)

(I’ll have to grant requests from Jude and Ellis…)

Jude: … Just endure it as much as possible. I’ll be watching you make a fool of yourself while thinking of what “request” I’ll make you fulfil.

Ellis: Me too, I’ll be… thinking about what “request” will make you happy.

Seeing the two very different smiles, my facial muscles were once again unsure about what facial expression to make.

...

Chamberlain: The ambassador from America, Abel Edmund, has arrived.

The chamberlain loudly announced the ambassador's arrival, and the door to the audience hall opened slowly.

(... It’s happening.)

Jude and Ellis stood on guard behind me.

“Why did Her Majesty choose to be guarded by two unknown men, instead of the royal guards?” When I first entered the hall, I could hear the ministers whispering amongst themselves, however…

(Just one glare from Jude made their complaining cease immediately.)

(When Ellis smiled at them, the number of insolent stares decreased as well.)

(With the two of them around, my life will definitely not be in danger… it’ll be alright.)

I straightened my back and lifted my chin, fixing my posture according to what I learnt from Victor.

(I must focus on maintaining a regal attitude while acting as Her Majesty in front of the ambassador.)

Abel: I am greatly honoured to have been given the privilege of an audience with Your Majesty!

The ambassador was a man with teeth that glimmered in the light, and a smile as bright as the sun.

(Wow… he’s more frank than I thought.)

Maintaining my majesty, I nodded silently in response to his greeting.

Ellis: He looks lively.

Jude: Even if he keeps quiet, his face makes a heck lot of noise.

(P- Please don’t make me laugh!)

The point-blank commentary coming from the two of them standing behind me clearly stated their impressions of him.

Abel enthusiastically presented the various items he had brought with him as tribute.

(Even with a veil on, these items are dazzling…)

Once again, I felt overwhelmed by Her Majesty's power and influence as proven by the extravagance of the treasures gifted to her.

Abel: We have here an extremely rare avian species boasting feathers with vibrant colours. Its beauty is further enhanced by the magnificent sight of its outstretched wings.

Abel took a large bird resembling a parrot from its cage,

Abel: Please, have a look— ah!?

The parrot suddenly lifted its head and flew out of Abel’s hand.

(It’s coming this way!?)

Jude • Ellis: —!

#ikemen villains #ikemen series #cybird ikemen #cybird otome #otome #ikevil story event #jude jazza #ellis twilight

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

Francis Drake Main Story

Translations may not always capture the exact nuances or tone of the original text. Expect grammatical errors.

On the night I received the earrings from Drake一

Comte: "Drake, you seem to have gotten used to living here, but how is your body?"

Comte asked Drake over a glass of wine at the dinner table.

Comte: "You’re somewhere between a vampire and a human, so I don’t think your bloodlust is that strong."

Drake: "You’re right."

Drake: "I’ve never felt a bloodlust strong enough to make me hungry. I guess I’m no different from a human."

Comte: "I see. In your case and Napoleon’s, the human side might still be stronger."

Comte: "As I mentioned before, there is a possibility that you will lean towards becoming a second-tier vampire if you consume blood."

Drake: "So if I don’t drink blood, I’ll mostly remain human?"

Leonardo: "Who knows? Being a half-vampire is an exceptional case. There’s a lot we don’t understand. But when the bloodlust strikes, the only thing that can satisfy the thirst is blood."

As they were talking, Arthur raised a glass containing rouge towards Drake.

Arthur: "Here’s some advice from me. Blood tastes much better when you get it directly from a girl."

Arthur: "If you bite while being intimate, it’s less likely to be noticed, and the atmosphere becomes more exciting. I highly recommend it."

Theo: "Don’t bring up lewd topics during meals, horny writer."

Vincent: "I still find the taste of blood a little unpleasant. I wish I could be satisfied with Blanc, but it’s just a substitute."

Drake: "I’m fine with it. I’m used to the taste of blood."

Everyone at the table looked surprised by Drake’s statement.

Vincent: "Drake, have you already tasted rouge?"

Arthur: "You haven’t been secretly biting Mitsuki, have you? We're not allowed to sneak around, you know?"

Mitsuki: "What!?"

Drake: "Haha! Actually, I might have taken a sip."

Mitsuki: "I promise! I haven’t been bitten! Seriously, Drake, stop lying."

I hurriedly denied it, but Drake continued while cutting the meat on his plate.

Drake: "I'm used to it because it was common in my pirate days."

Drake: "During a fight, you get hurt and covered in blood. It wasn't uncommon to swallow some of it."

Theo: "Don't bring up inappropriate topics at the dinner table, Drake."

Drake laughed and took a big bite of the meat.

While listening to the conversation, something suddenly occurred to me.

(How did Drake feel about becoming a half-vampire?)

Napoleon had agonized over being resurrected as a half-vampire against his will.

At first, Drake had doubts about living in a mansion where humans and vampires coexist, but he didn't seem bothered that he was becoming more like a vampire.

We finished our dinner as I pondered these thoughts. As the night deepened, the conversation among those relaxing in the living room revolved around Drake.

Isaac: "Drake, you were resurrected without a contract, right? Wasn't there something you wanted to do in your first life?"

Drake: "Hmm, if I had to think of something, it would be things like wanting to drink more alcohol, eat delicious food, or meet the woman of my destiny."

Isaac: "The woman of your destiny?"

Drake: "The most amazing woman."

(Woman of destiny? I think he said something like that before.)

(Oh, right. When we first met.)

------------Flashback------------

Drake: "Woman of destiny."

---------Flashback Ends---------

The words he mumbled back then must have been an overflow of his final thoughts.

(The most amazing woman, huh? It's vague, but that's probably his type of woman.)

I was a little curious but felt too embarrassed to ask.

Isaac: "You're talking about desires like alcohol, food, and women as unfinished business."

Drake: "I live honestly according to my desires."

Drake: "But if I had to force myself to mention something left unfinished, I’d say to set sail and reach the end of the sea, even if a possible demise awaits me."

Drake's eyes seemed genuinely serious as he said this.

(He really seems like someone who wants to set out to sea.)

Dazai: "It's a poetic and romantic dream for someone like you. Not fearing danger is what one would expect from a captain who has circumnavigated the world."

Drake: "Right?"

Drake: " Accomplishments and great voyages are only fun after you've taken the first step. And revenge."

Mitsuki: "Revenge?"

Drake: "My voyages were always about surviving the tumultuous seas. That's why I want revenge."

Drake: "But it won't start until I get a ship. I wonder if Comte can help with that."

Dazai: "Ahaha! Let's buy a big ship and have a party."

Isaac: "You better not, because Comte might actually buy one!"

The laughter never ceased, even at night.

Several days later, in the morning...

Mitsuki: "Huh? Drake, are you going somewhere?"

While cleaning the yard, I called out to Drake when I noticed him about to leave the mansion.

Drake: "Yup, I just need to run some errands in the city."

Mitsuki: "Are you okay going alone? You're still not very familiar with the town, right?"

Drake: "Don't worry. Dazai showed me around casinos and bars the other day."

(If it's him and Dazai, they probably hit it off and went sightseeing together.)

Mitsuki: "Just be careful not to go to unsafe places. You never know what might happen."

Drake: "Are you worried about me? This monsieur is so happy."

Mitsuki: "As your roommate, it's only natural."

He teasingly peered into my face, and for some reason, my heart skipped a beat.

Drake: "Don't worry, little fawn. I'm not going for fun today. I have other matters to attend to."

Drake: "Besides, I got my stuff back, so there's nothing to fear."

He opened his coat, revealing a knife and a gun hanging from his belt.

Mitsuki: "You're a tough one. I'll try not to worry too much. Take care."

Drake: "Yeah, see you later."

I waved my hand and resumed my work as he walked away.

(What kind of errands is he running? It's rare for him to go to town alone.)

(Is he going to meet with someone?)

He was the type of person who could easily make friends with anyone, so it wouldn't be weird if he already had friends.

(Wait, is that someone a woman?)

That thought popped into my head, bringing me back to reality.

Mitsuki: “Stop it, Mitsuki! Don’t stick your nose into someone else’s business.”

I turned my attention back to my work to sweep away those unnecessary thoughts.

Sebastian: “Mitsuki, could you bring the pets’ food later?”

Mitsuki: “Sure!”

Mitsuki: “Draco seems to really like the food you make.”

Sebastian: “I’m honored.”

Sebastian happily smiled when I told him this while doing his chores.

Sebastian was like the ultimate butler—he always went the extra mile to make sure everyone, including the pets, felt totally at ease.

Sebastian: “By the way, the name Draco sounds like it'd suit a pirate.”

Mitsuki: "I heard it was originally Drake's nickname. I think it means devil."

Mitsuki: “Huh? But if it means devil, shouldn’t it be a demon? What language is Draco?” **

I tilted my head in confusion, and Sebastian raised his index finger.

Sebastian: “Before explaining that, let’s have a quiz. What do you think is the origin of Draco?”

Mitsuki: “Draco, Draco... Wait, dragon?”

Sebastian: “Impressive, that’s correct. You got it in one shot.”

Sebastian: “Draco means dragon in Latin. In some cultures, dragons and demons are considered the same.”

Sebastian: “The surname Drake itself also derives from the word dragon, so perhaps as a homage to the awe-inspiring nature of dragons, Draco, with the meaning of devil, was used as the name.”

Mitsuki: "Wow, Sebastian, you really are something. You even know the origin of the names."

Sebastian: "Well, I used to be a historian. By the way, that person's name also has the same origin."

Mitsuki: "That person?"

Sebastian: "Vlad."

Sebastian: "His family name, Draculesti, also means dragon."

(That's an interesting connection between Drake and Vlad.)

(Come to think of it, I haven't introduced them to each other yet.)

Sebastian: "Oh dear, is it this late already?"

Sebastian: "I got carried away. Mitsuki, could you do me a favor?"

Afterward, I went to the city's university.

The favor Sebastian asked me to do was to deliver something to Isaac.

------------Flashback------------

Sebastian: "Lately, Isaac has been staying late at the university for his research."

Sebastian: "He has a unique condition where he needs to consume rouge five times a day, so could you deliver this rouge and food to him?"

---------Flashback Ends---------

(I'm here at the university, but I have no idea where Isaac is.)

I wandered around the campus, but everyone was in class, so I couldn't find anyone to ask.

(Hmm. I guess I'll have to wait for the class to end.)

Deciding on that, I looked up at the sky in the courtyard and saw the moon.

(The moon is so pretty.)

(It's quiet around here. It's making me feel so relaxed.)

Lost in the beauty of the moon, I walked without realizing someone had come out of the corner of the building.

Mitsuki: "Kyaah!"

???: "........."

I accidentally bumped into someone, and the thick book they were holding fell to the ground with a thud.

Mitsuki: "I'm sorry! Are you okay?"

???: "Be more careful."

Hey, little fawn. There's something that's been bothering me lately. It's not about the 19th century or vampires. It's about you.

Apart from me calling you little fawn, does anyone else have a nickname for you?

Because I heard Theo calling you Hondje and Dazai calling you Toshiko-san. I even heard that someone called you a guinea pig.

I can't help but wonder how they even called you that in the first place. Well, I guess they must be wondering about my nickname for you, too.

I'm a bit bummed that someone else had their own nickname for you before I did. So, I have a suggestion.

Let's not have anyone other than me—oops, I mean anyone other than me and Draco call you little fawn. Why? Because I don't like it.

Even though you're my little fawn, if everyone else starts calling you that, it'll feel like they took you away from me.

So, let's make little fawn a special privilege for us. Can I get your approval, little fawn?

Previous Part ╎ Masterlist ╎ Next Part

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevamp jp #ikevamp drake #ikevamp francis #francis drake #ikevamp translations #cybird #ikevamp galileo

[breaniebree]

THE FINAL CHAPTER IS HERE!

Chapter 41 -- The One With the Final Epilogue

Well, this is it!  THE FINAL LAST EPILOGUE AND LAST CHAPTER of my world of Kismet.  It started back in 2018 with some random Marauder snippets that I put aside to write about Sirius and Remus raising Harry which turned from a 25 chapter story idea to 360 chapters of A Second Chance and led me to write a prequel with my original Marauder snippets in The First Time Around.  It ended with Third Times the Charm.

