#also damn that lack of motivation hits like a motherfucker

[lavenderrosu]

Excerpt from that Ambush fic cus why the hell not hehehehe >:)

These four words would repeat through your head as you fiddle with the bow of the present pastel-colored box in your hands. The present you hold was one of the few things that you(with the help of Glitch, Halt, and Eyes) had planned for this special day. So many thoughts would run through your mind as you continue to play with the bow’s silky ribbon out of fear. “What if she says no?” You ask yourself in thought. “What if she just wants to be friends? What if this makes things super awkward between us? Am I rushing this? What if she was not even into me? What abo-”

Before you could continue to psych yourself out with any more rambling questions, knocking at the door would disturb your thoughts as you turn your head towards the offending noise.

#ramblings #writing stuff #excerpts #roblox doors #roblox ambush #ambush my sweet beloved #also damn that lack of motivation hits like a motherfucker

[corpsentry]

behind the taylor swift gundam was in fact another, smaller gundam: a brief inquiry into the events of june 2020

so back in june this year june and i got together and we made this motherfucker of a story with this motherfucker of a thread to keep track of it all. but you already know that! and i’ve already got one foot and three elbows in my grave, so i’ll spare you the long-winded stuff. you wanna know how i wrote 93,035 words in 4 weeks? i’ll tell you how i wrote 93,035 words in 4 weeks-

-by linking you guys to copies of my planning documents because i feel like those words speak louder than any words i can offer in the present day. these are long documents. but they are also historical artifacts. very interesting. very weird. very, uh, full of cussing. so anyway, here’s

BIG DADDY: THE ORIGINAL PLANNING DOCUMENT

for those, like me, who have no motivation left in life to do anything and rely on summaries from others to acquire new knowledge, it all started with a single line.

prince of a fallen kingdom atsumu tries to kill hinata but falls in love with him instead

june, april something, 2020

with that in mind i tested the concept out with a few paragraphs of text, which you can find at the bottom of the Big Daddy document in the graveyard segment, accidentally sold my soul to the image of hinata with epaulettes, and then worked backwards, structuring an entire plot around two images:

a) hinata getting the shit beat out of him, with snark b) hinata and atsumu dancing in an empty ballroom under the stars

if you want a betrayal, you have to have something worth losing. if you want to fall in love with someone you don’t know, you have to meet them. if you have to meet them, there has to be a reason for that meeting, and so somewhere in between atsumu became a sword instructor and hinata the prince with daddy issues. june and i used this method of glancing anxiously over your shoulder to see what you’d missed to fill out the blanks in the story, after which i tacked up a bunch of post-its, typed out the plot, consulted june, typed out the plot again, and then broke the characters down into a bunch of questions, like ‘what do they want?’ and ‘what do they have?’ and ‘what are they afraid of?’

with the plot more or less ironed out, i decided it was time to start writing, and then i decided that i was actually too scared to start writing after all, so instead i set a couple of timers using classroomtimers.com (15-20 minutes long) and i sat down and i wrote about the world that hinata and atsumu inhabited.

each warm-up was 300-500 words long, and for the first few days, i’d write one before getting into writing the story proper. later these evolved into simply picking a scene from the story and launching straight into it, which became useful for opening those scenes later when i got to them organically.

then i got lazy! so i stopped. but these shitty little exercises were really useful for me because, unfettered by plot, convention, or any kind of tradition hovering over my shoulder, i was able to fuck around loosely enough to realize what i wanted this story to be. it was a very contrived kind of trial-and-error, an exploration of the characters, the story, but most importantly, the tone.

RESEARCH, PLANNING, AND VICTORIAN BOUGIE FASHION

this is a loose map of the castle and Important Locations within it, which i drew up at the start so i could keep track of where everything was and how i could get my characters from point A to point B. i wanted the story to have Some kind of internal logic, you know, even if that logic amounted to ‘a compass would function normally in this world whereas kageyama tobio would not’.

99% of my planning and organizing within those five weeks took place in this lovely dotted cat journal which my sister gave me for my birthday and i repurposed into a metaphorical Diary of Suffering while working on juno. i used it for everything from keeping track of narrative threads to clothing consistency checks, but the main purpose was this: each day at about 10 pm i’d crack open the cat book to a fresh page, stamp the date and the day of suffering at the top, and then write down a list of things i wanted to write, address, or fix today. then i’d sit at my laptop and write like a madman until about 7 in the morning. with breaks, of course, for sitting in the bathroom and staring at the wall and sitting in the kitchen and staring at the wall, but mostly i was writing. and complaining about writing. you were there, you probably remember that.

anyway, here are some pages from the cat book.

aside from the fact that my handwriting is complete shit, you can see that i made zero effort for any of this to be presentable. it was mainly a way for me to keep track of my thoughts because i have the attention span of an ikea wardrobe and tend to forget things as soon as i think of them. the lack of structure also mirrored the way that i went about writing juno. while i did proceed, for the most part, in chronological order, i had a lot of weird and useless revelations during lunch, which by this point was happening around 2 am, and in the 5 minutes before the exhaustion finally hit and carried me down to hell. i changed A Lot. again, to understand exactly how much the story evolved from day one onwards, please consult the big daddy document.

in the meantime, here’s something else.

once june sent over hinata and atsumu’s character designs i sat down like the fucking fool i am and spent 2 hours poring over a document about victorian and other fashion movements of the past so i could assign a noun, adjective, and verb to each element of their outfits. i don’t know why i did this. i certainly could have not, but i attempted to make sense of their ‘fits from a logistical perspective and that went into the cat book too. everything went into the cat book. the cat book is a relic of the past now, stuffed with artifacts such as the birth of oikawa tooru, and also his demise.

MEDIUM DADDY: EDITING, PROOFREADING, AND CREEPY MURDER CATS

i finished writing on june 26th, 2020, approximately a month after i’d first started planning, somewhere around may 27th or 28th. at that point i had about 90,000 words’ worth of story and no sanity left whatsoever, so i took a day-long break to stare at a wall and listen to taylor swift’s enchanted on loop.

and then i made a new document, which you can look at using the link above, and i laid out everything i had to do. i’d discovered a fuck ton of plot inconsistencies and general errors while writing and lying awake in bed at 9 a.m., sleepless in seattle, and now that i was free of the demon egging me towards the first finish line, it was time to Deal with them. i speed-scrolled through the draft, which was 200+ pages compressed into one google doc, because i like to tempt god’s wrath, and fixed up all the plot issues over the course of a few days. this was the fun part.

the actual, hard editing was the extremely un-fun part. i reread the entire thing, paragraph by paragraph, line by damn line, from start to finish, paying especially close attention to awkward phrasing, incomplete dialogue, and moments which had fallen flat in my haste to get on to the next one. this was really fucking terrible. i spent more time lying facedown on the floor than actually editing anything, but after a long time (about a week), that, too was done.

SMALL DADDY: TITLES, SUMMARIES, AND GOOD FUCKING BYES

i spent a good eighty days thinking about the title, though hilariously enough we ended up with something that was a blend of our names. june + elmo = juno, which is, all things considered, pretty perfect, but the process of picking the title was Hell, and i Did Not Come Up With The Title until about 2 hours before posting. you can take a look at the haphazard clusterfuck of my title-selecting process in small daddy, which is linked above.

so the title was a last-minute choice. so was the summary. and the chapter divisions. and actually all the songs in the playlist for juno. the day we dropped juno onto planet earth like a newborn baby pitched out of the sky, i spent an hour hunched over my laptop, cutting my 213 page google doc into chapters based on nothing more than a Vibe. two days before that, i also attempted to voice-act the entirety of juno, an affair which ended at the 20,000 word mark with a sore throat and the kind of exhaustion one typically wants to sleep in a coffin for 23 years to get rid of. so in all honesty, i did very little editing, which is why there are definitely minor typos and/or mistakes hanging out somewhere on that chunky ao3 webpage. but whatever.

my attitude by july 5th (was it july 5th? or 4th? somewhere around there) was basically whatever. anything so i could get finish this damn thing, chuck it out of the window, and never see another google doc until the next century. i’ve been asked a few times how exactly i wrote at a rate of roughly 2000-3000 words per day for four weeks straight, and my answer has always been this: i died. what died, you ask? my soul. my spirit. my Will To Live. i’m a creature of fixations, and juno was my fixation for june. will i ever be able to do this again? would i recommend this experience to anyone? is god real? the answer to all of the above is probably no. juno was a fever dream, and so is my cat book. and so are all the lattes i had. and so was my 9 am to 4 pm sleep schedule.

but what we made is real. the research, oikawa tooru, the 4 am conversations in which i was like ‘how the fuck do i end this’ and june was like ‘jade proposal’ (the proposal was her idea. all rise for twitter user atsuhinas. she is the mastermind behind all of the Inch Resting moments in this story; i just flapped a korok leaf in her direction and made sure the air circulation was working properly) are real as fuck, and looking back, there’s a lot i’d change, but i’m lazy. and college is starting. and anyway, i did write 93,035 words in just under five weeks, four if you don’t count the week of Editing Hell, so i think that’s pretty cool.

thank you for reading this to the end, and for following us on our journey through the enigmatic taylor swift gundam fic which quite literally consumed my entire twitter account for the five weeks i spent working on it. retrospectively speaking i really was butt-obsessed so i am frankly incredibly impressed with everyone around me for putting up with a Husk of a Man for a month. thank you for doing that. thank you for indulging my vague tweeting, and our butterfly dns, and for reading 93 thousand words of gay fanfiction set in a high fantasy world with epaulettes and galettes. on behalf of june, once again, we are incredibly grateful for all your support.

