#so you can turn off your brain and just enjoy whateverthefuck this is

[jeremy-ken-anderson]

Too Tired to be Woke

I happened to invent this line in the midst of discussing bad behavior within one of my own friend groups and having to decide what to do about it, and it really seems worth investigating.

There are two objectives to any movement, good or bad: Recruit, and Defeat.

This understanding is important when you’re dealing with, say, fascist American youths who happen to be snappy dressers. A lot of folks who consider themselves “left” and “allies” will assume the goal is to Recruit these snappy dressers. It Ain’t. Those are still fascists, and the objective is to stop them from getting shit done, push our own shit through despite them, and deal with the possibility of them achieving actualization or whateverthefuck once other people are safe. From Them.

Anyway. Got off-topic.

The concept of “too tired to be woke” comes up a lot in critiques of shows and media. The complaints come from fans who miss the good ol’ days of “turn off your brain” style TV, perhaps even trotting out such tired phrases as “when men were men!”

And there is a balance to be struck. Writing affecting badass moments into media that isn’t mindless support for patriarchy can be more difficult, and writing involves many spinning plates so it is unfortunately possible to drop a “writing an interesting scene” or “avoiding a bad plot hole” plate when you make the effort to spin the “don’t make your story endorse bigotry.”

But that last plate is worth spinning anyway. Like, everything you add to or leave out of a scene is a choice with costs and benefits. If you’re an agile, clever writer you can write a scene that succeeds on several layers at once. Many a grand video essay has been written on scenes that succeed on several levels. If you can’t write a story without huge bad plot holes that has interesting scenes and doesn’t endorse bigotry...I’m not going to say you shouldn’t be a writer, tbh, I’m just going to say that personally I’d rather you left in the gaping plot holes if that’s what it takes.

This is all complicated by the twin facts that a) some of the shows catching flak for trying too hard to appeal to a diversity-loving audience are legitimately bad, and b) a lot - and I mean a lot - of the people leveling these complaints aren’t being honest (sometimes even with themselves) about what’s making them angry about the media. Plenty of them would have liked She-ra just fine gender-swapped. It’s funny, it’s got good action, starting the hero off as a gaslit member of the baddies is a cool trope, and the dynamics between the protagonist and antagonist(s) are fun.

Many men - and again, they’d be insulted to hear this, because they haven’t admitted this even to themselves - are upset by media that treats women as real people with their own agency. They find scenes that pass the Bechdel Test superfluous (because “nothing even happens in this scene”).

Beyond even that is the fact that a lot of the shitty stuff that made its way into older media is now part of a memory that may be attached to a happier time in your life. Does Jim-Bob actually bemoan the loss of scenes where women get literally objectified by hypno-rays because it’s a personal fetish, because he truly thinks avoiding mind control plotlines is somehow bad writing, or just because the stories that had it were the ones he consumed back when his life was simple and happy and he didn’t have a shit job?

And to make that first bit of this post less of a worthless tangent... We don’t necessarily need to win over Jim-Bob with every cartoon. If you’re writing kid’s media, maybe don’t worry about how well it satisfies the needs of a thirtysomething. In that case it’s less about him being “defeated” so much as “worked around.” But the principle’s the same. With the energy one might spend appeasing the Jim-Bobs of the internet you could just make a better cartoon that is more fun, even if Jim-Bob never enjoys it.

#writing #ethics

[samirant]

The Saga of Backpfeifengesicht

It is August 22nd and the Jaime x Brienne Fic Exchange anonymity is over! And with this, I can finally tell the tale of how I got repeatedly cockblocked fic-blocked by @ajoblotofjunk​ - because without that sly little minx, I never, ever, would have gotten to write Backpfeifengesicht. The thanks and blame lies almost entirely at her feet. 

The following is rather gif-heavy, thanks to some of my favorite shows. Brace yourselves. 

You could assume the story starts with this:

It does not.

It really started with this:

And then...

And from there it took off!

It ended up being @slipsthrufingers​, @nire-the-mithridatist​ and @firesign23​ who took the helm on the exchange. You’ll notice that I’m not anywhere in these conversations, mostly because I’d never done a fic exchange in my life, let alone run one. The decision to stay a silent supporter in the background was an easy one to make. Surely that way I could stay outside of the chaos and drama that was sure to come. 

Little did I know.