As I always say, I write this story for myself first and this is the final chapter of what I wanted to write and how I wanted to end my world of Kismet.  I’m very excited to share it with you and I hope you’re excited to read it.  I hope those of you who have been reading this story have been enjoying it even half as much as I’ve enjoyed writing it and that you like the ending as much as I do.  And for those of you who don’t, I thank you for reading as long as you have and hope you find a story some day that pleases you more.  There are a lot of amazing writers in the world and I hope someone gives you the ending you want.

As for me I am very proud of my final scene and of this trilogy.  

THANK YOU!

I would like to firstly thank @thedistantdusk, who even though only was my Beta from chapters 200-360 of ASC and for all of The First Time Around, her patience and guidance were greatly appreciated.  Thank you to SilverStarwolfe who was my first Beta from about chapter 120-190 before life got in the way and she had to stop, her patience and guidance was also greatly appreciated.  Thank you to @seriouslysam8 who was an amazing sounding board and helped me work out the kinks in the final idea of Sirius and Zee and helped me come up with the story titles for The First Time Around and Third Times the Charm.  I really appreciate all of the help she gave me and hope one day she might even read it too.  LOL.  Thank you to @ellieoryan7447 for being such an amazing reader who went out of her way to attempt to make character art all about my characters.  It’s surreal to me that people even want to do that and is more appreciated than I can possibly put into words.  And lastly, thank you to @celtics534 for putting up with my random asks about reading over scenes, giving great writing advice, and not being afraid to tell me when something is crap and how to fix it.  You’re more appreciated than you know.  PS — Sorry for bothering the crap out of you with final reviews of this last chapter LOL.

Thank you to everyone who has been reading from the beginning, to those jumped in somewhere in the middle, and to anyone new who stumbled across this world when the final story was ending.  THANK YOU!

Thank you so much to everyone who has taken the time to follow me in this story-writing journey for the last six years.  It means so much to me.

I have no plans of writing anything else in the near future, as I do very much need a break, but who knows what the future will bring.  These epilogues, while being very much a conclusion, still leave lots of holes for me to jump back in if I ever want to (old and next generation).  It leaves the world of Kismet open to me in the future while still showing you that that there was a happily ever after for these characters (which is very much deserved).

Thank you again for all of the continuous support and love I have received.

Please remember to drop a review — I love to read to them.

THANK YOU!

Love always, 😘

A 🇨🇦Canadian🇨🇦 girl who loves writing HP fanfiction

~ Breanie aka Bree ~

#harry potter fanfiction #breanie #chapter update #the world of asc #hinny #the kismet trilogy #the kismet trilogy by breanie #third times the charm #harry and ginny #sirius black and oc #sirius and zee oc #remus and tonks #if harry was raised by sirius and remus #draco and astoria #hermione x ron #theodore nott and oc #theobas #greg and pansy #neville and hannah #luna and rofl #seamus finnigan and dean thomas #albus and scorpius #bill and fleur #george and angelina #percy and audrey #fred and fiadh #charlie weasley and lee jordan

[galaxythreads]

Hi, do you mind if I rant a little? Because I found one of your posts while browsing the Loki tag and I’ve since found several more. Then I found your WandaVision one and it reminded me all over again how annoyed that finale made me. I’m sorry, I know it’s been a couple years since it came out, but MY DAYS! What were they thinking in the writers room!? It could’ve all been resolved if Wanda didn’t know what she was doing and sincerely apologised after for it, but… SHE KNEW!? The whole time! And then felt justified for it! “They won’t know what you sacrificed” still being one of the worst lines to come from Marvel. What happened to Wanda crying her eyes out in Lagos because she caused casualties? What happened to Wanda having a panic attack in AOU because she realised what she’d accidentally caused to happen? I had my own opinions about her before, but now I can’t stand her. It would be alright if Marvel went down the villain route of Wanda grieving so much she can no longer care to do good, but they’re still trying to act like she’s a good person after this, as if they haven’t made all her casualties only POC, as if she had a right to enslave an entire town and gaslight her husband and kids. I’m sorry, I’ve gone on for longer than I meant to about something you’re probably not even bothered about anymore. I don’t even know if I’m making sense

rant away, you're good. I remember that i made that post after months (weeks?) of frustration about seeing people praising the ground that Wanda walks on when all I could see when I looked at her is one of the most selfish people in the entirety of MCU. Her character was so good until WandaVision and MoM. She and Loki were my favorite characters.

"It could’ve all been resolved if Wanda didn’t know what she was doing and sincerely apologized after for it, but… SHE KNEW!?"

EXACTLY. There is a massive difference between "i did this without meaning to, I am so sorry" vs "I know I am actively hurting these people and I DO NOT CARE" she comes across as so cold and so selfish because she doesn't. Wanda in WandaVision doesn't care about other people, just what she wants. I just can't help but think about the beginning of her arc vs the end and just feel massive disappointment. And I think it wouldn't be as annoying if it wasn't framed like she was a hero. If they intentionally took her on a dark path and let her be evil, it would have been fine and I would have enjoyed it because I would have been in awe of the clever writing.

But she's not. Wanda is not a hero in WandaVision for holding an entire town captive. she's not a hero for being aware of what she was doing and then doing it anyway. Like I guess the problem with WandaVision is that the finale and the rest of the series seem to disagree with each other, if that makes sense?

Wanda knows what she's doing in every episode until the end, where she's suddenly more sympathetic because she's not trying to hurt people?

like this scene:

this scene was clearly intended for her to BE the villain

but then you get to the end and the finale is like "NOPE! She was actually a good person the Whole Time :D"

look at her! Would I say she's in her right mind? no. but she is aware, she is responding, she is conscious, she KNOWS what she is doing because she understands that the wall can be exited and entered, she is aware these people are here to RESCUE the townspeople and she threatens them. She has what she wants, that's all that matters. WandaVision is an amazing villain origin story. but somehow after all of this she still doesn't have to face any repercussions???

gughsguhgusdghsdglihsdg. Yeah, it's been years and I'm still mad.

but this

are not this:

#anti wandavision #anti wanda maximoff #i miss her so much #who she used to be before this giant mess :( #anon answered

[ofmermaidstories]

I’m pretty sure I got blocked by a blog bc I’m a silent reader and don’t really interact with fandom writers. Like I went to follow her blog and like 10 mins later she blocked me from her personal blog and the writing blog I originally tried to follow, this is despite having my 21+ age in my bio 😭. Ngl I kinda fill hurt and sad, sorry if I’m bothering you but I really wanted to share this with someone

Oh Anon. 🥺 I’m so sorry. It’s okay to be sad—you’re human! I’d be sad too if I was inexplicably blocked from following a writer I liked!! I hope it was an accident; that maybe you were just caught in the crossfire of a pornbot sweep. 🥺 I hope you get to enjoy their work without the hurt of this ruining their stories for you.

If it was deliberate, then—whatever! I’ve said this before and I’ll say this again and again: fanfic is never so serious that you need to provide an itinerary to a stranger in order to justify how you read something, even if they created it.

Please remember that the only thing you owe a writer in this community and fandom at large, Anon, is not being a dick LOL. You’re allowed to read however you want to! You’re allowed to exist!!! Don’t let one individual’s intense policing of their space scare you into changing how you exist. 🥺 Yes, writers like to be told nice things about the stuff they write—they like hearing that the hard work has paid off. But here’s the thing: writers make an active choice to freely share their work online. Fandom is a gift culture; fanfic is the gift. You don’t demand payment for gifts. You can hope someone likes it enough that they tell you, LOL, and maybe you’ll get to see it in the wild or maybe you get a nice little thank-you card with a cute little picture of a rose on the front, but you cannot demand these things. If it’s that important that access to your fic is accompanied by a certain set of actions, then put it behind a paywall. The paywall doesn’t guarantee said actions, LOL, but at least then you’re making money. 🥹

It genuinely makes me sad for you, Anon, that you were punished for reading. 🥺 The pushback from writers against not being treated like a content-creator that can churn out things on demand is a fair one, but I think on tumblr it’s misguided and has warped into open season on anyone who isn’t a writer themselves. Writers aren’t machines and we do thrive better when we’re supported; but readers aren’t just numbers, either. People like to use the “social” part in social media as an excuse for this targeting; they forget that the key part to any kind of social community is that it’s made up of all kinds.

Feel your hurt, Anon. 🥺 You did nothing wrong. No matter what your reading looks like in the future—whether you choose to say hello to people or if you continue reading quietly and cosily in your downtime—may you always find fics (and people!) who make you happy. 🌷📖

#ofmermaidstories-asks #i hope your week is nothing but kind from here on out anon 🪲🌷💕 #the reblog thing—discourse

[wouldntyou-liketoknow]

Day 11: Split

(Disclaimer: the characters here do not belong to me. Both Wilford Warfstache and William J. Barnum/The Colonel belong to the Markiplier Cinematic Universe.)

(Please note that the concept this story revolves around isn’t something I originally came up with. That honor goes to @ghiertor-the-gigapeen, who posted this amazing piece of art last October! Please check out their blog and show them some love!!!)

(Trigger Warnings: descriptions of body horror, blood/gore, fear/panic, trauma/flashbacks, pain and suffering, strong language. Please let me know if I missed anything.)

Day 1 Day 2 Day 3 Day 4 Day 5 Day 6 Day 7 Day 8 Day 9 Day 10 Day 12 Day 13

“Say, have you ever tried your hand at writing?” Wilford casually inquires, titling his head and pressing his index finger against his temple. 

You hum at the question, wracking your brain. “I’m. . .not sure, honestly. I mean, I probably have at some point, but all the conflicting timelines make it hard to tell.” There’s a generous amount of sarcasm in your voice. So much, in fact, that you have to concentrate on emphasizing the right words.

Of course, Wilford’s response is an overexaggerated quirk of his lips, his eyes as thoughtful as they are mischievous. “True, true, very true. Sometimes you wish those pesky timelines would just fit in your hands so you could organize them to your taste.”

“Took the words right out of my mouth,” you reply, tone dry enough to make Death Valley look rather lush. 

“BUT,” Wilford, never to not have the last word, continues. “If you could do that, then you wouldn’t really be able to have any more adventures. You wouldn’t get to be surprised or horrified! Things would go from challenging and unforgettable to. . .thoughtless and predictable. Sooner or later, you wouldn’t be able to appreciate whatever comes to grip at your mind or heart!”

His hands are a blur as he throws out one dramatic gesture after another. His expressions follow suite, obviously. Even so, the conniving ember in his eyes never completely fades away. In fact, that ember seems to glow a bit brighter as he finally returns to sitting still and staring at you. “True beauty really lies in thrill, my friend. There’s just no two ways about it!”

You don’t bother trying to suppress an eye-roll. . .and yet a small, genuine smile still manages to fight its way onto your face. Wilford’s statement is partially undeniable. Sure, you’ve been through hell and back, but you saw so many things along the way. You’ve met all sorts of people. The scenarios you keep finding yourself in are literally anything and everything but boring. 

Yes, your existence and abilities have proven to be a curse. . .but that curse has still shaped itself into a gift more times than you can count. 

That’s why you rang that little call-bell: to be taken here to this studio in order to see this insane, frustrating, omnipotent journalist who you (somehow) still have a soft spot for.

“. . .Y’know, I can’t remember the last time you were so specific with your questions,” you point out, leaning back in your provided chair. “What made you bring up writing, of all things?” 

Wilford tsk-tsk-tsk-tsk-tsks at you, raising an eyebrow so high that it could potentially need a drug test. “Sounds like someone has forgotten who’s the interviewer and who’s the interviewee.” 

You spread your arms in a small lame gesture, making sure that your eyes help your incredulousness to be palpable. “Hey, listen. One of these days, the roles are gonna be reversed. MARK my words. I’ll be damned if that doesn’t happen at least once.”

“You make a good argument; there’s a chance something like that has already happened,” Wilford admits. He drags out a conspiratory hum for about ten seconds or so, slipping off his pink afro and fidgeting with it. “Well, writers can be a bit of a rare breed nowadays. They’re plentiful if you’re exploring the right circles, but even then, many are still so shy about their work.” 

“Can’t really blame them for that,” you reply. “Not with how unfair the industries have gotten.”

“Oh, don’t I know it!” Wilford huffs a mirthless laugh. “I used to write for the odd column and blog or two. The readers were lovely, but lemme tell you—”

“The higher-ups were not?” You guess with an empathetic smile, just barely noticing how he’s started to squirm in his seat. 

Wilford groans in exasperation. “Don’t even get me started. They turned their noses up at so many things, you’d think they were each three tapirs in a trenchcoat! I remember thinking, ‘If they’re so desperate for cookie-cut stories to have complete control over, then why don’t they just write these goddamn stories themselves?!’’’