if you have any questions about specific aspects of the writing process, or anything you’d like to know in general with reference to JUNO, feel free to drop me an ask through my tumblr inbox, or through my curiouscat over here. i’m aware i didn’t cover everything, but there’s frankly too much to put in a tumblr post without passing away somewhere around the 56% mark, so let me know what’s on your mind, and i’ll try to answer that to the best of my abilities. but anyway, before i go, here are some

TAKEAWAYS

one: don’t try to write 93,000 words in five weeks. seriously don’t fucking do it you will end up jittery and sleep-deprived and you will leave all your friends on read for a month. pace yourself. set realistic goals. you wrote 2k this week? that’s fantastic. you wrote 4k in a day? you absolute motherfucker. i hope you’re taking a long fucking break tomorrow. your story will not run away from you, but if you run too fast, you will get tired, and then you will pass away.

two: you don’t have to know everything about your story before you start writing. in fact if you have a single camera shot of two characters holding hands under a rose garden awning, i think that’s fucking wonderful. if you look at big daddy, you’ll realize that my initial plot draft, and all the ones following that, are not perfectly aligned with the final version of juno. i improvised over half of the scenes in this motherfucker, and to be completely honest, some of the improvised scenes were the best. fucking oikawa tooru was improvised out of nowhere. he only got written in way later, around chapter 8 or something, because i realized i needed a plot device and a source of information to keep the playing table from toppling over. i Sat Down one day and was like ‘okay, it’s time to write oikawa into the introduction. because he matters now. he didn’t matter last week but now he does, and soon he’s going to be the fulcrum of the entire story, because it’s like that with oikawa tooru’. it’s okay to change your mind halfway. it’s okay to go back and rewrite entire scenes or segments. it’s okay to highlight 4 pages of fresh, sentimental writing, and hit delete. writing is a fluid process, and you Will make discoveries as you progress through your story alongside your characters. be understanding of that iterative process. be kind to yourself.

three: You Are That Motherfucker. you, me, your dog, your dog’s friend, your dog’s enemy, all of us are that motherfucker. i never thought i’d be able to write anything longer than the great big map, which was a much simpler, linear story in which the other main character did not appear in the current timeline until like the eighth chapter. juno was different. juno was the motherfucker, and i was scared shitless of it, and to cope with that fear joked constantly while writing that it’d never see the light of day.

but it did. it was a rocky process, and i was awake for 48 hours after posting it because of the sheer adrenalin stuck in my skull, but i got through it. and i wouldn’t have been able to do it without june, who stepped in when i flopped over facedown on the floor and dragged me to my feet like the badass friend she is, and without everyone else in my life, who put up with me talking about The Thing that i couldn’t really talk about, but juno’s up there now. forever, or until the internet collapses and civilization goes extinct. and if the nineteen year old clown with the attention span of an ikea armchair and an a level certificate from hell wrote the 93,000 word long thing, so can you. i mean this completely unironically and with every ounce of genuine emotion i can summon from the cracked asshole of my heart.

writing is hard. writing is scary. writing is an investigation of the world around you and therefore, by extension, yourself, and that kind of honesty is freaky. it’s like going skinny-dipping next to the president’s mansion. who’s going to see you? what if they take a photo? what if you lose your spot at university?

but don’t think about that. our world is overrun with stories the way cereal bowls are full of cereal, but it’s those stories that keep us all sane in the disgusting day-to-day muck of reality, so think about your story. what’s haunting you today? what message do you want to leave printed in font size 666 comic sans across the southern hemisphere of the planet? what will you be tomorrow?

a writer. you’re going to be a motherfucking writer.

#my stuff

[mewtwo24]

Lucifer Meta

I‌ feel like I‌ keep seeing so much talk about this, and maybe its been said before, but given I‌ have too much time on my hands and I‌ can’t stop thinking about it, I felt the need to put it into words.

A lot of people have mentioned that, if you take a look at Lucifer’s dialogue in several scenes within both the MS‌ and several ES’s, he keeps harping on this insistent desire to be considered special by the MC. He doesn’t want to be another demon a dozen (I’m sorry I‌ know I’m cringing too), he doesn’t want to be just another hottie that got away or the story of ‘that crazy hot guy I‌ fucked and never saw again.’

Today I‌ want to get into the reason for that. (Also a note, I‌ will be using feminine pronouns for the MC but I‌ fully understand that the creators allude to non-binary identification, and don’t want to discourage anyone from that—I‌’m just working from how I‌ personally play.)

Now, I‌ think it can be pretty easy to just write it off as a product of pride. After all, pride does come hand in hand with the idea that you assume you are unique beyond measure, somebody that is without peer in the best meaning of that notion. And while I‌ do think Lucifer does have a great deal of confidence in some regards, I‌ don’t personally believe that’s the whole truth. I‌ feel like it’s more complicated than that. Honestly, it’s one of the reasons I‌ enjoy Obey Me so much; we all know the basic premise. Seven deadly sins yada yada yada, absolute dumpsterfire demon family of brothers yada yada yada. But I‌ feel like beyond that surface level there are some pretty alarming–if not downright profound–moments of humanity (for lack of a better term) that emerge in each of them.

With Lucifer, I‌ feel like this constant desperation for recognition is actually an acute reflection of both his reputation, and his lifelong history. And to explain why I‌ think this is true, I‌ need to reference a major spoiler from the MS. I’m going to assume everyone’s read the MS‌ to that point, but if not I’ve added a cut and added proper tags just in case. Please don’t read below if you haven’t gotten to Chapter (14-10)!

Okay y’all, you remember the scene where it’s revealed that Lucifer gave up his entire future as a demon to give Lilith a chance to be reborn and properly be with a person she loved as a human someday? I‌ want to start here, because I‌ feel like this is crucial to our understanding of Lucifer’s attraction to MC. One of the harder things about getting close to Lucifer is how tightly sealed he is. Call this demon Fort Knox, he’s never going to betray his true intentions or his true feelings unless he has a gun to his head. And the reasons for that are obvious (vulnerability?????‌ in m y me???? it’s less like than you think one more step and I‌ kill you–)‌ You can’t be the perfect caretaker or the perfect right hand to the most powerful being in your realm by betraying constant fluctuation in feeling. (Too bad he’s the most brittle motherfucker I’ve ever seen. But, I‌ digress.) Besides which, I imagine one of the many ways he kept himself from cracking and spilling his secret was to bury it in the sure silence of secrecy. He could significantly lower the threat of revealing the truth if he never, ever talked about it at length. He manifests capability and strength in the most classical/conservative forms of those words (and coincidentally, the ones most acceptable to the old school ‘canonic’ representations of christianity):‌ with stoicism, by refusing to show a single chink in the armor or an iota of oscillating warmth. True devotion to God means no signs of wavering; you are either with Him or against Him. You either follow the rules, or you don’t. (While I‌ understand this is not the case in many branches of the church, trust me when ‌I say the Orthodox community has not changed LMFAO)

The reason I‌ feel the need to create this basis is that it makes his looking to MC‌ for understanding makes so much more sense within that context. Think about it. MC‌ was, first and foremost, the only one to see the memory of him begging Diavolo to save Lilith. MC‌ saw him at the absolute lowest moment of his entire life. Having lost everything in the rebellion, with nothing and nowhere to call home, the very person he was devoted to protecting a casualty. The archangel of heaven, the most glorious and famous immortal in veritable history up to that point–without peer, without equal–lost. Imagine. A‌ being that never even entertained and could not fathom anything less than perfection and capability, was now faced with irrefutable evidence that he not only lost, but failed in the most devastating meaning of that word. Not only could he not prove his newfound conviction, he failed the very person that showed him what he needed to prove–the very person that deserved the fruits of his successful endeavor.

(And not only that, he gets zero time to grieve or process. He immediately has to bargain himself to essentially eternal servitude in order to give his sister just one chance at something she’s always dreamed of, and to protect the siblings most faithful to his cause–the ones to whom he feels most indebted. Let’s not forget growing accustomed to an entirely new way of life, learning how to exist as a demon and having to come to terms with so many changes–whether good or bad. Though knowing Lucifer, I‌ get the feeling change is an incredibly stressful thing for someone who was so accustomed to clear rules, order, and determinism. I’d wager it’s why he hinges so oddly on this notion that ‘demons are extreme creatures that cannot change, MC.’ While in some ways this does feel like scapegoating–and it is, the repressed fuck–I‌ think he does partially believe it to be true. He’s a demon now. Demon = a very powerful inclination to certain vices, and after having people like Diavolo confirm that information he truly believes it cannot be reduced. He just accepts that this is part of his new fate, no matter how frustrating. Me and MC’s modernist ass beg to differ, but given the lore suggests real differences between demons and humans I‌ can’t really speak confidently to which of us is most right. I‌ feel like the game does suggest at least a little potential to change or lessen those vices, but this is a bit of a digression from my main point.)