The exchange opened and the numbers ticked up. Best estimates were that fifty writers would sign up and the exchange got TWICE that. It was phenomenal, exciting, wonderful - and thus the work began. What prompts would we get, who would we write for, what would we write?

Then, an email:

I knew @brynnmck​, or at least of her. Best buds with sdwolfpup aka @ajoblotofjunk​, lives in the States and I knew for a fact that she  enjoyed my writing in the past. This is going to be a breeze.

(Oh, I was a sweet, naive summer child.)

There were three different prompt options: rock star fic, vacation fic, and an oh-no-only-one-bed fic. I struck the last one out right away because I’d literally just done a Sansaery story utilizing that plot and didn’t want to repeat myself so blatantly. Like so many others, I went to my friends for help with planning, having one conversation in particular with @forbiddenfantasies1​ that promptly fell out of my brain.

(Three weeks later…)

The vacation prompt seemed the most inviting and I started to wonder, huh, what if Jaime and Brienne are modern adrenaline junkies and they do extreme vacations, like BASE jumping?

...I know nothing about BASE jumping.

And, what’s more, in the course of that time period, I read a fic by sdwolfpup where she referenced BASE jumping between the two of them. I chuckled to myself and tossed that idea aside. Back to brainstorming!

Inspiration struck! I decided on the vacation prompt - with a twist! I started writing! I turned to my good friend @forbiddenfantasies1 aka FF and said I HAVE SOMETHING YAAAAY: 

And I took a second to wonder… wait. Did she tell me this three weeks ago? 

Did I...? 

...oh no. 

Oh, no no no.

I searched our Discord history and...

I stole my friend’s prompt. I STOLE HER PROMPT.

That’s not me throwing a gauntlet, that’s me throwing away my bit of fic in the garbage, where it belonged. THE GALL. THE FAULTY MEMORY THAT LED TO MY WORST ACTION.

FF tried to be gracious about it, though she was in no way at fault. NO WAY. We had a long talk. And then a longer one. And then another where I said ENOUGH! You write yours and I’ll find something different, it’s the right thing to do. 

So I turned to the Rock Star Fic. Music. Guitars. Not my bag, but there’s something there. The brainstorming began again. Then, courtesy of @ajoblotofjunk :

Wait, what?

SDWOLFPUP AKA BRYNN’S BESTIE

IS

WRITING

A

MUSIC

AU

Not just anyone. Her best friend. A brilliant, brilliant writer. 

There was only one thing I could do. 

So there went mine.

(Slips: TWO CAAAAKES!

Sami: HER BEST FRIEEEEEEEND! NO!)

Commence brainstorming, part… whateverthefuck, I don’t even know.

And some more brainstorming. (And the beginning of some A+ dramatics.)

It... was not pretty.

My friends reminded me that it only had to be a thousand words - I could do that, it was highly attainable, I just had to find something. Anything. FF knows Brynn and said that she’s so chill! She’ll enjoy anything, just give it a shot!

I gave it a shot.

The struggle continued. My brain was stuck on the fact that I had been a bad, prompt-thieving friend and then that whatever sdwolfpup already had cooking was surely miles ahead of what I hadn’t been able to piece together. My friends told me to stop being so dramatic. I said:

Finally. An idea came to mind. Something simple, maybe even a single scene. The vacation prompt. Perhaps… Brienne goes on vacation. No one knows her, she doesn’t have to prove anything to anyone, maybe she decides to take a chance on that handsome man at the bar.

Yes, I told my dear @Luthienebonyx. I think that’s what I’m going to do. Brienne meets Jaime in a bar.

ONE HOUR LATER:

ONE.

HOUR.

LATER.

And if you aren’t convinced that karma wasn’t out to get me, may I draw your attention to the acknowledgement in the notes:

J’accuse! FF! @forbiddenfantasies1​ !!!!!!

Et tu, FF?

INDEED, CAPTAIN RAYMOND HOLT. INDEED.

I was languishing. Suffering. Bemoaning the very idea that I should even be in the exchange at all!!!

Meanwhile, SDW:

And I am:

I turned to FF, all HOW COULD YOU!

She was understandably confused. 

I was back to the drawing board.

There was a serious discussion of handing off my prompts to another writer, trading with someone so that I could get over my writer’s block - or at least stop getting fic-blocked by a certain talented author who was surely in cahoots with my friend-enemy FF.

FF tried to talk some sense into me. And she handed me, as it has come to be known: Brynnformation.