You don’t blink: partially because your eyes aren’t dry, and partially because, if you had, you would’ve missed the mixture of sadness and frustration that just flickered on Wilford’s face. It was a tiny amount, and it’s already been beaten into submission by his trademark coyness. 

But it was genuine. 

“. . .I can tell you why,” you declare. “Because writing requires patience and effort and thought. Heart, too. And in my experience, it’d be a miracle for an employer to have at least one of those things.”

Wilford’s eyes ever-so-slightly widen as your words sink in. Something warm and appreciative etches its way into the smile he’s wearing. 

“Words to live by,” he announces with a proud nod. “I don’t think I ever saw anything like that in my old head-honchos. It was always, ‘ThErE’s No WaY wE cAn PuBlIsH tHiS wItHoUt CeNsOrInG hAlF oF iT.’ ‘jUsT bEcAuSe ThE rEaDeRs LeAvE fEeDbAcK DoEsN’t MeAn YoU cAn InTeRaCt WiTh ThEm.’ ‘OuR sHaReHoLdErS wIlL bE oFfEnDeD bY tHiS.’ ‘rEaDeRs DoN’t NeEd To KnOw AbOuT tHaT.’ ‘wHeRe DiD yOu GeT tHaT kNiFe?’ ‘WhAt ThE hElL aRe YoU dOiNg?’ ‘I’m CaLlInG tHe PoLiCe YoU mAnIaC!’”

The droning pitch he’d put on falls away as he collapses into a fit of chuckling.

You, meanwhile, force out an awkward cough to try and hide the nervous grimace that has crawled into your features.

Even if Wilford is an old friend, even if his heart is sometimes in the right place, you can’t afford to forget that his brain is not. That it hasn’t been for a long time now. And it will probably never be anywhere near the right place again.

Not only that, but the longer you listen to Wilford’s giggling, the more you realize just how. . .off it sounds. As though Wilford’s voice is layered; like something else is trying to worm its way up through his bubbly tone.

“And those trials were just in the world of journalism,” Wilford continues once the hilarity finally dies down. “I can hardly imagine what writers in more creative circles have to go through.”

For seemingly no reason, that statement prompts a tidal wave of adrenaline to come rushing through you. 

“Simply taking notes of things in reality can be so difficult. Just think about how long it’s taken for us to make some actual progress with this interview,” Wilford muses, gesturing to all the twinkling lights that decorate his studio. “But how could that struggle even compare to someone creating an entire world of their own? Birth is already one of the most traumatic things a person is capable of, and that’s just when it happens on the outside. So it’s astounding that anyone can survive birthing so many things inside their little head!” 

Perhaps to drive the point home, he lightly raps his knuckles against his forehead as he returns his pink afro to its rightful place. 

“Could’ve gone my whole life without hearing that analogy,” you blurt. 

“No, I don’t think you could’ve,” Wilford whispers. 

You glare at him as an uncomfortable, oily energy slithers along your ribcage. The fact that Wilford is now visibly shaking doesn’t help. 

“Are. . .are you okay, Wil?” You wonder aloud, your irritation slowly but surely leaning toward paranoia. 

“Peachy!” Wilford answers, gesturing toward his face with a flourish. “Why, does this not look like the face of someone who’s peachy?”

You attempt not to cringe too hard as you offer one of those nod-shrugs, gingerly poking the skin beneath your eyes.

Wilford’s expression contorts with confusion. He rises to stand on the seat of his chair, reaching up toward the ceiling. After producing a hand mirror from somewhere you can’t see, he sits back down and peers at his reflection.

Of course, he doesn’t react to the sight of blood oozing down his cheeks from his tear ducts like most people would. Instead of screaming or fainting or trying to pluck his eyes out in order to keep whatever curse they may or may not be harboring from infecting the rest of his body, Wilford casually tosses the mirror over his shoulder, not acknowledging the sound of glass shattering as he fishes a handkerchief from one of his pockets. 

“Meh, it’s a wednesday. You know how wednesdays are,” Wilford mentions as he begins scrubbing at the small, dark red rivers. 

“I’m not so sure I do,” you murmur. 

You consider suggesting to pause the interview here with an oath to resume it some other day. . .but that consideration evaporates when you remember exactly what happened the last time this interview was interrupted. Gunshots echo between your ears, and your heart more or less threatens to start palpitating. 

Hell, you’re already expecting this interview to be cut short sooner or later; it’s had to be delayed at least sixty-nine thousand, four-hundred-twenty times by now, if memory serves (though, let’s be honest, it probably doesn’t). 

But despite everything you’ve gone through up until this point, you still trust your instincts.

Which are currently screaming at you to not be the thing that prompts the inevitable next raincheck.

Plus, while one part of you is worried for Wilford’s wellbeing, the other part of you knows that it doesn’t matter. This is Wilford Warfstache we’re talking about. Even if he got mauled by a hippopotamus fueled by copious amount of acid and maliciously-intended vibes, he’d still find a way to continue existing with a chipper, knowing smile. 

“Now, where were we?” Wilford inquires. You don’t know why, because he immediately snaps his fingers. “Ah, yes! Writing!”

Seeing that his face is clean once again, he throws the now bloodstained handkerchief into the air, where it quickly flutters down to join the broken mirror somewhere on the floor behind his chair. 

“Well, I’ve already rambled on about my adventures with that. Please, tell me more about your thoughts on writing. You know I’d love to hear them!”

“Is that why you booked me for this? And here I was, thinking you just wanted me to sit here and look handsome and/or beautiful!” You joke, hoping to distract yourself from the dread that’s just started festering in your stomach.

Wilford chortles at that. And although the sound almost unveils some happy memories, you can still tell that he’s acutely aware of aforementioned dread.

You chew your lip, thinking.

By the time you’re able to predict what that question could lead to, it’ll probably be too late.

Might as well be honest with your answer, then. 

“I think writing is pretty incredible,” you pronounce. “Some people try to say it isn’t a real type of art, and I’ll never be able to understand why. Like you just said: it’s always so much harder and scarier to do than it’s given credit for. It takes the same amount of energy and care to write as it does to sculpt or paint or sew.”

The words seem to make Wilford grow more excited. “Speaking of which: don’t you just love it when different types of artists work together? I’m always seeing writers basing plot elements off of drawings and drafters sketching out scenes from stories. That camaraderie is one of the best kinds, I think. Reminds me of how wolves and crows help each other hunt.”

“Exactly!” You reply. “Writers and other artists do wonderful stuff like that all the time! Just because they can! And—”

You abruptly trail off, the chemicals in your brain rerouting themselves before they even have a chance to signal more happiness. 

“And. . ?” Wilford prompts, watching you curiously.

“. . .And they barely get any appreciation,” you eventually resume, feeling your face drop. “It’s just so. . .depressing that creative people can’t rely on their craft. Don’t get me wrong, some of them get lucky, but most. . .no matter how hard they practice or research, no matter how much time they spend polishing their projects. . .they still end up having so little to show for it.”

“Such a damn shame,” Wilford agrees, his voice uncharacteristically soft. 

Your gaze wandered down to the floor during your little monologue, so you can’t help but flinch when Wilford pats you on the shoulder. 

The gesture isn’t forceful—it’s not like he’s digging his nails through your shirt—but nothing could’ve prepared you for how hot the skin of his palm feels. Wilford’s hand retracts quickly enough, but the heat lingers, racing down your arm as though some invisible person accidentally spilled a translucent cup of fresh-outta-the-pot, wraithlike coffee onto you.

(I’ve read/heard plenty of symbolism that involves boiling blood, but this is ridiculous.)

A gasp catches in your throat as you return your attention to Wilford. 

He almost resembles a celebrity who, thanks to the power of hubris and a little too much xanax, drowned in their backyard swimming pool. . .Well, really, that’s just because of his clothes; if he wasn’t dressed in a bowtie and button-down (which looks suspiciously like silk), he’d probably look like the average corpse that was just pulled out of a river. Minus the awful bloating that always comes with underwater decay, that is. 

You’d only looked away from him for a moment.

How the hell could someone’s skin turn so sickly pale in such short time?

“If there are any artists watching tonight, I’m sure you’ve made them get a little misty,” Wilford reMARKs, reaching up to wipe a single tear from the corner of his left eye. “But that doesn’t mean they have to worry. One way or another, the arts will get more respect in the future.”

“. . .You think so?” You’re not exactly sure where that question came from, but you know better than to stay silent. Besides, you can’t be blamed for having let a mite of pessimism creep into your attitude over the years.

“I know so!” Wilford promises. “So long as a virtuoso shows off what they can do, there’ll always, always be a number of admirers in their corner.” 

You nod without hesitation. It’s impossible to disagree with that sentiment. In fact, you almost start to wonder if whatever the hell has been happening to Wilford throughout this conversation is about to reverse itself. . .

“Though, I have to wonder,” Wilford maintains, glancing over at nothing in particular with a wry, thoughtful smirk. “Could what you just talked about be the reason for the current shift in creative circles?”

(Aaaaannnd that’s why you almost got hopeful.)

“‘Shift?’” You echo. “What do you mean by that?”

You already know, of course. But you also know that Wilford is nothing if not a theatrical bastard. You’ve already played along with whatever has been building up for the past few minutes, so why stop now?

“Well, it seems like the majority of artists celebrate Halloween all year ‘round,” Wilford explains. “Drawings and sculptures of monsters, stories full of insanity, the whole shebang. I’m certainly not complaining, and neither are all those admirers I mentioned. But. . .do you think an artist’s frustration is what causes them to serve muses on the darker side of the spectrum?”

You shift in your seat, trying to ignore the fact that someone out there is probably rolling their eyes and muttering, “i’M fOuRtEeN aNd ThIs Is DeEp.”

(Then again, everything you and Wilford just said is completely valid, so that judgemental prick can just fuck off.)

“I guess it can, in a lot of cases,” you answer. “It’s amazing how many unique ways artists can go about symbolizing those struggles. Even so, a lot of artists focus on twisted aspects just because they see things in ways that other people might not. Just because of their individual personalities.”

“Of course, of course,” Wilford subscribes. “And there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that!”

A sharp, muffled pop called from somewhere in his chest. It’s followed by another. . .and another. . .and another, until a chorus of organic cracking and stretching and clicking threatens to drown out Wilford’s voice. 

Wilford doesn’t seem unbothered perse, but to his credit, he doesn’t let the cacophony stop him. 

“I suppose my instincts as a journalist drove that question,” Wilford muses. “I’ve found myself working with the whole ‘If it bleeds, it leads,’ shtick so many times. But only because. . .”

A violent twitch—the same type that so many people experience in their sleep, and the same type that would render those people unable to ever sleep again if they managed to see a recording of it—wracks his body.

“. . .it works. . .”

He barely had enough time to give you a wink before his eyes practically bulge from their sockets and roll into the back of his head, one after the other. 

“. . .so damn well!”

The skin of his cheeks neatly tears as his smile stretches wider than humanly possible, to the point where he’s quite literally grinning from ear-to-ear.

A strange outline appears in his shirt, trying to push out from underneath the fabric.

Except, it’s not underneath the fabric. 

You can do nothing but watch as the shape moves upward, causing Wilford’s neck to distend. His skin ripples in a way that reminds you of a sea krait swimming close to the surface without actually breaking it. As it gathers in Wilford’s head, the silhouette starts writhing. The movement is frantic. Desperate. Like an animal caught in some kind of trap.

All the while, Wilford’s new, eerie simper never falls away. 

Not even when his features are forced to swell and quiver, as though his skull is tearing itself apart.

Plltk-Sssquiiwrrrlrlct!

One half of Wilford’s face pulls away from the other, like a seam running down the center has burst. 

In a matter of seconds, the rift races down, splitting Wilford’s throat and torso open. 

Gravity attempts to drag the fleshy fractions even farther apart, but by some odd miracle, both Wilford’s afro and bowtie staunchly refuse to be divided like the rest of him. 

So, that means the two halves of Warfstache are hanging in place, only connected by thick, glistening strands of dark pink blood. 

You jerk away so aggressively that it’s a wonder your chair doesn’t tip over. Your stomach roils in a painful way, and a shuddering, terrified cry slithers up your throat and out between your teeth. You automatically fight to close your gaping mouth for fear that something much more solid than a scream might spill out next.

Surprisingly enough, nothing like that happens. 

But perhaps that’s because you haven’t seen the worst of this yet.

(Don’t hold your breath. You’re about to.)