Second of all, think about her reaction. MC‌ hugs Lucifer immediately, so moved she embraces him even as he’s seconds from starting on a frustrated tirade. (This is how I interpreted that event, and that’s the choice I made--but even if you hit him, you’re showing a very real emotional reaction to Lucifer’s plight. I took both of those reactions to be a heated, heartbroken acknowledgement of what he’d been forced to sacrifice. Either a great deal of compassion, or angry grief that he would take on the weight of everything they’d lost alone--a reminder to think about himself first, too.) Her reaction to his sacrifice isn’t jaded mockery ‘LOL can’t believe you took the biggest L‌ imaginable for your baby sis who’s 6 feet under anyway.’ Her reaction isn’t a hardened heart, so angry with all of his lying and violent outbursts that she doesn’t give a damn (which honestly I‌ wouldn’t even blame her for being indifferent given some of the shit he’s pulled). Her reaction is a sincere appreciation that his heart could be so tender, that he could care so deeply for just one sweet angel that he would risk everything to defend her. (Even if he had other reasons, he expressly says that Lilith was the catalyst.)

I want to take a moment to link back to earlier. That’s what’s so key about Lucifer. He was supposed to be the perfect angel. Unsullied, untainted. Completely devoted to the rules of heaven, so well-versed and immovable in those ideals that even Diavolo had no shortage of admiration for him–was equally desperate to have him in his service after the fall. But Lucifer proves to be, by some perceptions, broken. He is not the perfect angel that everyone lauded without end, that was Daddy dearest’s pride and joy.

He cared. He cared about Lilith and his fellow angels and even humanity, no matter how foolish or ridiculous or foolhardy it seemed–to the point of waging war against everything and everyone he’s ever known. While I‌ can’t speak to what it was that changed him so greatly, I‌ have to wonder if it was, in fact, love. Lilith risked everything to protect the human man she had fallen in love with, wanted nothing more than to have a little family and protect that which was so dear to her. Was Lucifer moved by that…?‌ Did Lucifer find himself wanting something similar?‌ Or at the very least, wanted angels and humans to have the right to choose?

In truth, I‌ really can’t be sure. But I‌ still think it’s crucial that Lilith’s choice was the motivating factor of his change; he saw that someone could earn a love so deep it would inspire a sacrifice beyond reason. And that MC‌ saw him at his most vulnerable–at his most personal–reflecting the very behavior he’d learned from Lilith and saw the same exact thing that he did:‌ beauty. MC understood that moment as something to be cherished, something that proved a staggering capacity for compassion. And not only that, she felt a great deal of sympathy. Sure she’s probably never made a sacrifice that big before, but so much of being mortal is sacrifice. So much of being human is seeing that which is bigger than yourself, is seeing a loved one who needs you, and giving what you can. As such, it was a moment of resonance–it was a moment that proved his capacity for good in human and grounded terms, no matter how cranky or closed off or repressed.

(Also y’all because I‌ have to say it. THE ELLIPSIS. THE FACT THAT HE JUST REVELS IN THE HUG FOR A SOLID FEW MINUTES, JUST SOAKING UP THE AFFECTION. I DIE SOMEBODY PLEASE HUG THIS OVERWORKED, TOUCH-STARVED, MISERABLE FOOL I LOVE HIM.)

Granted, Lucifer did show signs of intrigue towards the MC‌ from the getgo, but most of them were wooden. Curious on a very surface level, more like ‘this human really is deranged huh what a weirdo’ than necessarily BANGS POTS AND PANS ‘I L O V E THIS H U M A N’. And that, for me, is key. I‌ have to wonder if he doesn’t feel comfortable showing skin or getting too close to people in any kind of way because they don’t really know him.

This is what I’m getting at.

The hard thing about pride is that most pride worth any salt comes from a firm center of confident knowledge about one’s own ability. And if there is anything this game tries to get us to understand, it’s that Lucifer is in many regards a workaholic wiz. He never stops going, never stops trying to be the best older brother and second hand to Diavolo the realm has ever seen. (For those of you that argue he’s a shit older brother, I‌ 100% agree he’s a dingus about expressing it properly but I‌ don’t think he’s a bad brother. His home screen lines are 90% him expressing his worries about being unable to connect to and help his brothers. That is not an apathetic guardian. That’s a tender idiot doing his best.) But his greatest strength is also his greatest weakness, the very thing that keeps him up at night literally and figuratively.

What if the people in his life only want him there because he’s so amazing and so capable–makes their lives so much easier–that it doesn’t really matter who’s getting the work done? What if he’s ultimately just a tool again? Just another thing to throw away when he’s no longer useful enough to be kept close? What if nobody loves him for just…him?

This is where it really starts to hurt. Thanks, God.

And that’s why he’s so enamored of the MC. It’s not just that she takes his feelings seriously, it’s not just that she’s equally stubborn and willful and cheeky. I think, more than anything, it’s because she saw who he was at his core–an angel that lost everything and sold what little he had left to make the most precious person in his life happy–and loved him all the more for it. She didn’t see it as a weakness to take advantage of, she didn’t see it as a weakness period.

She saw it as a place to build. She shows him that vulnerability doesn’t have to mean danger and endless anguish. She shows him that in this new world he’s inhabiting–where everyone is flawed, where everyone is limited–it’s only natural to have points that are less than logical or conventionally/perfectly defensible. She stands firm that–while he may have been a bit of a dickwad–that act was still noble, and that he would have to share this with his brothers if they were ever to mend the relationships that were smashed to smithereens in the aftermath of the war. Lilith could be a place of commonality from which they could all bond, and evidence of his compassion–rather than God’s judgement that it was a contemptible flaw.

Because at the end of the day, that’s what his repression of feeling is. It’s not just fear of being mocked by his brothers (though that’s definitely part of it). It’s the literal, staggering PTSD‌ of that moment where everything changed, where he made the ‘wrong’ decision in choosing love and freedom. Not only proof of his being less than perfect, it was the moment his creator abandoned him completely–the moment his creator sought his unilateral and uncompromising destruction over a disagreement. Lucifer is afraid of opening his heart because he’s afraid that, in the end? He’ll devote himself down to the marrow only to find out he was being used the whole time. He isn’t being loved because they see both his shortcomings and his impressive qualities and develop affection anyway, he’s being ‘loved’ because he’s useful to them–and so long as that continues, he’ll continue receiving empty praise meant to motivate him into complacence. This is why Diavolo’s moe pining and compliments mean jack shit to him. Because Lucifer can never be sure it’s not just another selfish power play, because Lucifer can’t trust that Diavolo’s affection comes from a place beyond motivating an unquestioning, relentless work ethic/loyalty. (I fully admit I‌ don’t think Diavolo necessarily means that much harm, but I also don’t think Lucifer is wrong to be wary given how evidently capricious Diavolo is…)

But yeah. MAJOR‌ Daddy and vulnerability issues.

Which is what makes his line “Who knew a human like you would stir this kind of feeling in me?” so fucking ironic to me. Really, Lucifer?‌ The calls are coming from i n s i d e. The defining moment of your life was the most altruistic, humanlike act a celestial creature could ever commit. Why are you so surprised, then, that a human could unlock the depths of your heart?‌ To the contrary, perhaps it is only a human-–that doesn’t have any desire for power or illusions of perfection—that could quiet the anxiety lodged deep inside his heart. She helps him come to terms with and nurture these feelings of love not just because she’s understanding and patient, but because her motivations are not mercenary or interested in prestige. MC’s just here to have a good time and wants to see them all get along together, and who could be more compatible for the demon that has little to no notion of freedom or how to mend the family he gave up everything for?

(Also an interesting side note, it may also explain why Lucifer can relax around the MC so thoroughly as time goes on. Because she herself tends to be more relaxed, he too begins to fully embody an existence where the stakes aren’t always in the stratosphere; he can be silly and tired and needy without fear of a cold reprisal or invasive curiosity. He can just be himself in peace, and that’s all he really wants more than anything.)

#obey me #obey me one master to rule them all #obey me lucifer #obey me meta #obey me spoilers #catch me in my fucking lucifer feels YET AGAIN #this is what happens when im left alone to think good lordt #its just been eating at me since the reveal and its only now that ive been able to properly put my finger on why he kills me so bad #its even funnier bc at the beginning i was so like #what do you want you asshole boomer #and now im just #'is anyone going to hold that sad idiot demon who literally can't practice self-care for more than three seconds at a time?' #and then i dont wait for an answer HJKLFHD #all the other brothers: whoa man you didnt have to take it on all on your own-- #me and beel: BRING IT IN YOU FUCKING SADSACK I L Y #evidently two kinds of people/demons

[minaminokyoko]

Men in Black: International--A Spoilertastic Review

Disclaimer: I AM FUCKING BIASED AS HELL.

Ahem.

That's important to announce.

If you at all follow me, you know I am one of the harshest critics of fiction simply because I do this shit for a living professionally, so not only do I know what to look for, I know when I'm being duped.

I knew going in that MIBI was going to be bad.

But.

I fucking love Chris Hemsworth and Tessa Thompson.

So here's the thing: this is a bad, lazy sequel. It's no worse than just your average bad, lazy sequel to a beloved franchise. You've seen these kinds of movies a dozen times and you'll see them a dozen more.

And I think the people making the movie knew that, and that's why they hired Hems and Tessa.

Damn near every moment of these two darlings together is fun as hell.

And everything else is basically trash.

Therefore, it's a battle between my critic brain and my goblin brain.

My critic brain hates the movie. My goblin brain thinks it was harmless fun. So please take that into account for my overall opinion on the flick.

So here we go. Naturally, spoiler alert.