I decided to give it one. last. go. 

And I remembered.

Nine months later, the time had come for Backpfeifengesicht. 

I held it close to my chest. Very close. So close that I stopped checking tumblr for fear of discovering that sdwolfpup had caught the scent of my story in the air and eclipsed me yet again. When my friends asked how it was going, I was perfectly reasonable, totally chill, very:

I was informed that sdwolfpup had gone on vacation, THANK GOD, I WAS SAFE FOR A WEEK.

After I got past the murderous paranoia, I started to put a story together. Vacations. Road trips. Baseball. And, as it said in the prompts, Brynn enjoys herself some J/B lovin’. FF pointed out that Brynn had a fondness for lovin’ that involves tables.

And with that Friend-Enemy FF became Friend FF once more, as she should always be considered.

All hail Brynnformation!

Yes. It was Backpfeifengesicht’s moment to shine.

(I… stopped checking sdw’s tumblr. For my own sense of self and stability. If she came up with a random german name, I was sure to throw in the towel.)

I wrote and wrote and wrote some more. I refused to let my friends see it for fear of jinxing the whole damn thing. I was nearly halfway through when I had a truly horrible day at work and the only thing that cheered me was to break my silence and share a bit of it with @forbiddenfantasies and @elizadunc - they were new to my whining in ways that Slips, Nire, Luthien and Firesign had grown immune to.

Their response?

Though I was still in a mindset more like:

FF: Sami, stop freaking out.

Sami: I CAN’T.

I looped in the rest of my friends, so they could beta and also convince me not to bin the entire thing all over again. It was the work of SIX PEOPLE to keep me from giving up this whole damn thing.

SIX PEOPLE.

At last, the story was done and I landed somewhere between:

and

Don’t believe me?

I kept my eye out for sdwolfpup. If she was watching, she was being clever about it. 

I edited. 

My friends and wonderful betas tried to talk me down off the ledge. Repeatedly.

I made myself wait to post anyway, and not without one last freak out.

AND

SHE

DID

But hey, she also said:

Gee... I wonder how that happened?

@forbiddenfantasies1​ - you are a filthy liar and the goddamn best <3 This story would not exist without you or sdwolfpup’s fic-blocking ways. My love and my echoing screams of despair to you both. 

#jaime x brienne #jaime x brienne fic exchange 2020 #backpfeifengesicht #my fic #my dRaMA #it is a TALE #of woe and triumph and table sex

[jack-kellys]

woulda look at that! it’s PART TWO of the thanksgiving fic!!! right on time!!! scroll down on my blog for part 1 gang

alright!

————

warnings: ha steam YEET, like steam enough that qualifies for NSFW ohohoho but nothing Happens dw, more cursing, yeah

words: more than last time? yeah

woo

————

As much as Albert wasn’t confused as to why he was called to this occasion, he knew Crutchie would regret it. Everyone would. Something would go wrong—that was just how it was.

He, Race, Romeo, and Elmer were all going to be cooking in one kitchen together. If someone didn’t fucking kill themselves it’d be a goddamn miracle. Team Brain had evacuated the entire floor, leaving the group alone.

“Sis, why are we even making pumpkin pie? I hate that shit,” Romeo whined, reluctantly unwrapping the plastic on the crust.

“A few things on what you just said to me,” Albert started, not even looking at the boy.

“Oooh man. Here we go,” Race interjected with a giddy smile. “He always does this.”

“First,” Al spoke louder to be heard over Race. “First, do not ever call me sis, or sister, or whateverthefuck. Second, we are making pumpkin pie because it is fucking thanksgiving and you do that shit. And third, shut up. I don’t need your goddamn opinions.”

“Awww, SHIT!” Elmer cheered. “Get fucked, Ro.”

“‘That’s just my opinion!’” Romeo quoted, doing the distorted voice as well and earning a laugh from Albert. Dammit, Vine.

“Got you!” Romeo taunted. “I made’ja laugh!”

“Go peel me some fuckin’ potatoes, you heathen,” Race ordered. Romeo sighed dramatically, passing Albert the crust and going through drawers searching for a peeler.

“Hey, I brought a speaker. Y’all want music?” Elmer asked, holding up his Bluetooth speaker. Albert looked up for a moment, seeing it only briefly before Race snatched it up and was syncing it up to his own phone.