As you stare and scream, you finally realize that. . .you can’t see through the gory chasm of Wilford. 

There’s something caught between the awful ratios of Wilford.

. . .No, not something.

Someone.

Someone who’s dressed in a tan military uniform, along with a pair of spectacles that boast dual loupes on that right lens. 

Someone whose screams make it clear that he speaks with an accent similar to Wilford’s.

Someone who you recognize. . .and, who seems to recognize you as well.

“H-Help me! PLEASE, HELP ME!” The Colonel wails, the fingers of his right hand curling around Wilford’s lower jaw, struggling for purpose. “I CAN’T GO BACK! DON’T MAKE ME GO BACK!”

You don’t respond. 

How the hell could you respond?

It’s one thing to watch a friend’s body spontaneously split itself apart like their skeleton is a bloodsoaked butterfly emerging from a horrific meat-chrysalis.

It’s another thing entirely to watch a friend’s former self shriek and thrash and beg via an unnecessarily brutal rebirthing process for no actual reason. 

“I-I’M SORRY! I’M SO SORRY!” The Colonel howls—if it wasn’t for his volume, the words would have leaked out in a choked sob. “I DIDN’T WANT TO DO IT! I DIDN’T MEAN TO DO IT! I SWEAR—!”

Wilford, meanwhile, is still grinning that sly, too-wide grin. He isn’t showing any signs of pain. You can’t tell whether or not he’d known that this was going to happen.

The Colonel manages to free his left arm from its organic confines. He frantically claws at the air, obviously trying to reach out to you, pleading for you to take his hand and pull him out.

The way your eyes are burning nearly rivals the searing ache in your chest.

You want to help him.

The voices in your head are demanding that you help him.

But you can’t. 

To put it simply, what’s done is done. Even Wilford’s bizarre powers are incapable of reversing what happened in that godforsaken manor all those years ago. 

The Colonel does not exist anymore.

You know that. . .

He knows that. . .

. . .And Wilford knows that.

Still grinning, Wilford raises his arms. With a loud criIiIiIck, they grow. In a manner of seconds, they boast a similar appearance to long, narrow tree branches. Each of his fingers follow suite—now it’s difficult to see them as anything other than talons. 

Wilford’s left hand is a blur as it snatches The Colonel’s wrist in a vice-like grip. His right hand reaches around to clamp down on The Colonel’s head.

Understandably, The Colonel isn’t having it. He writhes with twice as much panic as before. “DAMIEN! CELINE! WHERE ARE THEY?! I NEED TO FIND THEM!”

Wilford’s grin spasms. His knuckles turn white as he digs his nails into The Colonel’s scalp. When that doesn’t seem to work, he does what he does best: up the ante with no regard for anything. 

It’s hard to believe that you can hear the sound of glass splintering through The Colonel’s shouting, as Wilford’s index finger jabs through the left lens of his spectacles. 

In comparison, the squelching noise The Colonel’s eye makes as Wilford’s finger is driven into it is almost deafening. 

The Colonel buckles under the new, white-hot pain he must be feeling. His screams reach a truly heart-stopping octave as blood oozes down his cheek.

Instinct seems to take over, seeing as The Colonel’s arm finally retracts, as he attempts to apply pressure to his punctured eye.

There’s really no point, though. It’s not like he has time to stop the bleeding. 

To a chorus of snapping bones, Wilford shoves The Colonel down.

The Colonel’s torso as a whole seems to cave in.

All this time, Wilford’s hot-pink blood has been fountaining onto the floor—you’ve had to cross your legs on your chair to keep your shoes from getting drenched—but as you glance down, you notice that the puddle has stopped spreading. It stays still for a second or two. . .and then it starts rolling back in the direction it came. It glides up Wilford’s legs, and back into his chest, your eyes following it all the while. 

And now the blood seems to be more than just a liquid. It’s coiling around The Colonel like a nest of snakes, binding his arms, encircling his neck. It drags him deeper, obscuring his form until you can barely see his face.

“NO! NO!” The Colonel screams. He can’t struggle anymore, but you know better than anyone just how much of a bitch adrenaline can be. “I CAN’T—!”

It looks like the two halves of Warfstache have finally worked out their differences, because they meet one another with a sickening Ssshlift-pop. 

Wilford’s skin trembles. 

The line running down the center of his face, his throat, his chest. . .it just. . .seals itself shut. As though it’s a new type of magnetic clay. 

After a millisecond, that line itself disappears. It doesn’t even scar over. 

It’s just gone.

Just like that, a whole Wilford Warfstache is sitting before you once again. 

Like nothing even happened.

The next moment feels like several hours as you stare at Wilford, bracing yourself for something else to happen as hot, fat tears stream down your features. 

Wilford’s eyes roll back into place, milky white scleras finally being replaced by his warm, dark brown irises. 

That damn grin finally wavers as he blinks, shaking his head like he’s just woken up from a fever dream.

“Ah—I’m sorry,” Wilford announces, carefully kneading at his forehead. “I must’ve zoned out for a bit.” He glances at his wristwatch, raising an eyebrow. “Strange. . .the longer daydreams usually only happen on the thirteenth. Perhaps something else will be going on then? I know I had a lot of things lined up for the thirteenth in January, but that doesn’t necessarily mean I got around to them. . .unless I did, of course. In which case we might have a few problems.”

Wilford trails off as he finally notices that you’re still here. 

“. . .Are we going to have to reschedule again? No offense, but you’re looking a bit green around the gills.”

You collapse against the back of your chair, not even registering how the world spins. Not that registering is an option; darkness is quick to swallow up everything within eyesight.

(Really? You’re fainting now?)

Somehow, you still manage to hear Wilford’s voice, which seems to echo as he concludes, “I’ll take that as a yes,” with a melodramatic sigh.

@sammys-magical-au

#the thirteen days of goretober 2023 #goretober 2023 #my writing #my stories #wilford warfstache #wkm the colonel #markiplier #mark fischbach #tw blood #tw gore #tw body horror #tw trauma/flashbacks #tw fear/panic

[stirpicus]

Hello Eric! Thank you for all the advice and wisdom you share with your writing experiences. I’ve been lurking on those on a while because (well i know a major chunk is MC story mode), the characters are so well fleshed out and they stuck to me for so many years. No matter what I do I alwayyys go back to writing. Like i cannot just NOT do it. And lately, spending much time, I have been trying to unwrap my misbelief about “comparing myself to others”. I read so many different advice: don’t compare yourself, you can only control what you do, your journey is different, you can’t compare art, trends change etc. yet I just can’t seem to get it. Now I know why.

Personally I have enwrapped my own sense of worth with the stories I write. Like if this craft isn’t recognized the best despite all my efforts, I just don’t have that IT factor. And even though we’re not supposed to compare, is it bad for me to have ambition that I want to become the best? Also yes my journey is different, but how do I know if I’m headed there, what if I’m just gonna be stuck average? So all of these thoughts boiled down to this dark demon always telling me: why bother pouring your heart out when it won’t make a difference to the competition? My biggest desire is to write a story that inspires. But if I don’t have enough people to like it (aka not popular enough) then I did a bad job or what I have to offer wouldn’t suffice.

Tdlr; bigger numbers, bigger validation, significance=good writer.

How would you unravel this misconception?

I have a lot of problems with modern society and it’s affect on budding artists, writers, and other myriad creative ne’er-do-wells. Social media, in particular, is a noxious poison that we have been collectively huffing for the last decade and change, with its deceptively comforting dopamine hits.

You need to remember that people have undertaken creative endeavors since the dawn of time, and that for 99.99999% of that time, there has not been social media. There have not be likes, or reblogs, or retweets, or follower counts… and yet art and creative expression have persisted.

I’m not going to sit here and tell you “Aw I’m sure you’re great! Just keep plugging away and you’ll get there!” Because I don’t think you have a clear idea of what your definition of “there” is. You say you want to be “the best,” but that doesn’t mean anything. The “best” writer of all time might have been born at a time and in a place where we’ve never gotten to read any of her or his or their writing. Wanting to be “the best” is a foolish goal that will only lead to frustration and disappointment.

You need to take a look in the mirror and ask yourself: Do you actually love writing? Or do you love the idea of being praised for your writing because you seek validation and writing is something that people have told you you’re good at doing? “Success” can look like a thousand different things and change a thousand times in your lifetime. When I was 21, my vision of “success” was getting paid to write words. That was it. The first time I got to file my taxes as a “Writer” I felt like I had truly “made it.” All my writing that year was for weird social media startups and cartoons that never went anywhere, but people had nonetheless exchanged Money for my Words so I had achieved my goal of “Getting paid to write words.”

Each success brings with it new goals - from there it was “write something that gets made,” “have an original idea get produced,” “get to write for a medium I’ve never written for before,” “write something that wins an award,” But along the way, I tried to make each of these goals attainable and tried not to despair when some take longer than others. I have some goals that I may never accomplish, and some that I haven’t even set for myself yet.

This is my own journey, and yours will look different. But I hope whatever shape it takes, you will divorce yourself from caring about something as stupid as follower counts or number of likes or trying to be “the best.” Because good lord what a silly amount of pressure to put on yourself.

At the end of the day the one reader that will always read your stuff… is you. So don’t worry about whether people will like what you’re writing - just make sure it’s something that you like to read and enjoy writing. Because if you keep doing that and keep the social media demons outta your brain box, then you can focus on figuring out what you REALLY want out of writing… because I bet it’s something way achievable than “being the best.”

[scuderiahoney]

https://www.tumblr.com/scuderiahoney/748213781119877120/as-a-long-time-fan-of-shane-ryan-since-the

I find this discussion kinda hypocritical coming from anyone in the fanfic community. A community that in the last several years has continuously put more and more content behind paywalls like Patreon for a similar amount, of commissions. When the entire point of fanfic has always been about a free and inclusive community. And when those of us that even have the nerve to say hey, why are we paying for fics this doesn’t seem right. Were told to shut up and support artists or don’t bother commenting. At least what Shane/Ryan are doing is an original idea, and has a business to support. That’s their main source of income. I’d be more likely to pay for their content than fanfic. So if you view what Ryan and Shane are doing as a money grab, you have to extend that same energy to authors who are making money off of fanfic

hmmmmmm okay! i can sort of see where you’re coming from with this. here’s where i disagree.

first: they ARE making money already. they make money off of YouTube ads and sponsor deals and any of the other ways YouTubers have been making money for years. fanfic can’t be monetized in that way- we don’t get money from ads on tumblr, and god knows there’s no ads on ao3. you could maybe say the money they make on youtube isn’t enough, or that they’re trying to grow the company, except that they stated in their own video that they’ve hired 25 people as the company grew. and from their personal instagrams and the things they talk about doing, money doesn’t seem to be a struggle for them. who knows, maybe it is- i’m unaware of their personal lives. but THAT’S where i’m coming from when i call it a money grab.

second: when we talk about fanfic writers putting things behind paywalls, at least from what I’ve seen, it’s almost never all of their content! it’s, as you said, things like commissions, which are reserved for when someone has a specific request for a specific story. as a writer, requests are HARD! others might reserve specific content for things like a patreon. which is something i’m pretty sure watcher was already doing?? & i support that method whole heartedly. i think it’s a great model. i’ll admit that a lot of my feelings on it earlier were based on the statement that they would be pulling all of their old content from YouTube, which they have since retracted (but it WAS in the original variety article). that part felt like a huge money grab to me. content that we have watched for years and supported (& in the case of shows like too many spirits, been a part of) was set to be put behind a paywall when it wasn’t originally. it rubbed me the wrong way.

third: this is just my opinion on the situation! you’re entitled to yours too! but i’m sort of unsure why you’re bringing it to me specifically- I’ve never had a patreon/ko-fi or anything like that. i fully support authors who do! fanfic can take some serious work & some people out here create wonderful masterpieces & i cannot blame them for asking to be compensated for it. the recent conversation i’ve seen around patreon etc for fic has come out of having works repeatedly stolen and reposted, which is NEVER okay. also! there’s a cost of living crisis. things are tough for a lot of people right now. we are making ends meet however we can. the guys at watcher, frankly, don’t seem to have that issue.

i’m finding myself really frustrated by the sentence “at least what Shane/ryan are doing is an original idea”- maybe i’m reading too much into the tone here, it’s hard to tell over the internet. but that feels a little rude to fic writers, honestly. there is plenty of fanfic out there that consists of original ideas, and this feels like a bit of a slap in the face to include here.

idk. i’m frustrated by this ask bc i try very hard to create a inclusive place here on tumblr, and i see a TON of my fellow creators on here doing the same. i can understand that we have different opinions on this, but i hope you can understand where i’m coming from too when i say parts of this ask felt unnecessarily mean spirited towards fic writers. i really have loved the content watcher has put out- and i feel i’m a bit of an outlier, here, when i say this goes for all three of the guys: Ryan, Shane, and Steven. but right now i’m feeling not thrilled about the whole thing.