Overall Grade: C-

Pros:

-Let my shallow ass get this out of the way first: DEAR FUCKING GOD CHRIS HEMSWORTH IS A MOTHERFUCKING WALKING, TALKING BUFFET GOOD LORD AND ALL HIS ANGELS HE IS JUST BREAKFAST, LUNCH, DINNER, AND FUCKING DESSERT AND I WANT HIM TO JUST SLAM ME AGAINST EVERY WALL IN THIS HOUSE AND TEAR ME APART HE IS WALKING AROUND IN A FUCKING SUIT THE ENTIRE MOVIE AND HE JUST. LOOKS. SO. FUCKING. DELICIOUS. IT'S. NOT. FAIR. THAT SMILE AND THOSE EYES AND HIS CHIN AND HIS PECS AND HIS ABS AND HIS LEGS AND HIS ARMS AND JUST FUCKING BURY ME IN THE DESERT FOREVER BECAUSE I WANT HIM SO BAD KILL ME DO IT. THE THIRST IS REAL AND IT SHALL NEVER BE QUENCHED.

-Ahem. There. Now then, literally the biggest and only selling point in this movie is the insanely good chemistry between Tessa Thompson and Chris Hemsworth. It's damn near as good as them in Thor: Ragnarok. As I said above, I really think the filmmakers took one look at this "script" and they knew goddamn well they had nothing at all. It's dripping with cliches and tired ass ideas and lack of imagination, so they knew the only way to get it made was to have two utterly charming actors who play extremely well off each other, and that is Tessa and Hems. These two are having such a good time that you actually can't help but have a good time despite the fact that you are watching a completely LAZY fucking movie. Agent M and Agent H aren't fully formed characters at all, but their interactions are a sheer delight. They play off each other beautifully and even when the movie is vomiting yet another cliche at your feet, you can't help but still enjoy the two of these doofs. It's the movie's only saving grace. I shit you not, if it were any other pair of actors, I would give this movie an F. No lie. Tessa and Hems saved the film, hands down, no contest, because they're charming and cute and you want them to be together. It's like the movie is a shit-covered diamond--the shit is everything around them, and Tessa and Hems are the diamond in the shit. You gotta stick your hand in something gross to get the valuable thing out of it, and it is for this reason I would tell people to just rent this movie. It's so not worth box office pricing, but it is worth a look-see because the two of them are a blast to watch, honestly. And do yourself a favor and look up some of their interviews too. They are cute as a button together.

-The only creativity that I saw was the faux villains and the final Hive monster, basically, but said creativity was eye-catching. It was a unique concept to see these sort of celestial beings and they were captivating each time they were on screen. Their powers were very, very cool. The final Hive monster is nothing new if, like me, you watch or play a lot of video games, but it did still have a great presence and felt extremely alien and threatening and scary.

Cons:

-Literally everything else about this movie blows. Fucking. Everything.

-The dialogue for the most part is tired. It's so tired. It's loaded with dull one-liners. Sometimes I think scripts mistake quips with actual jokes. These characters have almost nothing of interest to say in the whole film, and mind you, I do know that sounds like it makes no sense, but it's true. Almost every interesting thing about these characters is off-screen. Seriously. The backstories sound way more interesting than what's presented, and do you know why? Because this fucking movie TELLS YOU EVERYTHING. There is almost NO showing. It doesn't hit any emotional bits. It just loudly announces them like my favorite bit from Futurama: "You can't just have your characters announce how they feel! That makes me feel angry!" That's the biggest problem here. There are Captain Obvious statements fucking everywhere, and what's worse is any emotional beats of connection are also loudly announced in cliche fashions and there's almost no weight given to M or H as characters as a result. It's just noise. Most of the dialogue in the movie is white noise you don't at all need to hear.

-All the cool shit about M and H is withheld. We understand M's motivations just fine, but H's are not dealt with, and that's frustrating because he seems to be fascinating offscreen. For example, being the dude that saved the world might be big shoes to fill and he seems as if he was having trouble coping, or he got a big head from the experience and got sloppy because he was the golden boy. In the hands of an actual competent writer, this could have really, really worked well. But they skip over it. Over and over again, this lazy ass movie skips shit we should have seen, like M growing up trying to tell everyone what she saw and being ridiculed. I wanted to see her long search for MIB. I wanted to see her learning to hack and investigate like Harriet the Spy or something. It could have been a great, compelling way to feel like I understood her, because I would have been the same way. I love that H was just a big old goober, playboy with a heart of gold, and I wanted to see the two of them get closer than they did. H's "big old heart" speech was hella charming. So charming. I like that soft smile he gives her when he talks about the universe being one big chemical reaction. That was a real moment, and sadly, it's one of the few we get with the two of them because the movie is in such a rush to get to the next action sequence. But, hey, if I'm being honest, I only saw this movie so I had full permission to write a zillion fanfic chapters shipping them, so I will just bloody fill the gaps in myself.

-This movie is so goddamn fucking predictable it gave me a headache. Hey, remember the trailer? Well, there. You saw the movie if you saw the trailer. You're sitting there going, "They can't possibly be this boring and transparent about Liam Neeson being the bad guy, can they?" Yep. They fucking can. It is so obvious that I would argue this might be an MIB movie for kids. The whole thing spoonfeeds you every bit of info. There is no mystery and no surprises period. It makes you want to bang your head on a wall with how obvious every single story beat is.

-The ending is nonsensical bullshit. There, I said it. Fuck you, movie. You don't get to try for the emotional wham of separating the partners because you didn't properly make them fucking partners. J and K's bittersweet ending made sense because the two of them went through HELL together, and while they bickered, they liked each other. The other thing is that their skillsets matched their actions at the end. K was exasperated and tired, but he was a good teacher and he knew J loved the job. J was the job, and that fit his character. K had been through years and years of battles, and he needed to rest, and that fit his character. Slapping H with the role of director does not fit his character. We see him as a rough and tumble cowboy type of agent. He parties and he smiles and he kicks ass. What the fuck about that makes you think he should be in charge when Agent C is like right there? I actually sat there waiting to see if they had a post credit scene that undid it because it made NO SENSE. The only reason they busted up the partners was an attempt to echo the original movie. That's fucking it. There is no reason that Agent M can't stay in London, and there is no reason Agent H would accept the leadership position when he's all about fun times and explosions. It's a load of crock and I do not accept it at all, so you'll see me rewrite that shit in fanfics as well.

-All of the above adds up to the final point that this is definitely an unworthy sequel to the original. Not MIB 2 or 3, mind you. I hated MIB 2 so much it made me not watch MIB 3, and from what I hear, MIB 3 was marginally better but still not good. The movie is doing new things, and yet it feels a lot like a small child trying on his dad's shoes, for God's sake. It literally stops entire scenes to fellate the original movie with cameos and borrowed plotpoints or references, and it takes you out of the experience. There's nothing unique about this movie except for who is starring in it. That's the tragic part. I had a good time, but in the end, it just reminds you how far we've fallen and why Sonnenfeld should have been the one to handle this sequel. He had a very, very sharp creative mind and that's why MIB is in its own category as an action-comedy. It was clever and interesting and it actually made you care about your leads, and it didn't rely on nothing but a cliche storm. So I am sad that it's not going to do well at the box office and I'm sad it wasted two extremely talented actors on a sad, boring project that isn't worthy of the name it's using, but at the same time, I signed up for this, so oh well.

In the end, this is a movie that would be intolerable but it's got two strong leads that keep you smiling anyway. I cannot recommend it at all unless you are a die-hard Hems and Tessa fan the way that I am. If you are, hey, you'll still be annoyed at how lazy it is, but you'll get a giggle out of them being cute as hell. There are raw materials in this movie that are in fact good, but it's all carried out sloppily as possible, and that's truly a shame.

Here's to all the fanfiction my stupid ass is about to write.

Kyo out.

#men in black #men in black international #MIBI #tessa thompson #chris hemsworth #spoiler alert #spoilers #movie review #film review

[allthefilmsiveseenforfree]

Crawl

Hurricanes? Scary. Alligators? Scary. Put em together and you’ve got a damn solid premise for a creature feature action/horror movie. Hayley (Kaya Scodelario) is going to check on her dad (Barry Pepper) during a severe hurricane because she and her sister haven’t heard from him even though everyone has been ordered to evacuate. When she gets to the house (after an ominous sign warning of an alligator farm nearby), she discovers her dad bleeding and unconscious in the crawl space below the house...and he’s not alone. I mean, that’s some solid shit, right? Pretty difficult to mess that up, wouldn’t you think? Well...

Thankfully, yeah, it is hard to mess up and director Alexandre Aja does a perfectly fine job of keeping the tension high, the sequences scary, and injecting enough human heart into the proceedings that you actually give a damn about the characters. All in all, this is a job well done.

Some thoughts:

The main purpose of this movie is to encourage people not to fuck around with hurricanes, and also to personally target me and my foolish attempt to tempt fate by visiting Florida semi-annually to see Wife’s family. The gators are gonna get me, y’all, and honestly I probably deserve it for my hubris and presumption.

So she’s a swimmer for the Florida Gators swim team. And her dad/swim coach motivates her by telling her she’s an apex predator. A little heavy handed on the foreshadowing here, don’t you think?

Remember when Barry Pepper was in everything? He can still get it. 

This sequence of her driving through the blockade to get to her dad’s house feels like a Jeep commercial, the product placement feels very intense.