“Goddammit, Race,” Albert sighed, but kept stirring the condensed milk into the bowl he was using. “Sorry, guys, I gotta go up two stories and throw myself out the window.”

“My fault,” El shrugged. “Sorry, Al.”

“It’s okay, El, I’ll just die. It’s fine,” Albert assured him. Elmer smiled brightly in response, nodding, and the two burst out laughing.

“Date?” Race asked, Taylor Swift coming in through the speaker as he looked between Elmer and Albert.

Albert deadpanned. “Race. I have been dating you since we were fifteen and gross.”

“Yeah, um...why?” Romeo asked. Reasonable question.

“I like...couldn’t tell you, sorry,” Albert shrugged, but regretted his words as soon as he saw Race’s smirk.

“That’s not what you’d say in be—“

Before Race could finish, Albert scooped a small amount of pie mixture out of the bowl with his spoon and flung it at Race without a second thought.

“‘Stop! I could’ve dropped my croissant!’” Race screeched, ducking around the glob and waving the speaker around.

“Actually, that’s my croissant,” Elmer added. This time, Romeo burst out laughing.

“Shit, this kid is on fire tonight,” Albert chuckled. “Race who?”

“Again,” Race said, pointer finger in the air as if to make a point, “that’s not what you say in be-ed.” Oh, great. He finished his sentence this time.

“Jesus Christ, shut up and stop exposing me,” Albert muttered, trying to focus on how the mix in his bowl was getting stiffer, which was good. Romeo had peeled more than a few potatoes, Elmer had chopped up all the sweet potatoes, and even Race had gotten more than halfway through with whatever Italian crazy thing he was making for tomorrow. They had made real, actual progress.

So when Race said “make me” with a sparkle in his blue eyes and a smirk pulling on his lips, Elmer and Romeo wiggling their eyebrows at Albert in return, Al only took a moment of hesitation before he marched up to Race and locked his lips with his, Elmer managing to catch his beloved speaker as it dropped out of Race’s hand when he went to wrap his arms around Albert’s neck, pulling at his red hair. Albert’s hands found their way around their usual place at Race’s hips, squeezing lightly.

“Give us a few minutes, boys,” Albert mumbled around Race’s mouth, then hiked Race up against his body, grabbing under his thighs.

He heard Romeo whistle. “Hell yeah! Get the hell outta here!” Romeo cheered, Elmer shushing him jokingly and turning up the music a bit more after changing it.

Albert walked he and Race into the closest room, pressing Race against the wall as his lips latched onto Race’s neck, trailing kisses down it. Al felt Race give his forehead a quick kiss before he let out a small moan.

“Why do we always get hot at shitty times?” Race breathed out, squeezing his thighs tighter around Albert's hips.

“Y’kinda fuckin’ asked for it, Sunshine,” Al murmured against Race’s skin, feeling the other boy shiver. He felt Race try to trace through Albert’s shirt to his chest, making the redhead whine slightly, a poor attempt at stifling it. Race laughed lightly at his expense.

“An’ you are fuckin’ needy,” Race taunted, leaning his hips closer into Albert’s and laughing again when Albert let out a hum. Suddenly Race grabbed Albert’s chin and tilted it up towards him, blue eyes now narrowed. “Not like I’m complaining,” Race whispered, and Albert swore his heart started to beat fifty miles a minute. Albert quickly closed the distance between them, kissing Race bruisingly hard as he squeezed the boy’s thighs, resisting the urge to run his hands over Race’s body.

After a couple of minutes, Race attempted to speak. “Would—“ Albert stopped his sentence, kissing him again before letting him speak for real. “Would Kath kill us if we fucked in her house?”

Al leaned away from Race’s face a moment, actually considering the idea and biting his swollen lip in thought. “Well…” He pursed his lips, “wouldn’t it be, like, a literal ‘fuck you’ to her dad?”

Race laughed. “Sex in protest!”

Albert grinned. “A fuck—but for the good of the people.”

Race cracked up at that, and Albert tore Race off the wall in search of a bedroom as Race giggled against the hickey he was trying to give.

•••

Thanksgiving day had finally come, and now everyone was over decorating the mansion or finalizing food. Sniper had Smalls sitting on her shoulders to tape something up, Jack was arguing with Buttons about what color was better for the tablecloth, Specs and Henry were in the kitchen double checking things, and most everyone else was laughing and talking or absently putting up more decorations. Kath clasped her hands together in excitement just watching her friends all working together and enjoying themselves. It was just how she had pictured, and it truly warmed her heart.