#box box #anon #non f1 #eat the rich or whatever tbh #sorry this got long

[littlerosette]

Hello! I'm new here. I just wanted to say it's absurd the amount of times I've read & reread your fics. All of them. I wasn't even that much into Eremika fanfic before reading yours. You're a truly talented writer and more often than not I blinked as I was reading, thinking to myself that this is published-book level quality. If one day you decide to go this route, please tell us here so that I can follow you there too

If it's not bothering, I'd like to ask you. This is something I've always thought about since the very furst time I read you are the knife i turn inside myself so long ago. At the end, Eren says he wants eight kids, and they playfully banter until the number is down to four. How many do they end up having?? I need to know, and I have a feeling it might very well be eight, my headcanon is that Eren and Mikasa will always have a bunch of kids if possible

you’re the best. you’re the absolute best. thank you so much for your kind words. i generally think that i’m a pretty good writer, but i have a tendency to be very hard on myself as well, so that sense of self-satisfaction can get lost a lot in the negativity. i do plan to write a book one day! i have a few original ideas i invite anyone to ask me about, but a genuine life goal of mine is to write my own story. i will definitely let my followers know if/when that happens!!

as for witch-hunter eremika, i do honestly see them having four kids. pregnancy is A LOT of stress on the body and can be very painful (and fatal) so i don’t see them trying their luck too much. however, i don’t think they’d just settle for three either. four is the perfect amount for them, and they have all girls that are perfect little mikasa clones. WITH her powers, too. it’s good for eren’s character development.

thank you for the wonderful message!!!!❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

#asks #witch-hunter

[vayalda]

TV-Show Rec – How I Met Your Mother

I know that this is an older show, but I’ve only just come around to binge-watch it and need to rave about it for a minute or two because this has easily become my second-favourite show after Game of Thrones (which will always remain number one because of Braime) and I haven’t been this excited about a show/movie/book in the last two years…

For the first few episodes, I wasn’t even sure I’d like HIMYM because sitcoms aren’t usually my thing and the constant audience laughter annoyed me soooo much. But since I wanted to watch something light and funny during my recovery, I pulled through and eventually managed to blank out the laughter and focus on the story and characters instead. And I’m glad I did for one reason and one reason only: Barney Stinson, who’s 100% awesome and legen – wait for it – dary! LEGENDARY!

Plus, Neil Patrick Harris is a treasure! That man can act and sing and dance and do it all at once and I’m in absolute awe of his talent. He was the heart and soul of the show and carried HYMYM. And did I already mention that this man can sing? There are still so many of his songs I haven’t heard yet, but these are a few gems I simply have to share (in no particular order):

This Tony Awards Opening

His Disney Christmas Parade Opening

The “Dream On” performance from Glee

His Broadway Musical Riff-Off against James Corden, which includes snippets of his musicals “Company” and “Hedwig and the Angry Inch”

“The Origin of Love”, which is my favourite song from Hedwig

The brilliant “Stand by me” performance from HIMYM (special thanks to Cobie Smulders who was all of us in that moment)

And, of course, the legen – wait for it and I hope you aren’t lactose-intolerant because the second part of the word is – dairy “Nothing Suits Me Like A Suit” by Barney Stinson

And those are just the tip of the iceberg…

Seriously, I imagine NPH’s creation going somewhat like this:

God: How much talent do you want to have?

NPH: Yes! What up?

That being said, if you belong to the few people who haven’t watched this show yet, I have two warnings for you…

First: You’ll never be able to hear the song “I’m gonna be (500 Miles)” by The Proclaimers again without slowly sinking to your knees, screaming NOOOOOOOO at the top of your lungs and starting to weep because it will be stuck in your head for days. DAYS, I tell you!

Second: The HIMYM ending is absolute crap and I’m so pissed at it. This is GoT all over again (or rather, I now know where D&D got their idea from since HIMYM is the older show). Seriously though, is there some secret prize for the producers/writers who manage to make the best shows and character arcs only to screw them over in the last episodes??

In any case, for anyone who hasn’t watched the show yet, here’s a simple four-step guide:

1. Watch every episode including Season 9, Episode 22 (you could leave out the rhyming one cause that one was boring and had no point imo)

2. Do NOT watch Season 9, Episode 23 and 24 unless you want to get “I want to punch a hole in the wall-angry”

3. Don’t bother with the alternative ending either cause that isn’t much better than the original

4. You’re welcome!

PS: I’m not gonna write HIMYM fics but I might have to include a small Barney Stinson tribute in one of my future Braime fics because I’ve had an idea on how to easily fix his stupid ending with a guest appearance.

#himym #barney stinson #nph

[butter--peanut]

“Add a Person”(E, 3713 words)

Happy Happy 30th to my lovely Nisi @wind-becomes-lightning! I am so thankful to have met you ~9 months ago (wow, somehow it feels much longer!). You are one of the kindest and most supportive people I know — and I think even if people don’t know you personally, everyone can see that today so clearly, when you decided to spend your birthday gifting others with gorgeous fics every single hour! Your productivity is remarkable, you are creative and an awesome writer and have OCs I’m in love with. You quickly became one of my closest friends and it’s been a joy to chat with you and nerd out with you and simp with you and at last to meet you!! I can’t wait to celebrate your birthday in person later today, but for now I hope you like this little gift to show how much you mean to me <3

Title: “Add a Person”

Pairings: Yamato/Sora, Kakashi/Sayuri, Yamato/Kakashi, and a little bit of Sayuri/Sora and Sora/Kakashi (I hope these last two are okay Nisi, I didn’t want to spoil the surprise to ask!!)

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3713

Nisi’s OCs included in this story are Sora and Sayuri (links to their character bios). This fic is a sequel to Nisi’s story Ivy. Ivy is a modern day AU where Sora is a sex worker who goes by the codename Ivy and Yamato hires her. I was super intrigued by a few details Nisi included in the original fic (Yamato having kissed before but not who he kissed; the ANBU tattoo that Yamato got “with friends as a symbol that connected with our time together”; the way that Sora mentioned Yamato could always add another person to the app) so I spun those details around into this story.

On Wednesday, after Yamato had woken up and watered his plants and stretched in front of the slowly rising sun, then finally sat down on his couch with a coffee and opened the app for the escort service, he clicked through to select Ivy as he normally did, and then saw the little button that said, add another person. 

He stared at it, and then he thought, why not.

Hey Senpai, Yamato texted Kakashi. Drink after work today? I have a proposition for you.

Yamato and Ivy had been seeing each other every Thursday for the past six months. 

Yamato booked three-hour meetings now, uncaring of the expense because it meant he had more time to talk to Ivy after they’d had sex. They would lie together, sometimes her in his arms and others his in hers, and he would chat about whatever came to mind: questions about sex that she happily answered, his day, his friends, his plans for the future. 

Oh, he wasn’t fooling himself. He knew that this wasn’t a relationship, and that all their interactions were transactions. But it was nice to pretend, for a few hours in a day, that he did have a girlfriend, and Ivy was happy to indulge him.

Amazingly, Ivy had started to open up a little more about her own personal life. Without going into too many details, she’d shared that she grew up in a well-respected family with a surname he’d probably heard of, in a large house in a prosperous suburb of inner Tokyo. That her job here was part-time, and that she was training for a different profession in her spare hours. That she liked her work for the most part. That the nicest part was helping other people to feel good.

On their last meeting, Ivy had been gently teasing Yamato about his lack of experience, and he had been smiling sheepishly, not at all bothered, agreeing, yes, you’re the only person I’ve had sex with. Yes, you’re the only person who has touched my cock. Yes, you’re the only person I’ve given head to.  

“Am I the only woman you kissed?” Ivy asked him finally, and here, now, he could counter this, grinning and raising up a hand. 

“Yes,” he said. “But not the first person I’ve kissed.”

Her eyes flared with interest, and then he found himself explaining his friendship with Kakashi.

They’d met in Black Ops when Yamato was a fresh-faced eighteen-year-old, and spent the next four years together, taking dangerous high-stakes missions across many different countries. (Of course, Yamato couldn’t tell Ivy the details; he left it at we were in the army together.) Yamato had been assigned to Team Seven, and he’d got to watch the flawless teamwork of Kakashi, Rin, and Obito, then wonders of wonders, contribute to that teamwork; feel like he was a truly appreciated part of their team. Kakashi had been his team leader, his Senpai, his guide, and at one notable point, the person who’d saved his life. 

“I had a crush on him,” Yamato admitted, flushing. “He’s incredible, Ivy. And I think he liked me too. But, well, he was in love with a different teammate. And then that teammate died.”

He sighed into the bedsheets, unhappy memories resurfacing.

“I’m sorry,” Ivy said gently, touching his shoulder.

“It’s okay,” Yamato reassured her. “It was a long time ago now. But — before all of that, there was a night we were all drunk at a bar together.” He smiled a little at the memory. “Eventually it was just me and Kakashi left, and we were talking about all of Senpai’s experience with sex — he had a bit of an, er, reputation — and I mentioned that I’d never kissed anyone before, and Senpai said, well, want to change that? And then we kissed. Nothing else. I wasn’t ready for anything else then, and he understood.”

“He sounds like a very kind person.”

Yamato snorted. 

“Well, yes. But he’s also a bastard. Especially now.”

“You still see him?”

“Every day,” he said, unable to stop the fond smile. “We work together now. The government got Rin, Kakashi and I all jobs.” He hesitated, then said, “They offered him a management role.” Coordinating the entire black ops contingent and strategy for deployment. “But he said no. Wanted a quiet life after everything that had happened. Now mostly I see him wasting company time playing with this pug he brings into the office or reading silly porn novels that he likes.”

Ivy looked considering. 

“And you’ve never thought of anything more with him? Anything more than kissing?”

He grinned at her. “Are you asking if I’d like to have a threesome with you and one of my friends, Ivy?” 

She blinked, surprised, then laughed softly. “No! I just know that you’re curious to try new things, Yamato. That’s one of the parts I really like about you. I want to support you with your exploration of yourself.”

Ah, Ivy was so supportive and sweet and eager to help him. That, he was sure, wasn’t just part of her professional act. Just one more reason he liked her so much.

“I wouldn’t want to see him without you,” Yamato said, certain, and Ivy’s gaze softened further as she looked over him. 

Then there was a spark of playfulness.

“Well. You know what I said on our first meeting. You can add a person in the app.”

---

Kakashi wasn’t hard to convince. He’d always had a very low threshold in agreeing to sex, and when Yamato phrased it as a way of self-exploration he said, “I’m all for my cute Kohai’s self-development. Let’s try it.” He took a sip of his beer, then added, “And I’ve never been to an escort service. I’m curious to see what it’s like.”

Despite knowing Kakashi’s general comfort with sex, Yamato really hadn’t expected it would be quite this easy to get him into bed. His eighteen-year-old self’s heart would have been beating clear out of his chest with the thrill.  

(Maybe that itself was why Kakashi agreed so readily: that Yamato’s heart wasn’t beating that way anymore. Kakashi must have known Yamato’s crush had lessened a lot since those initial days — and he knew how much Yamato talked about his friend Ivy).

The morning of, Ivy texted him. She had his direct number, now, because it was so much easier to coordinate unexpected delays or cancellations than on the app. (He was sure that was why she had given him her number. The extra conversation that they engaged in was just a lovely side-effect.)

I have a proposition for you :) Ivy wrote. My friend started working here a few weeks ago. She needs experience with larger group bookings. And I thought, since you are inviting your friend, maybe I could invite mine? From what you said, your friend could be open to this? And you are by far my nicest client. It would be the best introduction for her. No extra charge. :D

Her nicest client!

But Yamato had a reputation for being nice. Many people had called him nice. This surely didn’t mean anything.

Of course, he texted back. As long as Ivy was there too, this sounded like an exciting experience.

The next evening, Yamato went to the regular love hotel that he and Ivy visited. He arrived right on time, even though he assumed Kakashi would be at least half an hour late, because it gave him the opportunity to shower with Ivy, pressing her up against the glass, peppering the vine-patterns on her skin with kisses. Foreplay only; getting ready for the main course.