Ok, as soon as you see this dog (named Sugar!) I’m sure you’re thinking what I thought which was, “oh shit this dog is gonna die” because in horror movies, the dogs die. BUT! I am so happy to report that this film goes by action movie rules, meaning the dog lives!! She is perfect and very helpful and a sweet angel and no harm comes to her other than, you know, a bit of a stressful day.

The movie is a tight 87 minutes, because it knows what you want to see. You want to see gators. All the pre-gator parts of the movie move along pretty briskly to get to that sweet, sweet gator action. That being said, the pre-gator part also suffers from a general lack of...urgency? Maybe it’s just that Kaya Scodelario works best when she has something perilous to work with (be that the gators or her tumultuous daddy issues). The setup scenes where she’s driving to her dad’s house and monologuing to the dog is cringe city, not least of all because she’s not keeping her eyes on the road when she’s driving in a motherfucking hurricane!

One of the things I appreciate most about this movie is that the characters are industrious and for the most part pretty smart. It makes it much easier to root for them when they’re grabbing makeshift weapons, treating their own wounds as best they can, and using strategic maneuvers to avoid the alligators. There’s really only one “GIRL WHAT ARE YOU DOING” moment and it could be forgiven due to wanting to take advantage of cell phone signal while she had it. Since the rest of her actions were pretty smart, I’m willing to give her a pass on one. 

Can I just say, after last year’s The Hurricane Heist, I am loving this trend of movie genres + hurricane to create a whole new genre. Now that we have monster movie + hurricane, let’s expand the horizons to include even more options. Buddy cop movie + hurricane. Period costume drama + hurricane. Broadway musical + hurricane. The possibilities are endless!

The movie really hits its stride when Scodelario and Pepper are finally reunited, and the tension and bickering between them feels very real. They don’t have a lot of time but Michael and Shawn Rasmussen’s script goes a long way to establish some real family drama and resolve it in a cathartic way before the movie’s end. A lot of that heavy lifting is done by Pepper as a headstrong and stubborn estranged dad, but the chemistry between both actors is top notch.

I always think about the filming conditions for things like this, and this must have just been a nightmare to shoot. They’re underwater for SO MUCH of this movie, and there are quite a few stunts and action effects that had to be coordinated, especially with the fake alligators. The finished product is honestly very impressive.

As for the gators - holy shit these gators! You guys. I know they’re CGI, but these gators don’t feel over-the-top ridiculous. This isn’t The Meg. These are just normal size (read: huge) gators going about their lives tryin to find a snack. And they are fucking TERRIFYING. I’m drawing a line in the sand here - and I don’t care how controversial you might think this is, I’m gonna say it - don’t fuck with gators.

There is some very realistic body horror happening.

I would definitely call it more of an action movie than a horror movie, but there are quite a few jump scares because these alligators are SNEAKY and can just pop up anywhere.

THERE IS ALSO A SCENE WITH SPIDERS ON HER FACE I WANT TO DIE JUST LET THE GATORS TAKE ME NOW THIS IS MY NIGHTMARE.

One thing I was somewhat confused by - they show this in the trailer, so it’s not a spoiler. At one point Haley discovers alligator eggs that have clearly recently hatched, and it makes you think oh shit now there are gonna be even more alligators everywhere but we never actually see any? There’s a shot of one teeny bby gator coming out of an egg, but other than that, nothing. It feels like the setup for something that never delivered. The only thing I could think was that if this is the territory where they’re laying eggs, the momma gators will be more protective, and thus more aggressive. But I mean...did we have to make them MORE aggressive? I hear “abandoned house + hurricane floodwaters + escaped alligators” I’m not gonna be like “But wait, would they really be trying to attack people?” Say no more, man - my disbelief is suspended.

I have to confess though, the strategy of saying, “Alligators hunt by detecting splashes, so NO SPLASHES,” while sound, is a line that made me laugh.

At one point the eye of the hurricane passes over them (obviously) and Wife leaned over to me and started singing, “In the eye of a hurricane there is quiet for just a moment” from Hamilton and then about 30 seconds later, “I splashed my way out” and that really took a lot of the bite out of that one of the big final escape sequences of the film.

Did I Cry? I teared up a tiny bit. Dad-daughter stuff just gets me right in the heart. I’m a sap, what can I say.

Honestly, this is really solid fare from start to finish. You could easily enjoy this film on Redbox, but there’s something to be said about the immersive, incredibly stressful experience of cutting off all distractions and focusing on a 90-minute adventure like this in a theater. Wife said she has literally never been more stressed, and that’s pretty much the best endorsement you can get for a movie like this.

If you liked this review, please consider reblogging or subscribing to my Patreon! For as low as $1, you can access bonus content and movie reviews, or even request that I review any movie of your choice.

#119in2019 #crawl #crawl movie #crawl 2019 #kaya scodelario #barry pepper #alexandre aja #movie reviews #film reviews #horror movies

[cherettes]

the hitchhiker’s guide to getting shit done

so, when i’m lounging about and then my laptop screen blacks out to reveal my shame-filled reflection in an inky black pool of you-sat-down-to-write-and-now-you-haven’t-moved-for-twenty-minutes, my expression looks to itself and seems to mutter, “put up or shut up.” and... sometimes that works. other times I have to leave and pour a water bottle over my head and turn on Fall Out Boy really loud to try and motivate myself. sometimes that doesn’t even work and then i’m cold and tired for no reason.

i see these posts all the time about “calling yourself a writer when u ain’t touched a pen in ya life” or “man i love being a writer... should would like to write someday” and stuff. they’re all so fucking relatable i’m making a sticker out of one to put on my laptop. it’s all so true. 

sometimes (an unfortunate amount of the time), writing can be like putting a space shuttle on your shoulders. so... as someone with a backpack full of executive dysfunction and 8 other textbooks, here’s how i get writing done -- even on the worst days.

okay firstly always have something to write with. notepad on your phone? cool. handy journal? trendy. legal pad in your front pocket? very Daniel Handler. i dig it. just as long as you have something to be able to scribble on whenever those finite, golden moments of inspiration/motivation hit you like Valentine’s goddamn arrow. the second you notice the motivation is there, it’ll be gone, so don’t be afraid to get shit done (no matter how small, no matter if it’s one thought or one sentence, just a thought or an idea) while you can. i deadass stopped a meeting with a financial aid officer because something he said hit me like a tonne of bricks, and all i could think was “oh jesus, i have to write that down.” and then i couldn’t stop. i knew if i didn’t get everything down right then, i wouldn’t be able to maybe ever, which wasn’t a fate I particularly wanted for myself.

he was kind about it, thankfully. i didn’t even end up going to that school. 

what you can do with your notes is separate them by any category you like -- i keep my notes separate by POV, for example. also, title the note. don’t forget that part. it’s the only way you’ll know what the fuck’s going on. i keep one note for all my story ideas (it’s about 11 miles long, but at least they’re all in one place!), one note for character names/traits/tropes/ideas... and then drafts are separated by POV. it literally doesn’t matter when or where I get the inspiration, as long as I’m able to get something, anything, down... you’ve done something. you’ve put your foot on the next stair step, and while lifting your weight’s the hardest part, you’ve still made progress. 

you don’t need to have it so fleshed out you can fork it like a steak. you can take time to develop it. the more you practice and absorb the world around you as things you can output into your own universes, the better a writer you become. this leads me to my next point.

secondly, and this is so fucking important, absorb content like a writer.  as you watch something for the first time, critically analyze it. why is the story being told this way, why from this POV, why these details and not others, where could this be going? what would you have done as a writer here, why do you think the creator/s made these decisions (differently than you would, if at all)? authors don’t do anything without purpose, so how can what i’ve seen and learned thus far tell me about the future of this story? what tropes am I familiar with that can be applied here, and what do I know about these characters?

Why are these characters this way? Are they fleshed out, can I hold mental conversations with them? What makes them so 3-D? What can I take from this depth (or lack thereof) and apply it to my own creations?

I’ve been doing that shit for so long. The reason it helps me actually sit down and write, though, is because... okay, like, you know when you leave a pitch-black movie theatre after seeing a production that poked and prodded at your guts a little to hard? you know how blinding and unnerving it is to return to this reality? that feeling. poke and prod at it harder. why are you feeling like that? what about what you just saw/read/whatever is making you feel so skinless? because that’s material. 

i’m not telling you to, like, exploit yourself for content. that’s not what it’s about. i’m saying that if you take realistic depth from your own life, from things that are impactful, you need to understand what happened to make it so impactful and genuine. every grain of rice. that way you can take it and apply that very same authenticity to whatever you’re creating. give yourself familiar language to write down when you have those experiences, and then return to them when you’re lost in the sticky pitch of writer’s apathy. relive those words and moments, and use them for your gain. 

my roommate planted me on the sofa to watch Coco for the first time a few months ago, and I sat there and told myself, “I’m going to dissect this as it happens.” and do it with everything. everything. commercials, even. it doesn’t matter without that tactic, i would have never 1) come up with the ideas for my first two novels and 2) had something to work with from the beginning. world-building is fucking hard, okay, don’t be afraid to draw inspiration from other places. it was also particularly fun to watch their face as I guessed plot twists.