“Kinda cute, right?” Sarah said, putting an arm around Kath’s waist and watching their friends as well. “Pretty impressive they got it together for this one day.”

“If only they could get it together, period,” Kath joked while Sarah nodded vigorously.

“But seriously,” Katherine said, “it’s kind of…really nice that this is that important to everyone.”

“Hey!” Specs called to the room. “Food’s ready!”

A few whoops went up as most people made their way to the long table. Spot, Albert, and Jack helped to take all the platters to the table.

“You really outdid yaself, Kath,” Jack complimented, nudging Katherine as he passed her. “Thanks for this.”

She gave him an earnest smile, heading to her seat with Sarah. Once she got there, fire she even sat down, she was startled by Race yelling “S P E E C H!” at the top of his lungs. Although anyone sitting in a two foot radius of him told him to shut the fuck up, everyone else looked like they wanted a goddamn speech, and some started chanting it.

Which Katherine, even while expecting this to happen a little, had definitely not prepared.

“Okay, okay,” she laughed before their chanting would break any glass. “You want a speech? Fine. Alright.

“This day is normally not a very special day for me. Yeah, okay, I go to a fancy other mansion upstate every year, but it’s not..special. Even if I’m seeing family and people I haven’t seen in a year, those people there are mostly just that to me—people.

“I don’t know them. Not like I know all of you, or you knowing all of me. This is what thanksgiving should be, right? Spending it with people you actually know and talk to and keep in touch with. People who really make a difference in your life.

All of you? Are what thanksgiving is supposed to mean. Family, and friends, and people that in turn have made me a better person for knowing them. So I just…” Kath wiped her face quickly, laughing at herself a little. “Thank you, you know? For actually making this year’s holiday important to me again.”

A chorus of ‘aww’s filled the air while some boys clapped. Katherine finally sat down, blushing, and Sarah kissed her cheek gently.

“Honey, that was so sweet,” she whispered. “They gotta be honored you feel that way.” Katherine saw Davey nod on her other side and felt him squeeze her shoulder, but then saw Jack stand up next to him.

“As a matter of fact—“ He barely started before getting booed by nearly everyone. Katherine cackled in laugher while Jack whapped her arm. “Hey! We can all agree I somewhat speak for us, right? C’mon!” he finished, eyes wide.

Most of the booing died down, and Kath snorted as Spot started to protest and Race & Albert both smacked a hand over his mouth at the same time.

“Alright,” Jack restarted, eyes sweeping the massive table before continuing. “I just wanted to voice what all of us are probably thinking, which is that we should be thanking you. You let our crazyass group not only into your father’s mansion—which, every time you do that, holy shit thank you—but let us cook actual food in your kitchen, let us decorate your whole house, let us buy what we wanted for today, I mean...to any one of us, that is really somethin’. You gotta know this ain’t just special for you, but us too, cause there really ain’t any other place big enough to fit all of us.” A few laughs chorused, but Jack shushed the room once more. “We usually gotta split up for thanksgiving, I dunno if you knew that Kath. So this is a first time for us too, so, thanks. More than you know.” He shrugged, giving Katherine a smile as he sat back down.

“I guess that was pretty valid,” Smalls sighed, and everyone else begrudgingly agreed.

“Well, thank you, all of you, for also thinking that today is special. It means a lot to me,” Katherine smiled. “Now! Let’s eat, ‘cause we worked way too hard on this goddamn food for it to get cold!”

More cheering this time as everyone dug in at last. People laughed as they talked, everyone looked to be liking the food. They looked…happy. Really, really happy.

And so was Katherine, finally, on a day she never thought she would be.

———

happy thanksgiving everyone, not to be romantic and cheesy an bullshit but I’m grateful that all y’all read my shit it’s really cool of you! thanks so much!

TAG LIST

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#yaaaaaaaaaay we did it #4am js a golden hour folks #newsies #albert dasilva #racetrack higgins #ralbert #when would i Not lmao #elmer kasprzak #romeo #romeo newsies #specs #specs newsies #jack kelly #sarah jacobs #katherine pulitzer #i like writing her a lot actually hmmmmmmm #davey jacobs #smalls #smalls newsies #spot conlon #newsies fics #fizz freaks #fizz wants to write #my writing #aaaAAAAAAA