When they were showered and cuddling up together on the bed, each wearing half-opened fluffy red robes, Ivy said, “I know you said your friend would be late, but it’s strange that mine hasn’t arrived yet.”

Then the door slammed open, and a woman with a long black coat, heeled boots and black hair in a ponytail pointed behind her and said, “Sora, please tell me this stalker isn’t the client for tonight!”

“Er.” Kakashi walked through and waved. “Yo, Tenzo. There seems to have been some confusion.”

Oh, no. Kakashi was going to be the end of him.

Wait. The woman had called Ivy—

“Sora?” Yamato said, turning to Ivy, and Ivy was looking at the woman with the same incredulous exhaustion that Tenzo currently felt for Kakashi.

---

Yamato suggested tea, because that tended to calm tensions. They had tea, and Yamato heard the story.

On the way to the love hotel, Kakashi had walked out of the subway station, head firmly in his book — he’d purchased a new volume of Icha Icha just that morning, and wouldn’t rest until he’d finished it.

It was snowing today, and he had been walking up to the block of the hotel when he drifted to the edge of the street, aiming to avoid a new thick clump of snow piling up the street.

Then a taxi’s door was thrust open, and Kakashi tripped clean over the door, face-planting into the snow below.

“Senpai!” Tenzo said now, laughing. “What happened to your reflexes?”

“I’d reached a really good part,” Kakashi explained with a sigh.

A woman had stepped out of the taxi, and Kakashi had put out a hand and started to say, “Don’t worry about it,” expecting that she was about to apologise profusely.

“Why don’t you look where you’re going!” she said instead.

“Um.” Kakashi stared at her. “I was reading…”

Oh no. Where was Icha Icha Spa Day? It had dropped out of his hands when he fell.

The patch where it had fallen was outside of the was dark. He could barely see a thing.

He dropped down onto his knees, tapping the piled snow.

“Oh, come on,” said the woman. “Don’t tell me you’re going to pretend you were injured from that. I don’t have any money and I’m definitely not compensating you for a non-existent injury—” 

“It’s my Icha Icha.” 

“Your what? That doesn’t sound like any body part I’ve heard of.” 

“No, not my — my book. I’ve lost my book.”

The woman sighed in annoyance, then dropped down next to him, letting the bottom of her black coat drip into the slushy snow. 

“Urgh,” she said, starting to push her bare fingers through the snow. “Make me feel bad by stepping in front of my door and then freeze my fingers off, why don’t you.”

“You don’t have to help me.”

“Oh, no, you’ve guilt tripped me now; clearly I do. Though maybe this is all just some sick ploy to give a poor random passer-by hypothermia — oh, hey!” Her voice rose in triumph, and she pulled up the snow-covered, sodden Icha Icha Spa Day from the ground. “Here you are. Your,” she stared at the cover, “your porn…”

She handed him the book.

“What’s your name?” Kakashi asked.

She stared at him suspiciously. “Sayuri. Why?”

“Sayuri,” Kakashi said, “thank you for finding my book. And,” he gave her a hurt puppy look, “thank you for also ruining it.”

Then he hopped up and made his way back through the streets, opening up the book, wincing at how damp it was. He could barely read the text anymore. He’d have to purchase another copy tomorrow.

He realised Sayuri was following him.

“What?” she said defensively, when he turned back to her. 

“Are you looking for another way to trip me up?”

“Oh, come on! I was going this way already.”

As if to prove it, she hurried passed him, and then Kakashi was following her. Passing sniping comments back and forth as they continued to walk in the same direction.

All the way to the love hotel, and then to the same floor, and then to the same room.

---

Kakashi and Sayuri hadn’t stopped bickering the entire time. Yamato had rarely seen someone who affected him as much as she did. The only person Yamato had seen Kakashi share these snipes back and forth with was, well, Obito.

It was the strangest experience Yamato had ever had. They’d set out to have something like a foursome and now the two extra guests were just insulting each-other. Looking at Ivy — should he think of her as Sora in his head now? She’d admitted that was her name, but it hadn’t been something she offered him, so it felt wrong — she seemed to feel the same. 

Feeling a bit helpless, Yamato said, “Well, maybe we should we just end this idea—” 

“No,” said Kakashi and Sayuri, almost at the same time.

A pause.

“He’s apparently such a Casanova,” Sayuri said defensively. “I want to see if that’s all talk.”

---

Kakashi and Sayuri needed to shower, and while they did that Yamato and Ivy sat cuddling on the bed.

“Kakashi called you Tenzo,” Sora said “Is that..?”

“That was my name,” he explained. “But not anymore. I changed it when I left the army. But people who knew me back then, I’m fine if they call me Tenzo. It’s a memories thing.” He smiled at her, drawing closer. “Yamato is my name now.” He paused. “But your name is Sora? Would your prefer I keep—” 

“You can call me Sora,” she said, decided. “I’ve wanted to tell you for a while. It was just — not professional.” She sighed. “Maybe I should thank Sayuri for giving up her name and mine and breaking about ten rules in half an hour.” 

A flicker of excited desire drifted through him at the words. Her name — her real name! — on his lips. Sora could see that in his gaze and her expression turned playful. She pulled him back onto the bed and fully on top of her, her robe opening so that Yamato’s naked body was flush against hers, just their robes flaring out on either side. They kissed, familiar and comforting, and Sora started to run her hand down Yamato’s chest.

“Do you think they’ll kill each-other arguing about who takes the first shower?” Sora asked softly. 

“I would say no, but who knows. Kakashi is normally very laid back. But he was acting differently around her than I’m used to…” 

There was a crash and a thump in the bathroom.

Yamato groaned and jumped up. “We leave them alone for one minute…” 

He strode to the bathroom. “Senpai! What are you—?” 

He had to trail off, when standing in the doorway looking through at what was inside.

The crash had been from the metal soap holder, previously hooked over the edge of the shower, now on its side on the floor outside the shower, all the soaps and creams also scattered there. The shower door was fully open, and mist unfurled through the door, water spray hitting the floor and bathmat beyond. Inside were Kakashi and Sayuri. Kakashi had Sayuri pressed against the shower wall, kissing her neck, one arm wrapped around her waist and the other pressing against the tiles behind her head. Her eyes were shut tight in an almost-angry desperation, and her fingers scrunched his wet hair tightly.

Yamato started to blush. He knew that watching the interactions of another couple was part of what he’d signed up for, but somehow being here, watching their intimacy firsthand, affected him even more than he’d expected.

“How are you feeling on the Casanova scale?” Kakashi asked Sayuri playfully.

“U-unfair experimental conditions,” said Sayuri. “It’s a shower. It’s naturally a sexual place!”

Kakashi looked up and stared at Yamato, and it was the sort of gaze that made his hair stand on end. Yamato now knew something of how Sayuri must be feeling. “Tenzo. Want to join?” 

“It’s not really big enough, Senpai,” Yamato said, stepping forward despite himself.

“Fair enough.” Kakashi kissed Sayuri’s lips, then said, “Shall we go and say hello to the others?” 

Sayuri turned the taps off, and now without the water raining down it was clear to see the flush of arousal on her face, eyes twisting from Kakashi to take in Sora and Yamato with a smile.

---

The kiss reminded Yamato of the last time, except that now Kakashi was entirely naked, body dripping from the shower, flush against Yamato, letting him feel all the muscles and — yes, his cock, jutting against Yamato’s own.

Perhaps a touch different, then.

He groaned helplessly, twitching closer to try and bring his body even further against Kakashi’s. Kakashi made a deep, satisfied sound on hearing him, sliding a hand down to cup Yamato’s ass. 

Yamato felt a body press behind him now, and he could tell immediately from the line of her curves that it was Sora. She leaned against his back and said, “Time to make you a sandwich,” and it was the cutest way of describing this ridiculously hot action that he couldn’t help his giggle.

“How about a burger double?” Sayuri responded, copying Sora’s lead but against Kakashi. “You two boys are the meat, and the two bun halves kiss?”

Kakashi snorted against Yamato’s lips. “That’s the least sexual analogy I’ve ever—” 

“Quiet,” said Sayuri. “Watch.”

She leaned forward past Kakashi, and Sora twisted past Yamato, and their lips met one another. They were both grinning while they kissed, Sayuri giggling a little. Yamato wondered if this was the first time these friends had done this together.

“You feel so soft,” Sayuri commented halfway through. “No stubble is heaven. I need to kiss more girls.”

“Is this like Icha Icha, Senpai?” Yamato asked.

“It might be better,” Kakashi admitted.

Sora and Sayuri broke the kiss, and then Sora turned to them. “Could you share him a little?” she asked Kakashi.

“Of course.” Kakashi shifted around the side of Yamato so that Kakashi’s chest was flush against Yamato’s back. “What did you have in mind?”

---

Kakashi ran his hands down Yamato’s chest, tweaking and twisting his nipples and following the line of his hips, while Sora rested comfortably on her knees, head tilted forward, tasting Yamato. She knew him so well by this point; understood exactly how to shift the pressure to make him moan, use the lightest touch of her hand like a skilled painter. Kakashi watched Sora’s approach and matched her speed and pressure with his fingers across Yamato’s body. Feeling both of them at once was a heady rush that made the blood pump through his veins and even quicker down his body. 

Sayuri was watching at first, but soon she slid behind Kakashi and grasped Kakashi’s cock, gently stroking it. Yamato could feel Kakashi’s breathing increase, his body stiffening, and the groan he let out, loud against Yamato’s ear.

It was too much, feeling his own arousal and Kakashi’s arousal and Sora’s care.

“I’m going to…”

Sora nodded, smiling up at him, and she was so beautiful, he loved everything about her, he couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have met her—

He came, gasping, with Kakashi hugging him tight from behind and Sora swallowing him down.

---

“Thank you for taking care of my kohai,” Kakashi said to Sora, when Yamato had taken some moments to recover and Sora and come up to standing. “May I taste him from you?”

Oh, boy.

---

The kiss between Sora and Kakashi was almost chaste, slow and polite and explorative, and yet still, somehow…

“This is like the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

It was Sayuri, standing next to Yamato, eyes locked on Kakashi and Sora.

“I know what you mean,” Yamato admitted. “When you like both of them, and then see them together…”

She furrowed her brow. “I don’t like — urgh. Okay. Maybe I do.” She sighed. “Sora should have never offered me this job. I’m terrible at staying professional.”

“Honestly?” Yamato said. “I’m glad it turned out this way. Thank you.”

She smiled at him, and then said, “You’re all she talks about, you know. I might be unprofessional on the job, but damn, she wants to be too.”

Kakashi and Sora had paused their and were now watching Yamato and Sayuri, both with clear desire in their eyes.

“Let’s take this to the bedroom?” Sora suggested.

---

At one point Sora’s phone alarm rang to end the session. 

Sora stepped to her phone, clicked off the alarm, and then put her phone in the drawer. She turned back, meeting their gazes in challenge, making no move to pick up her clothes, and Yamato felt the strongest wash of joy and excitement at the knowledge that this wasn’t going to end any time soon.

Given that Kakashi was pressed deep inside him, sweat slicked, shuddering with the force of holding back from spilling over, it would have been an awkward moment to stop in any case.

---

Yamato woke up with Sora in his arms, warm and peaceful, his body aching pleasurably.

Kakashi and Sayuri were asleep next to them. Kakashi was lying on his back and Sayuri was on her side, head was in his lap, hair streaming out across his chest, long-ago pulled out of its ponytail. Kakashi was awake. His eyes were half-lidded, watching Sayuri, expression imperceptible.

“Kakashi,” Yamato whispered, and Kakashi turned his gaze to Yamato. 

“Morning, Tenzo,” he said with a small smile. “I have to say, if this is how evenings at escort services normally proceed, I’ll be booking them more often.”

Yamato snorted. He looked down at Sora, still feeling awestruck that he could use her real name now, and brushed some hair out of her face. Her nose scrunched up adorably.

“You won’t get this at any other escort service, Senpai. This was an, er, unique experience. Even for me with Sora.”

Learning her name. Meeting her friend, and Yamato’s friend meeting her. Going past the allotted time, all through the night in fact. Waking up in each-others’ arms.

This was messy, now, the line between professional and — whatever else they were, or could be.

But this too would be a new experience, and after so many years fighting pointless wars, Yamato wanted to take everything good that life had to offer. He’d be honest with her when they had a moment alone, tell her how he felt about her. And then see just what the future would bring. 