that’s another thing -- you can start to see why/how creators implement their ideas and what it means for the future of their story. it doesn’t mean they’re being shallow or predictable, it just means they’re developing an arc in a way that allows readers and viewers to be able to inject themselves into the universe. You’re no longer sitting in a living room and just... watching a separate life play out before you. You like... become Miguel’s meta-conscience. And with those new experiences in someone else’s reality/ies, you can pull it like a blood sample for your own. there’s no shame in being inspired.

as a side note... there’s no shame in struggling to pull ideas/inspiration from content. for me, barely anything gets me worked up to the point of “i want to remember this/use this/etc.” it’s not the content’s fault and it’s not my fault, it just happens. if you’re really struggling, return to something you know evokes something out of you. i’ve watched the same television series eleven or twelve times to pull ideas, because it gets me every time. every time, i find something new to hang on to. content can be analyzed endlessly, so don’t be afraid!

thirdly, don’t pay attention to progress that others make. can’t stress that enough. this day and age treats everything like a competition, where if you’re not the best then why try at all, where the success of others is somehow inherently your failure. it’s such bullshit i can’t even begin. having a multitude of societal deterrents in your head isn’t helping you.

sure, habits don’t go quietly into that good night, but here’s how it can help you... well, as my brain is helpfully supplying, “keep the stork flying.” it’s like a blinking neon sign. anyway.

one, return to your notes and your ideas. they’re all your own. no one can take them from you. you’re the only one who can develop them the way that you intend, with the way you want to tell the story, with the meaning that you’ve given them and want to portray. you’re the only one who can do that. even if your friends or family or peers are writers and they’re making the progress that you feel like you’re lacking, then just remember: you’re the only one who can write your story. it’s yours. it’s yours. if you’re not ready to write it, that’s okay. that’s okay. but if you are, if you want to sit down and write it more than anything else, then you can return to your notes. always look back at them. and build on what you have. 

if you’ve juiced them to pulp, reflect on what happens before and after what you’ve written. nothing has to be linear, it doesn’t have to be directly before and after. if you intend for a moment you’ve created to have a specific impact at any other given point, then elaborate on what impact it’ll have and maybe draft that. fill in the gaps when you want to, not when you’re forcing yourself to. if you do that, you won’t produce anything you’re proud of, and you’ll inevitably start over anyway. if you’re not ready to give it everything, then maybe come back to it later. if you’re determined to write right now even if your brain feels like it’s just crawled out of a swamp wearing a wet blanket, see if you can turn that feeling into something that can be reflected/have influence on your story. is there any situation that could reflect the mood you’re in?

two, it... man, saying this makes me hurt, but use your own experience with being discouraged and put off as inspiration for something a character faces. who cares if it’s self projection. if you’re going through it, someone else is going through it, and maybe they’ll read what was originally a chicken-scratch in the back of your notebook one day, about how shitty you feel for not being able to make progress. maybe they’ll read it and be so fucking relieved they’re not alone in this... void, really, that it alleviates their discomfort. isn’t that kinda worth it?

fourthly, when you feel like shit, write it down. when you feel it, write it down. i know i kind of chipped off layers of this in previous points, but I wasn’t done. 

people like relatable characters. people like seeing themselves in external works. not because we’re shallow, or... anything. it’s because we like to feel like we belong, like we’re not alone. you see it all the time -- headcanons! you see it everywhere. you’ve probably made up your own. you’re doing it for a damn reason. pull from it. 

exhibit a: i have OCD something foul. a facet of that is that i ruminate like a motherfucker. my brain never gets anything done. you know who else experiences that? a startling amount of other people. when I write characters who ruminate, who check endlessly, who find themselves scrabbling over contamination, who... are completely aware how exhaustive their habits are on them, but they fucking have to, because otherwise, x/y/z horrible, horrible thing is going to happen... it’s because i’ve dealt with those things. it’s because i know people who deal with those things, and find relief in seeing fictional characters experience it. because they’re not alone. because someone else gets it. because it helps them feel better. because it’s so immeasurably impactful to see it. 

so when... i have a thought spiral, i start ruminating, i start shaking because i try to only lock my car door three times instead of four, i write it down. and let myself deal with it in the notepad of my phone. and... use it.

exhibit b: some of the greatest and brightest people in my life are transgender and/or gay. i can list so many characters they’ve since penned on those spectrums in the time I’ve known each of them. it’s the same thing i mentioned before. if you’re... like, struggling with something specific to those identities, to something specific with your mental illness or financial situation, to your race or religion, write it down. use it in your stories. only you can provide those insights, and when others see them, they’ll be able to take them in for benefit. 

self-projection unto your own characters/favorite characters isn’t always a bad thing. i refuse to accept that self-projection is a negative thing. it’s good for you and for your readers. my only recommendation here is that you don’t intentionally continue to carve out those negative feelings when you’re drained, because you can end up hurting yourself. take care of yourself first. your work can wait. just take this:

standing closer to the fire doesn’t mean you should be burned. 

fifth, writing is just a slow ass process. asking to speed it up is like asking the earth to spin faster. Stephen King said some bullshit on Colbert about how he writes a shit tonne of words every day, and I don’t believe it for a second. it always takes a horrid amount of time to make progress, and getting yourself to make that process in the first place is... fucking drawing blood from a stone. like some Excalibur-level shit.

so, if you can’t make it go faster, make it go for longer. 

i wish i was talking about just having Google Docs open in a tab while you idly scroll social media sites all night. if writing happened that way... i don’t even want to dream it. 

i used to do this thing where everyday was 500 words. it didn’t matter what kind of words (rough drafting, planning, or actually revising... sometimes literally just “i know i want to use this word later, so i’m putting it at the bottom of the document”), but as long as there was 500 more to count, i could count that as definable and measurable progress. if i did that every single day, every week was a new 3500 words for me to work with. that made at least 14,000 words a month minimum. it was progress. 

it doesn’t have to be rushed or done all in one sitting, either. i almost recommend that none of those 500 words be your final draft. leave it rough. revision is worth taking your time. 

if you’re like me though and that sweet, sweet executive function bakes you like a cake on a regular basis, sometimes forcing that 500 out of yourself is hard (read: “fucking impossible, why do i even call myself a writer, jesus christ”).

so here’s my remedy for that: address your audience as you write. not for a final draft or anything, but if you make yourself as a writer or a character break the fourth wall, it’s suddenly... kind of hilarious and easier to move on with. nothing has to be beautiful, either -- write one sentence about what you’re planning to do, beginning with something ridiculous like “all right motherfuckers, buckle up. no, buckle your fucking seat belt, i’m about to tell you how [x]’s car gets totaled on a Tennessee highway.” and write it like you’re ripping someone a new one. then make it pretty. maybe not in the same day, but you’ll make it pretty. 

that not working? make your character tell the future. how would they react if they knew what was about to happen to them? make them tell the story like it happened 20 years ago, or something. and then take out all the insights to make it present. 

that not working, either? act like you’re being interviewed. like, let’s say your content is soon to be released to the public, you’re at a convention to promote it, and people are asking you about it as you stand at your booth. suddenly, you’re pulling a Tom Holland and accidentally giving something away that... maybe wasn’t supposed to be out yet. only write your part of the dialogue/situation, though. you’ll have a scene scribbled before you. even if you don’t particularly like it right then, you can fix it later. it’s okay.

you can always fix it down the road. that’s the thing, too -- if there’s something you’re unhappy with in it’s current form, make it a problem for yourself. if you’re able to attach some urgency to it, maybe that’ll help too. you don’t have to have the one perfect solution immediately, either. just brainstorm solutions in your notes, and something will fall into place one of these days. trust me.

on a side note but equally important: i say used to do this because sometimes you need to take breaks. sometimes those 500 words everyday was overdoing it and wringing the dry sponge of my mental capacity for the day. it’s still a practice i hold dear to my heart -- but right now i’m in a place where 50 words a day is miraculous. sometimes life’s that way, and there’s no shame in that. take care of yourself first, and push yourself when you’re ready.

also, be your own devil’s advocate and your own greatest cheerleader. 

don’t let yourself think poorly about what you’re creating, that’s not what I mean. you have great ideas and they’re worthwhile, they’re important. they are. i promise. what i mean is that... like. if being talked to in an aggressive way gets you hyped, then that’s how you get hyped to write. if you like being given generous validation, then that’s how you get hyped to write.

me, i like it when people validate what i work on. it makes me feel excited and good enough to write and produce content when people tell me they like it. some people have to be told they “can’t do something” to find the drive to do it -- that’s the “devil’s advocate” part. sometimes you’re the kind of person who can give yourself those messages but have to receive the positive kind from others.

i always imagine my ideal self on the other side of a boxing ring taunting me, my current self, that i’ll never get to my ideal-self’s level. they tell me to “put up or shut up,” otherwise i’ll never get there. so that’s what i have to do. i can’t have anyone else do that, though. that’s just an example.

there’s a billion rearrangements of this idea to make it work for you. maybe giving yourself encouragement -- or, like, imagining it coming from someone you deeply admire -- could help. maybe it’s the reverse situation, with the reproach. once you find it... fucking squeeze it until it’s not helpful anymore. if it’s not helpful in the first place, then you haven’t found the right language yet. if words don’t help you at all, work on your bite instead of the bark. what actions get you going instead of words? 

and maybe this tip is completely meaningless for you. that’s okay too. i just figured i would include it because it helps me, so maybe... it’ll help someone else, too.

maybe lastly... do you know how many creators quit working on their content and made unbidden returns to it? Jordan Peele wasn’t sure Get Out would ever be finished because he quit working on it 20 times, and now he’s got an Oscar for it. James Patterson is a worldwide bestselling author, and he dropped out of Vanderbilt’s writing program. JK Rowling was famously rejected by a dozen-or-so agencies before someone gave Sorcerer’s Stone a chance. you can fucking do this. i believe in you, even if you don’t. it’s gonna take time and maybe it’s gonna suck, but you can do this.

like, maybe this guide wasn’t helpful in the slightest. that’s fine. it happens! if that’s the case and you need encouragement or anything, you can always hit me up, too. i’ll listen and offer what i can, because sometimes having a shoulder is what you need, too.

take it from someone who ended up backing out of a book deal at Harper Collins. you can do this.