#bp shortfic #love you nisi <333333333 #I'm sorry if this feels ooc I did my best but always nervous about writing others' ocs!

[whileyoureinschoolidothisallday]

I posted 12,758 times in 2022

That's 7,113 more posts than 2021!

668 posts created (5%)

12,090 posts reblogged (95%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@atlasllm

@sarah-dipitous

@silverjirachi

@do-rei-mi

@renthony

I tagged 6,851 of my posts in 2022

Only 46% of my posts had no tags

#the evil one - 661 posts

#x-men but anime - 488 posts

#pretty pictures - 238 posts

#real life with risa - 213 posts

#dabi - 178 posts

#touya todoroki - 167 posts

#the furry scare of 2005 - 167 posts

#pretty words - 165 posts

#pretty art - 138 posts

#bible fanfiction - 131 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#but how will y'all know if i mean blorbo from my stories i.e the ones i actually write or blorbo from my stories i.e the shit i consume like

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

I actually REALLY dislike art that portrays dabi as a predatory person keeping touya suppressed or trapped or controlling him somehow. Like an afo and shiggy situation.

Dabi is a protector persona.

He cares about Touya more than anything else. His literal only purpose is to get vengeance FOR Touya. He’s his only reason for existing, the only thing his eyes are watching.

He’s literally the only adult that EVER cared that much about him. So like seeing depictions of him like hurting touya or like manipulating him in some way bother the fuck out of me and I get that it’s probably supposed to be more like self-hatred focused, like dabi hates his younger self for being fragile and weak and now he’s in charge or whatever but just....no thank you.

Nobody loves Touya more than Dabi

250 notes - Posted October 13, 2022

#4

Me on my way to bust ume and gyutaro out of hell:

258 notes - Posted February 13, 2022

#3

ALRIGHT SO LET ME GET BACK TO THIS

I am a “professional” writer. I have a BFA in Creative Writing. I have been in the stupid fucking query trenches and suffering through the constant drama and mindless takes of YA twitter for the last year.

It is REQUIRED for you to have a personality on your professional writing twitter.

Many, many publishing houses and agents ask for your twitter handle and/or relevant sms to see what kind of following you have and use that to decide if you’re marketable or not

If you want friends--which you do, because you need to network and also have fucking support or you will lose your mind--you cannot just post your book links and content and leave. You have to engage with the community because why else would the community engage with you? Also people want to KNOW who you are before they interact with you that’s how friendship works!!!!! (also publishing is very cliquey)

It’s the same right here on tumblr, in the Writeblr community, which I also have a sideblog for!!!!! If you want to make friends you have to follow other blogs and play ask games and participate in events because whether you like or not YOU are the most important part of whatever content you’re sharing and people need to know you exist before they give a shit about you’re content!!!!

SO

MY POINT

YOU’RE TELLING ME YOU WANT FANFIC WRITERS, WHO ARE USUALLY WRITING OUT OF PASSION AND CASUAL ENJOYMENT, TO BE HELD TO HIGHER STANDARDS THAN THOSE WHO ARE TRYING TO MAKE IT THEIR CAREERS?????????

YOU’RE SAYING YOU DO NOT THINK THEY DESERVE TO BE A PART OF THEIR COMMUNITIES, BUT JUST ‘FOCUS ON THE CONTENT’ WHEN ORIGINAL WRITING/PROFESSIONAL WRITERS DON’T EVEN DO THAT??????????

Congratulations you are nothing but a fucking ignorant, entitled asshole

265 notes - Posted August 4, 2022

#2

literally shoto to dabi in the new panel:

and I love that for him 

1,144 notes - Posted April 21, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

I feel moved to do this so I’m gonna

I can only speak for the US, but if you think covid isn’t a big deal anymore you are being lied to. on multiple levels.

First and most important, covid is airborne. It was always airborne. This is a well-established fact in the medical community and has been for awhile. What this means is that, in indoor spaces and crowded outdoor spaces, it is chilling in the air and you are inhaling it with every breath you take. The more virus you inhale, the sicker you will be. The gov knows it, the cdc knows it, everyone knows it. Nobody wants to say this to avoid accountability that they fucked up the initial response with a focus on droplets, and they don’t want “panic”. Plus it will obviously cost them more.

herd immunity was never, and is not going to be, a thing with this virus

You can and will get reinfected. And with every infection, you’re at higher risk of severe disease and organ damage, including your brain.

Two very large studies on Long Covid have recently come out, and in summary, it is very real and you don’t want this shit. It’s estimated that 1 in 5 infected people will get it and there is no cure yet. Even if we find one, organ and brain damage is not reversible.

covid is causing an increase in brain disorders

this is an LA emergency room today as of August 27 2022 It’s like this all over as you can see in the comments.

children are at significantly higher risk for covid complications

masking doesn’t hurt kids’ speech development

earloop masks don’t do shit to protect you at this point and this is well established in the medical community. It’s N95 or higher or you have very little protection. Any mask is better than no mask. If you have absolutely no choice but to use ear looped masks, a mask brace helps significantly

you can get a p100, a mask with even higher filtration than n95, on amazon for $30. This is the one I bought. Here are more p100 and elastomeric masks you can buy safely

here is an indepth video on how to perform a DIY fit test at home using instructions from the US Army. You should be doing this with every mask you have (if you’re curious as to why federal mask mandates were never enforced or even discussed, it’s because federal law mandates that companies have to fit test every employee if masks are required for airborne protection and they can’t/don’t want to figure out how to work around this for the general public. You need to fit test for a mask to work accurately.)

one of the key components to actually returning life to normal for everyone, including the disabled, is air filtration. The Corsi-Rosenthal Box is a cheap, open source air filter that’s on par with more expensive filtration systems. At it’s best, it reduces 80% of the covid inhalation dose, which is the equivalent of a group of people all wearing decent quality, fitting masks. This not only helps against covid, but also reduces exposure to other respiratory illnesses and even allergies! People all over the country are making these and donating them to schools, businesses, people in need, etc. Here’s a video on how to make one yourself and I highly recommend you do if you can. If you don’t like masks for whatever reason, this is how we get rid of them

here is an awesome thread about traveling during covid

If you’d like reviews on various types of masks and if they pass fit tests, this is the guy you wanna follow

if you’re looking for graphs and charts and statistics, you wanna follow this account

if you wanna know more about air filtration, literally everyone in the medical community worth their salt is constantly screaming about it on twitter, but I recommend following this guy

and if you want accurate information about covid, then you should follow one of the first whistleblowers for the disease. He’s been right about everything so far, and he’s also posting accurately about monkeypox

NOW HOW ABOUT A FEW GOOD THINGS??????

a very promising prophylactic for covid, called Evusheld, exists and has been authorized for emergency use in the US. If you are immunocompromised, over the age of 12, and 88+ pounds, please harass your GPD and pharmacy to give it to you!!!! It is actively being suppressed and the us gov isn’t buying supply, so most medical professionals don’t know it exists and will fight you about it. Even if you aren’t in the US, it’s available in over 100 countries!!!!!

Novavax is a new and very promising vaccine that would be effective for emerging variants, and it’s working better than the current vaccines to prevent infection. But, again, the US is refusing to buy supply and the FDA is dragging their feet because the current administration is pfizer’s bitch :)

also, in general, I know it sounds scary that covid is airborne, but we have a lot of airborne diseases, and we know how to fight them. They aren’t magic. We can and do manage them all the time. It’s just that for some reason (capitalism), we’ve decided not to this time.

but the information is still available. We don’t have to lie down and let this thing destroy our communities and isolate our disabled and vulnerable neighbors. We have the ability, at any time, to end this shit for real and make our local communities safer, with or without the gov’s help.

we just have to do it.

3,781 notes - Posted August 27, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

AYYYYYYYYYYY I am so shocked that my covid post beat my Todoroki meme cause I remember when I made that my notes were in SHAMBLES lmfao.

But I'm also very thankful that it is my top post because it proves my point that the majority of people DO still care about public health and want to protect themselves and others when they're given the choice to do so. Being disabled sucks right now, but it sucks less knowing that we still have more allies and potential allies than we think. Thanks for giving me some much needed hope ^_^

Here's hoping next year I get to make less of these and even MORE fandom posts!!!!!!!!!!

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #I was tagged by A LOT of people to do this #but I'm tagging whoever else wants too!!!!!! #Real life with Risa

[lily-orchard-gossip-blog]

Two Loving Mothers Part 3

I’m going to be switching gears here, and just give a general overview of the story. Don't worry, I'll still break down the bits that are worth mentioning. This is mostly because at the rate I was going, it would have been faster to just rewrite the whole thing, and frankly, if Lily can’t be bothered to edit her fic, why should I?

So without further ado, let’s dive in.

Rey picks up her daughter and then shrouds her in the dark side of the force, just like Aliana did for her three years ago. (We are ignoring the fact that this isn’t how the dark side works. Remember, Lily is just using the force, but with edgy black paint thrown ontop.) We are given some vague explanation as to how it works, and Star is relaxes quite quickly.

Something worth noting is that when Rey picks up Star, she balances her on her hip. But we aren’t told what position Star is in when Rey did this. Was she lying down? Sitting up? Was she on the bed, off the bed? We don’t know, so all I can imagine is this screaming child, huddled over herself, suddenly getting man handled by her adoptive parent before being given the fictional equivalent of NyQuil.

And that’s not even touching upon the fact that the next scene has Rey sitting on the edge of Stars bed, with no indication that she moved Stars position from her hip. Which doesn’t sound very soothing or comforting to me.

This is actually incredibly common for writers to do, because we tend to forget that not everyone can read our minds. That's why it's recommended to not start editing a story immidiatly after you finish it, because you'll be more likely to notice once you forgot what you where originally going for.

Another thing worth mentioning is that this fic is skipping over the actual comfort part of it's premise. Rey isn’t asking Star what’s wrong, she isn’t trying to connect with her, find some way to soothe her fears. She isn’t offering any reassurances that everything will be alright.

She’s just manhandling this child around, using the force to make her stop screaming, and then goes right back to thinking about Aliana.

We then get another repetition in the next paragraph, so I’m just going to skip it.

Rey then begins to think about how they got Star.

Basically, when Rey and Aliana where “ready" to start a family, they decided to adopt a child who was kidnapped by the first order to become a stormtrooper. It’s explained that the children who couldn’t be reunited with their families were put up for adoption, and Aliana was the one who insisted they adopt Star.

Several things.

First, wasn’t it just stated that Star, who is force sensitive, was undergoing training to become a vicious Jedi killer? Why would she be lumped in with the stormtrooper kids?

Secondly, this line here, at the start of the paragraph 6:

When she and Alie decided they were ready to adopt, they had looked toward the rescued Stormtrooper kids.

There's just something about this that feels....weird. It's like their talking about a pet their planning on adopting. It feels dehuminising, impersonal.

It's like Star doesn't really matter, that any child would have worked just as fine, and that's not a feeling I want to have in a story about an adopted child who suffers from nightmares.

Thirdly, not only did Rey and Aliana rescue Star, but now you’re telling me they left her for an undescribed amount of time, before coming back and deciding to adopt her? And based off of the rest of the text, they clearly did not spend time with her after the rescue, or forge any bonds outside of Aliana deciding she wanted Star for... reasons I will talk about later.

Fourth, this line here at the end of the paragraph:

Aliana had insisted they take her in. 

Aliana was the one who decided on who they where adopting.

Where was Rey when it came to this decision? It feels like her entire involvement in this scenario was just her going “Whatever you want sweety. 😊” Which isn’t what I would want from an adoptive parent.

Here's a serious question that should have been concidered when writting this fic:

Why Star?

What made her stand out from the other children to Aliana? Why was she chosen, amongst all the others. She clearly didn’t leave that much of an impression when they rescued her, since Rey speaks of the adoption like they were picking a puppy.

So again, why Star?

This answ; coming soon.

Now, for the next paragraph, we get an explanation for Stars name. I know some of you felt very passionate about this, so here you go, the reason why Star has the name she does:

She’s called Star, because that’s what Aliana was called by her mother. Yes, that’s right; It's Aliana's nickname. Star is technically Aliana Junior, but with a few extra steps.

But let’s swap gears a little, and go back to Rey. She found the name cute, and felt that is showed how dedicated Aliana was to having her own family. 

It doesn’t actually.

It could show just how much Aliana missed her mother, be an example of healing, or be a total act of narcissism depending on how you view it, but it doesn’t show that Aliana was dedicated to having her own family.