#writing tip #tips for writers #writer's block #writing help #writing inspiration #inspiration #ideas #help for writers #writing tips

[tommyhagen]

Sick Doms is SUCH an underused trope!!!

I was asked to write a companion peice to an incredible rare gem I found on AO3. The original is here. Sick Negan you guys! Here’s my response on AO3 too: Rick takes care of sick!Negan

But here it is on here. Also SERIOUSLY send me asks for scenes! I whipped this out in a couple of hours like seriously give me some happiness and ask me to write you a sickfic???

TW: Emetophilia, Vomit, Graphic Depiction Of Illness, Reference to Violence, dipping into true moments of darkness

—————————————————-

Ever fall in love with someone you shouldn’t have fallen in love with? —Buzzcocks

“Well, will you look at that! Rick motherfucking Grimes!”, Negan crowed. He’d started the day feeling alright, managed to keep some shit down and all but the drive over had not helped. End of the fucking world, not a damn soul on the road and the idiots working for him still managed to be bad drivers.

Rick, as always, stood ready and at the gates, glare in place before Negan even got out of the truck. He had to be practicing ahead of time because goddamnit Negan just could not get that motherfucker to crack a smile. He could threaten him, yeah, but where was the fun in that. No, Rick Grimes would smile at him in his own due time. He always let the really good ones break themselves. A man like Rick was worth a nice, long chase.

“Open the gates Eye Candy! I wanna get a good look at my favorite settlement.”, he barked. Negan took a moment to leer at Token Latina as they rolled them back. Damn. How the hell did that bitch always have on tinier little fucking shorts every time he saw her?! Not that he minded. Girl had some great legs on her. Looks like he knew where to find Arat when he needed her.

He tried not to need her. Arat was probably his favorite lady next to Lucille herself. And Rick’s people were one good looking bunch. If he was here to flirt with Rick, which everyone knew he was, his High Command could flirt with whoever they wanted too. Only seemed fair. Only rules were to keep your eyes off Rick and no hands on stuff unless it was consensual. Arat had been after that Hispanic girl since she laid eyes on her and Negan wished her all the best.

“I live here. Who else were you expecting?”, grunted the fairest of them all. Pretty as a princess with the manners of a stable boy. Oh fuck, was Rick Grimes ever Negan’s type!

“Well you weren’t last time. Which was very rude, by the way. I even cooked. If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were trying to hurt my feelings.”, Negan drawled, throwing an arm around Rick’s shoulder. He’d managed to kiss him on the cheek before but didn’t want to play his hand too early in the game so he settled for a quick squeeze. “But hell, you know I can’t stay mad at you. Even left a present.”

Rick just grunted an affirmation and tried to pull away.

Negan just held him tighter. He dropped his volume to almost a whisper, “Did you like it, Rick? That rich kid’s corpse? Made it just for you.”

Rick’s face went pale and he nearly stumbled. Negan positively howled with laughter. Yeah, he’d be just fine. So what if everything in his inside seemed like it’d rather be on the outside? He couldn’t just lay around puking his fucking guts out forever. He had shit to do and people to scare. He’d had enough of feeling miserable. So Rick. So far it’d been a perfect plan. Wasn’t doing much for his stomach but Negan hadn’t been in this good of a mood in days. That had to count for something. He was sure Simon and Eugene would think so anyways.

“In the future if you ever feel like giving me something I’d prefer it not be body parts.”, Rick hissed. So picky. But Negan didn’t like shrinking violets. No problem with someone knowing their worth if they were worth something though. And Rick here was worth every single life Negan chose to end for him.

Negan gave him a truly lewd grin in return. “Now you know that’s not a promise I’d be willing to make. I’m sorry Rick but your price is too high. I’ve been trying to give you some of mine since I saw you after all.”, he sneered, pulling Rick closer. It fit with the attitude he was throwing but the truth was he just wanted Rick near. It was a funny thing. Everyone was dressed like it was hot as dicks out and Negan just couldn’t get warm enough.

Lucky it didn’t seem like Rick had noticed anything but Negan’s hand having slipped down to his hip. “Let me go ahead and save you some time. No.”, he growled, trying to squirm away. Negan struggled to keep him. He wouldn’t have managed it unless Simon, who Negan somehow hadn’t even noticed trailing them, cocked his gun. Rick settled the fuck down pretty quick.

Negan shot Simon a weak glare over his shoulder. He couldn’t find it in him to do much more when instead of looking amused his second in command just seemed concerned. It wasn’t like Negan was against Simon playing wing man or anything. Just kinda put a dent in his whole not threatening Rick agenda. What kind of gentleman wins a lady or fine ass man over with force?

”Oh, Rick you little fucking prude. You’re gonna be tight as a chorus boy, aren’t ya? For you? I’ll take it slow as you want, baby.”, Negan said deciding that since he’d braved the hellride over just for Rick’s company they were beyond innuendo.

”You disgust me.”, Rick replied with a shudder.

Negan choose to interpret it as a shiver of undeniable pleasure brought on by his seduction. Negan was shivering too and he’d chalk it to the same thing. Rick was pretty fucking hot. Besides, Negan couldn’t be cold everyone else was starting to sweat just walking around. And, of course, that just made Rick even more like he’d stepped out of a porno. If Negan didn’t want him so bad he’d hate him because no one but him had the right to be so damn fine.

”And yet you find me strangely attractive.”, Negan shot back. He grabbed Rick’s hand. Thank Christ they were at the Grimes house because it’d hit Negan like he’d walked into a brick wall. He absolutely could not take one more step. And it was more than just his stomach protesting now. It hurt to breathe, to think, to walk, to be alive. How was he meant to pretend he wasn’t cold when his fucking teeth were chattering?

Shit. If it weren’t for Rick he would call this off that’s how bad he felt. Nothing else was worth this hell, not even his ego. The Saviours all knew by now how fucked up he was whether he wanted them to or not, anyway. Word travels fast when your boss nearly pukes up blood in front of half the damn world. Fuck, Negan might be in love with Rick Grimes now that he thought about it.

”What’s the hurry?”, Negan forced out and hoped his voice wasn’t shaking. “I got to have a nice little heart to heart with the kid last time. I want my chance to with his daddy too.” It was a flimsy excuse and Negan could do better if he weren’t trying so damn hard to hold himself still. It did the trick though. No one would doubt anything involving Rick to be his motive.

“No thanks, I’d really rather help you steal from us some more.”, Rick snapped.

Negan’s head was throbbing. The best he could manage was a quick, “Sit the fuck down, Rick.” He should have gotten an Oscar or something for acting like flopping back into the wicker chair was a choice. He’d straight up just collapsed.

Negan had never seen Rick obey a command so quickly and he prayed that Rick was just tired or something. He took it all back. He didn’t want Rick to see him like this. Curiosity killed the cat and Negan felt like one that’d been run over a few hundred times, that’s for sure. He didn’t have to try to look hot, of course, but he liked to throw in a little bit of something extra for Rick. Right now, though, he just wanted to be back in the Sancturary where he could feel like shit in peace.

“Negan?”, Simon called and Negan looked up just a second too late to be normal. But it was too late, Rick had noticed that. His eyes were always scanning Negan for weakness and Negan just HAD to choose to visit him on the day there might actually be some to find.

“What?”, Negan managed through gritted teeth. He actually couldn’t tell what was bothering him most when everything hurt so bad. He kind of envied the cat that curiosity killed though. God, anything had to be better than this.

“Just...you’ve got a eavesdropper is all.”, Simon pointed out looking nearly as pained as Negan felt. Huh. Damn, he was loyal. Negan made a note to let him have any wife he wanted when- if, he tried not to think- they got back tonight.

Negan realized he was hunched over, an arm around his middle. Against every lick of sense he had he straightened up. Sure enough though, Rick’s son was watching them through a window wearing a baby version of his father’s glare. Damn, he was just a mini Rick and that made him smile despite everything. God Rick had made some adorable kids. “Hey Carl!”, he called and waved with more enthusiasm than should have been possible for him.

Of course the kid wouldn’t join them because a complete lack of manners ran in the family but at least Negan could understand his animosity. He might not be so keen on hanging around with a man who was actively trying to fuck the one parent he had left either. He liked the black girl though and Negan still couldn’t figure out how she’d managed that.

He felt the familiar burn in his stomach and hunched forward. He spoke again trying to distract from it, “Haven’t seen you in nearly two weeks, Rick. Did ya miss me?”

”Like I miss the bullet in my chest.”, Rick spat back but his eyes were narrowed not in hate but interest. So he knew it too. Negan was going to end up throwing up again. Well, at least they were all on the same page. No surprises. Awesome. If Simon cared at all he would shoot him.

This was just plain mean. Everybody here knew what was going to happen but they were gonna just wait for him to humiliate himself? FUCK EVERYTHING. He could understand Rick, at least, he was too repressed to look at their sexual tension as anything but hatred but his best friend?! Come on! Fuck it. If they were gonna let him make a mess of himself then he’d do it. Negan would just pretend this was a fucking garden party until he crashed it by puking on everything.

He set his jaw stubbornly as he continued on, “You were shot, Rick?”. And if Negan ever got to feeling better he might just have to go pay a visit to whoever’d done it. Despite how sick he’d ended up the disembowling part of his last trip to Alexandria had been pretty fucking cool. He wouldn’t mind adding that to the old trick book permanently. It’d have been more than earned everyone from his people to the Hilltop to that lunatic with the rennisance fair knew better than to give Rick so much as a scratch. Rick Grimes was his and had been the second Negan had seen him. He was under a damn powerful man’s protective hand. No one would dare lay a hand on that boy but him.

Surprisingly Rick answered him, “Yeah.”. His words were coming slow and thoughtful. Negan let himself think it was from concern for him and not calculating how best to use this against him. It made things seem a bit brighter. “Before all this in the line of duty. Was in a coma and woke up in the middle of the apocalypse. My wife and Carl were gone. Never thought I’d see them again.”

And that was just so unbearably cute and SO Rick that Negan nearly forgot about the twinge of acid on the back of his tongue. How else would Rick get shot? Playing Hero of course. God, what Negan would give to see Rick in uniform. He desperately wanted to see that scar. The thought probably would have turned him on if there were any blood left in his body for a hard-on. And what he could have done to Rick with him in those handcuffs...fuck, his body almost managed to rally.

”Negan?”, someone called again softly. And holy fuck that had been Rick! Negan could rally for that.

He swallowed thickly against the acid creeping it’s way up. “That bitch!”, he forced out. But the sentiment was anything but. “They couldn’t have forced me to leave your side if you got hurt.” It was true. Negan loved him, goddamnit. That’s why this was gonna suck so bad. Because Rick would laugh at him for this. And it’d be a hell of a lot harder to live in denial that one day Rick would come around then.

Rick had had enough. Of course he would always so serious. He couldn’t just settle the fuck down for a second and let things happen. “What the hell is wrong with you?”, he demanded.

Negan waved him off even though a hand was clamped over his mouth. “Not a damn thing, Rick.”, he practically whined. If the nausea wasn’t bad enough before Negan had just piled some self loathing on top of that. He gagged.

”Fuck, you’re about to throw up.”, Rick realized.

#the walking dead #twd regan #emetophilia #emeto prompts #emeto #vomiting #outdoor sickness #public sickness #sickfic #sick character #rick x negan #negan #rick grimes #simon twd #arat twd #carl grimes #simon likes negan but negan likes rick but rick likes not being enslaved #awkward crush #foeyay #budding tolerance #negans superb flirting #worst love triangle

[cuccofarmer]

I’VE FINALLY FIGURED IT OUT.

The present differences between One Piece pre- and post-timeskip – A One Piece Essay.

With One Piece’s Dressrosa arc finally wrapping up last year, there has been a collective sigh of relief as the longest running story has ended. The complaints, from what I saw, stemmed from the fact that pacing was a dramatic issue during Dressrosa and its overall length led to a huge loss of interest. Personally, I loved Dressrosa’s story, but I wholeheartedly agree that it was a total struggle to stick out. This was the arc that broke me. I saw the light and switched to reading the manga which is a million miles better, by the way. Despite all the superiorities in the manga, it still suffered from a multitude of similar problems as the anime.

This drove me to try and find out why I still felt a whole inside my heart even while reading One Piece. I had to think long and hard, and dug through the internet to find a lot of other opinions on the matter. I came to the conclusion that, since the timeskip, the overall thematic feel for our favourite pirate anime/manga has just changed drastically. I know this isn’t anything new, quite the contrary and don’t get me wrong I love One Piece a lot and still find joy in following the story.  

Search your mind and think back. Can you remember the good ol’ days when five intrepid kids (yes kids) got on a dingy little ship with dreams and ambitions that they could only wish to achieve? Good, because for many that is what made them fall in love with One Piece. I remember when I started watching all I wanted was to be on that ship with them. It made you feel part of something, like you were really on deck with the crew as they made their way from East Blue to the dreaded and mysterious Grand Line. Even following that, the crusade through to Alabasta, trying to save their very own princess. The diabolical Sir Crocodile, with his hook made of gold and his fearsome sand abilities. Remember as the crew faced off with Baroque Works and found the reason for their fighting.

Oh boy, and even Skypeia. I hated Skypeia for a long time because it was hard to get through, but I can tell you the second time I watched it I found a lot of reasons why it was good. The intrigue, the exploration, the mystery behind the missing island, and by far the best part of that arc, the Almighty Eneru (or Enel for those who prefer). Man was he as good villain. You could argue he was horrible, but just think of his motivation. How evil and power-mad can one man get? All it took was Luffy’s perfect counter to put him in his place.

Then to my favourite ever story arc in all of One Piece. It is so hard to beat Water 7. It had so much good shit crammed into it. Even more surprising if you combine Water 7 and Enies Lobby together as the saga it comes close to the length of Dressrosa. So why is it so much better? For many damn good reasons. Remember when the crew lost Robin, only to find her supposed betrayal? Good Lord was that heartbreaking, even though you knew she would come back there was a tiny part of you that was still secretly worried. There was that deep-rooted connection to each crew member that you didn’t want tainted. For me the defining moment of this saga was when the Strawhat pirates stood at the gates of hell (or Justice if you like), and stared death in the face when they were toe to toe with Cipher Pol 9. Enemies who could swat them like flies and yet they found the strength to beat them against all the odds, even if it meant sacrificing their humanity. Goddamn motherfucking Sniper King. That’s all I have to say.

Thriller Bark had that stink of adventure all over, however slow it was, so you could put up with the crew being duped by an idiot, Moria’s god-awful laugh, and the cringiest moments of Perv-salom. There was a mystery to be solved and a treasure to be found. There was something lacking though. How come Zoro and Sanji were missing for so long? Surely our two favourite hot-heads weren’t captured by the enemy? Well they were, and for one good reason: they needed to make room for the rest of the crew. At this point in the story we had eight crew members with the ninth one being introduced. How much time can you devote to NINE main characters? Five is perfect, six is fine, seven is manageable, eight is pushing it, but nine? It’s one hard task to make sure nine dang Strawhats have the same amount of development.

Luckily the plot went elsewhere at this point, we saw the crew split up and the focus was all on our meat-loving captain. Ace in danger? We better get going! So we couldn’t dwell on the fact that suddenly we were seeing so much less of our favourite nakama even when the crew was all together.

Then you hit the timeskip. Finally our Strawhats are all back together again! This should be a cause for celebration. Except something wasn’t quite right. Who’s this fishman poser? Why is he just a copy/paste Arlong? Luffy’s super duper strong now! Can’t he just squash him? Why do I care about a goddamn goldfish lady? Shira-who? Show me more nakama adventure! Wait what? Sanji’s decommissioned? You’re telling me I waited all the way through Amazon Lily to Marineford and now my favourite goddamn cook is in a fucking coma? I say nay!

Do you remember when Zoro used to smile because he was happy, not because he was sadistically going to cut someone to ribbons? Do you remember when Nami’s character was something more than fan service? Do you remember when Usopp fought through all his fears to look his enemy in the eye and stand his ground? Now he’s just played for laughs. Do you remember when Sanji was suave and collected and not a quivering heap in front of every lady he met? Do you remember when Chopper could ACTUALLY FUCKING DO SOME DOCTORIN’. Now he’s just a squeaky merchandising ploy. Do you remember when Robin, my favourite Strawhat, would ACTUALLY FUCKING DO SOMETHING – LITERALLY ANYTHING AT ALL. Do you remember when Franky didn’t completely look and act like an abomination? Me either, Franky never got that much screen time did he? And Brook, poor skeletal Brook, I hope you get some sort of development, man. It looks promising in Whole Cake Island, you might actually get some real badass action.

Above all, Monkey D. Luffy, when did you become such an idiot. Sure he was always a dolt, but now he just meanders through the story, punching anything in his way. The stakes aren’t as high anymore. Who knows what training the Dark King gave Luffy for two whole years? Hody Jones was a scrub. Caesar Clown was a scrub. Doflamingo was a Hannibal Lecter level badass mo-fo. I bet you he owns that Pulp Fiction wallet, but jfc a build up of close to 200 episodes? Like I said, I am trash for One Piece and the storytelling is still fucking prime. So I’ll keep going, especially since Whole Cake Island has given us a lot of promising material, maybe the first bit we’ve had in the New World.

Here endeth my essay on One Piece. Conclusion? We have become detached from our favourite characters. Through some fault in the story, a by-product of having to fit so much in each segment, we have lost a lot of what made us fall in love with it in the first place. We used to be so lucky we had heroes who we could identify with, who we could journey with. Nowadays we have these super-cool, super-badass pirates, but they’re untouchable. I just wish we had some semblance of the good ol’ days. Maybe I’m just being spoilt.

Also the animation is shit now.

Peace out, I love y’all. TLDR: Pre-Timeskip was better because the characters had more development and were more relatable whereas now they are super-powered infallibles.

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