Now, if Aliana had names already picked out and ready to go, long before she met Rey, then that would have been another story, but as it stands, she just named her kid after herself in a roundabout way.

The next paragraphs are… a lot, so I’m going to stop here, and pick it up in part 4. But I think were almost at the halfway point of the story now. So here’s to us!

#two loving mothers #Lily Orchard

[genuflectx]

Hi! Sorry to bother you if it’s annoying. I just read Axioms End and I’ve always had a love for monster or alien romance but the best I’ve found before was alien barbarians. Do you have any recommendations? I noticed you reviewed something with a cool spider monster so I figured you had some less humanoid ones (don’t mind smut but happy to have it if you have the recs!)

Not annoying, I love getting asks! :} I'm actually working on a recommendation/review list of terato novels/novellas but I don't quite have enough on the list to post it yet, so I'm afraid I may not have many recs for monster and alien lovin' novels juuust yet :{ Axiom's End is my fav tho!! It has a sequel if you haven't read it yet; tho the sequel is 10x sadder than the 1st, and book 3 is set to release next yr

Otherwise the only other books I have on my list (that I liked) are the Shape of Water tie-in novel (hit or miss for readers imo), and then The Mabon Feast (Wheel of the Year #1) which is the spider one you mentioned. But unfortunately Mabon Feast is a novella and not a full novel so you can read it in one short sitting. That author, C.M. Nascosta, has other smutty books with monsters but I haven't read them, and they may be just as short. Idk if she has anything that's just romance sans the smut, either. But I liked her writing style and characterizations, so you could check her out to see if she has anything else you might like!

Those are just published works though, there's lots of great non-human romance short stories published for free online, like here on Tumblr! A lot of these tend to be NSFW and are novella-length or shorter, but even the authors known for NSFW content tend to have a fluffy SFW piece here and there.

Snowkissedmonsters has some fun, well-written stuff you can read on her Tumblr! 

I know momosmonsters is also popular, though it’s been a long time since I read any of hers. 

I have original works I share here, too. 

Then there's actually a terato tag on AO3 where some people post their original works (me included)- but you might find some fandom fics mixed in.

There are also fandoms that lead towards terato shipping, which depending on the fandom may not be everyone's cup of tea, but I think are at least worth noting just in case. Fandoms can be fun places to find non-human romance, both fluff and smut, outside of traditionally published works and original fiction. The only issue is, if you’re not really into the fandom/characters, it bars you from enjoying them.

Half Life VR but the AI is Self Aware, for any ships related to Benry and Tommy, because those two are depicted as non-human (often monstrous, alien, or multi-dimensional). Benry is usually shipped with Gordan ("Frenry")

Subnautica, particularly Subnautica Below Zero (Subnautica's sequel), has an alien called AL-AN that the character talks to the whole game and whose body they build near the end. Fanfics shipping AL-AN and the main character Robin are huge terato vibes. (SPOILERS) He's basically an alien centaur and there's a line near the end that can be interrupted as romantic towards the character.

A recent personal fav of mine is from Five Nights at Freddy's: Security Breach, for the character of the Daycare Attendant (Sun and Moon). They're two robot jesters sharing a body, and are very popular with reader-insert writers. I’d recommend Bamsara’s fanfics for them, they’re QPP and SFW. QPP relationships with non-human characters aren’t explored a whole lot in monster communities, so Bam’s work is really fun to read in that regard, including their other fandom fics.

Someone will kill me for this because oof cringe but Undertale. Sans/reader fanfics are popular, and some are pretty entertaining, even if you’re not really that into Sans. Skeletons aren’t exactly a monster hugely popular in terato circles, so skeleton content is lacking, meaning if you’re looking for it the Undertale fandom fanfics deliver. There’s also... weirdly a lot of A/B/O fanfics for him?

Portal fandom offers two flavors of robot-romance; Chell/GLaDOS and Chell/Wheatley. Both are pretty different. Portal fandom has the benefit of having the fic “Blue Sky,” a Chell/Wheatley fanfic that reads like a professional novel and used to be ultra-popular in the 2010s.

Venom has some interesting fanfics. I could never seem to find one that really captured and enthralled me, though... but if anyone is ever looking for er, Venom smut, it’s there...

I hope to read more published books for my list soon, that way I can review more and recommend them!! Until then Axiom’s End is still top-tier imo for it’s weird/fun aliens and deeper storyline, there are lots of original writers you can thumb through on Tumblr & AO3, and fandoms can also help tide you over when you can’t find original fiction to get into. 

In lieu of novel suggestions, I have a list of rated films scored for their terato aspect.

Sorry if not super helpful, but thanks for the ask!

#terato #recommendations #exophilia #monster romance #novels

[i-want-my-iwtv]

Yeah baiting is no where near my intention. I asked that a week ago and have since read the first 4 vampire chronicles novels, whereas before I had just seen the IWTV movie. I feel a bit adrift and already no longer give a shit about the aesthetics. I think I just feel a little bit sad that generations will think the tv show is canon since most tv viewers are casual about these things and chances are will not pick up the books, or feel that the show is the superior version. I know it’s stupid but it’s like this nagging little thing in the back of my mind that’s been bothering me. It’s crazy how quickly these books have become sacrosanct to me and I feel that the shows plot line seems to keep the names of the characters and little else.

Of course I had a whole long answer here and Tumblr ate it, so now I have to be brief. Oh well.

have since read the first 4 vampire chronicles novels, whereas before I had just seen the IWTV movie.

See, you had the experience yourself, your gateway to the books was movie!IWTV. Now it seems that you find the books to be canon. This could be the same path for any incoming fans of the TV series, even if tv viewers seem to be casual about these things.

I feel a bit adrift 

I’m sorry you’re feeling adrift. 

and already no longer give a shit about the aesthetics.

I’m not sure which aesthetics you’re referring to here.

I think I just feel a little bit sad that generations will think the tv show is canon since most tv viewers are casual about these things and chances are will not pick up the books, or feel that the show is the superior version... and I feel that the shows plot line seems to keep the names of the characters and little else.

It's logical to feel that way, and yes, it looks like a lot of canon has been heavily altered. Casual tv viewers might think this TV show is canon, you’re right.

I think Marvel fans can tell that the films and TV shows are all adaptations and not the original comics, and there probably is divide in that fandom about fans who also read the comics, and those who don’t. There’s even conflicting canon between the films and the comics, and there can be fans who enjoy both. So you may be right, there could definitely be people who think of the TV series as canon and not read or not like the books.

Here's the thing about being concerned that casual tv viewers will feel that the show is the superior version:

Fandom is what you make of it, you can gravitate towards like-minded people, they'll gravitate to you. Someone has to take the risk to reach out. You're starting that by asking questions on anon, but as this is a really contentious topic, it will probably be difficult to find people willing to talk about it publicly now, or ever.

So I would recommend that you find fanfic writers and fanartists you enjoy, and you’ll start to find blogs of people who reblog those works. Skim their blogs, read their thoughts on VC to see whether you have good chemistry with them. And then take it from there!

Any adaptation is free advertising for the books. Movie!QOTD brought in fresh blood, and I was worried at the time that people who liked that movie might think of it as the superior story and/or not read the books. And really, from my experience, for the most part, people lived and let live. I don't remember seeing arguments that Marius being Lestat's maker was better than canon. Or that brunet Lestat is better than canon. I see praise that we got to see Lestat's concert on film, praise that we got to see Khayman, people making fanart and cosplay of Aaliyah's Akasha even 20 years later! So I'm thinking this will be similar, and we'll maybe even get some great things to cosplay/cherish, like Aaliyah's Akasha.

So let’s wait and see, and when the TV show comes out, maybe you’re right that TV series fans in general won’t go on to read the books. But they might, to try to find out more about the characters and end up possibly finding the canon story superior, or not, but it has no impact either way on your attachment to the canon books. 

#ask #anon #iwantmyiwtv has opinions #gif #tangled #read #advice #on fandom #iwtv amc #long post

[geekgemsspooksandtoons]

Some thoughts on Friday the 13th 2009

Guess that title will do or so. I was joking with @lovezdarestevez4ever about something and got distracted from not making this. This isn’t really a review. But some points from me on how I feel about the film.

I don’t really hate the 2009 reimagining of the series. And that’s due to a couple of reasons.

1. It’s literally the same as the earlier films. Compared to something like Halloween 2007 or Elm Street 2010, I don’t know. It’s more like the fact it feels like it’s part of the same series despite some things that separate it. It almost feels like a “Legacy” sequel but it’s not. 

It’s technically akin to something like Batman 1989 where the origin isn’t a full focal point. But it strangely leads into something. Weird comparison, it’s more like, “Let’s kind of skip the origin and just show it really quick” kind of shit.

2. The idea to use elements from the first four films is actually a fucking genius idea. Because you’re practically blending in what are basically considered possibly the best films or so and combine into one story without having to make more than one film.

Even though I genuinely wouldn’t mind a legitimate remake of the first film. But I keep thinking general audiences just want to see Jason.

3. The portrayal of Jason is still my favorite of all the actors. Even though I like them all. But Derek Mears is the kind of Jason I love. And honestly, I see this as a Jason film mainly because of the number of times he shows up. 

4. Trent’s entire character. This may sound strange, but holy crap. Even though he’s not a favorite of mine. But he’s such a cartoonish douchebag that it downright amuses me with his fucking dialogue being so insane. That you’re in shock with how fucking douchey he is because Travis Van Winkle plays him so well. He’s strangely meme material.

WeWatchedAMovie’s review of the film where they talk about Trent, they explain it perfectly in the most humorous way. And there’s a scene and from that review, I hear that Michael Bay himself walked out halfway through the movie because there was...too many tities. I question this, like, did he actually say that somewhere?

5. I will admit, I actually like the score from Steve Jablonsky. Even if I still prefer Harry Manfredini’s scores.

-

Now on to the more negative stuff that...brings the film down.

1. The fact it’s the same as the earlier films...it’s kind of nothing special. Yet it’s special in a way where I don’t feel bothered by it like Halloween 2007 or Elm Street 2010. But the fact it’s kind of...somewhat nothing special brings it down. And this goes into the next thing I want to talk about.

2. The idea to use elements from the first four films is still genius. But the way the writers did it just wasn’t for me. The best way I could describe the film is how my good buddy @lovezdarestevez4ever​ said in her review of the film.

The film is practically a “CliffNotes” version of Friday the 13th from writers who watched the older films without paying attention to why certain elements worked. And honestly, considering I have a little problem with the writers...I agree. This is her review right here. https://at.tumblr.com/lovezdarestevez4ever/i-watched-friday-the-13th-2009-and-it-was/opxnm29hwwis

Because to me, the elements don’t blend naturally. Or they don’t use these elements in a more meaningful way. You know how like in comic book films they take elements from different stories and try to blend them in the best story possible to adapt? It’s a weird comparison. It’s just I think if Filmento ever did a video on Friday the 13th 2009, and I have thought about this before. He would point out stuff that feels like it wasn’t thought more about or whatever.

I again, think blending in those elements is a cool idea because in a strange way. I could see the first three films as a 277-minute-long film. I actually used my computer’s calculator to look that shit up. Yet this likely counts the beginning and end credits for all three films.

The point being is that considering this was directed by the guy who directed the 2003 Texas Chainsaw Massacre remake. I feel like they could’ve done more with those elements and did something new with them or build upon them. I strangely wished that the write for that remake came back for this instead of the writers from Freddy vs Jason. But that depends on what Scott Kosar would’ve done, or maybe another writer.

I do appreciate the decision to go back to the “Grittier” route of the earlier FT13th films. That was something needed after the last few films.

3. And the characters, and listen, I get a lot of FT13th characters aren’t much to write home about. But I agree with my friend that they are more like...parodies in a sense. Where in the originals, the characters seem more casual despite a lot being service level. And while I think Clay is one of the better protagonists of the series, the other characters are hit and miss. Despite a lot of them get a lot of brutal kills as usual.

There’s also the fact the storyline with Jason and Whitney couldn’t been dealt with so much better. Because that is something I REALLY like, but it’s not built upon more or something.

I should just finish the post. The 2009 reboot is basically a modernized version of part 3, but without the 3D. And you get elements from parts 1, 2, and 4. It seems weird that I use part 3 as an example. Mainly because part 3 feels like the most “Random” or “Disconnected” because NO ONE besides Chris knows of Jason in that film. And they never say his name.

#GeekGem Rambles #friday the 13th #friday the 13th 2009