#first fanfic on this account WOOO

[familyvideostevie]

Hi hello🍄✨🌼 I would like to ask for a friends to lovers Eddie munson x fem reader, where Eddie's announcing to the reader that he's going on a date with a girl and it gets a bit angsty and they stop talking for a while but eventually she admits that that she likes him and they get together. If this is too much or not your thing feel free to ignore. Hope you have a great day ✨🌼

darling! i hope this works for you, let me know! <3 angst w fluff at the end! | 2.3k, fem!reader

The sun is warm on your face as you wait for Eddie to get out of class. You're meant to go to the library today to work on his history paper, but he's late. You don't really mind, since it's a rare early spring day in Hawkins. Having the day off, you walked to the school and chanced a skirt today, glad to stretch your legs out in front of you where you sit on the steps. The sounds of the campus are soothing as you close your eyes, chin tipped up. Someone playing frisbee, cars starting and stopping, skateboards over the pavement. Shouts and laughter. It's a perfect day. 

"Don't be late tomorrow, Wheeler! You too, Henderson!" Eddie's voice from behind you makes you smile, warmth spreading through your chest at the sound. 

Being friends with Eddie has made your life better in so many ways -- he is kind and caring, sure, but he is funny and brings you out of your shell. He has introduced you to a gaggle of other teens and they've welcomed you into the fold. Eddie makes your life full and makes you so happy you could burst.

Maybe it was only par for the course that you've fallen in love with him. But, friends you stay, because that is enough for you. And if sometimes you think Eddie's gaze lingers on your lips, or if he holds you a little tighter than necessary when you sleep over? Maybe someday you'll ask him about it. But first, getting him to the end of the school year and into a job at the record store with you.

You keep your eyes closed as you feel him plop down next to you, chain scraping the stone steps. He bumps his shoulder with yours. 

"Now, what's a pretty thing like you doing in a dump like this?" The corners of your mouth turn up but you try to muster a frown. You open your eyes and allow yourself to drink him in for just a moment. Warm eyes, wide grin, messy hair. Your Eddie, pretty as a picture. 

"Waiting for someone who is late," you cry, mocking affront. "I'm burning to a crisp out here."

"Looks like you're enjoying it," he smirks, running an index finder over the freckles on your cheeks."You look like a dandelion in the sun."

"Are you calling me a weed, Eddie?" You roll your eyes and stand up, brushing off your skirt. His eyes follow your movements, and you pretend not to notice. "Real nice."

"A pretty weed, babe. Honest." You snort and he laughs as you walk to his van. "And I know my weed." No doubt the sun has warmed your cheeks some, which is a good thing since you're definitely blushing.

He pulls out of the school parking lot and heads towards town after you've hopped in and buckled up.

"Y'know," he starts, glancing over at you. You're already looking at him, of course, and he smirks. "I was late because the weirdest thing happened."

"I heard you talking to Mike and Dustin. Hellfire stuff?" He shakes his head. 

"No, just ran into them as I was leaving." He pauses, fingers tapping a random rhythm on the steering wheel. "Lester asked me to go out with her this Friday. To her brother's gig in the city."

"Kate Lester? From your English class?" You furrow your brow and look out the window. You feel a little mean for being surprised. 

"You know her?" 

"A little," you say. She'd been your lab partner your senior year. She's kind and pretty, a year younger than you, and going to University of Cincinnati in the fall, according to Nancy. 

"What's she like?" Eddie huffs. "She's never talked to me before, really."

"Then why did you say yes?" The question comes before you can stop it. His eyebrows raise and he searches your face for something before looking away. Your shoulders drop. 

"Well, she asked, I guess." He shrugs. "Seems to think I'll like some amateur punk music. Don't know where she got that idea." He looks at you to see if you'll laugh at him, but you're focused on the road. 

"She's nice," you say, and you mean it. She is nice. "I'm sure you'll have a great time." You try to keep your voice bright because you really do want him to have a nice date, even if it's with someone who doesn't know him like you do, with someone who doesn't already love every inch of him. Eddie is a catch, anyone should be able to see that. 

It's just that you thought everyone knew you and Eddie were youandEddie. Even if you're just friends, it's been you two against the world for a while. Late nights watching him practice his guitar, staying over in the trailer after helping him study, long walks when he has nightmares. You've got a drawer of his clothes in your room and he made you the guest of honor at Hellfire Club for your birthday and he visits you at work whenever he can. You know that he loves you, but maybe it's not ever going to be the way you love him. 

"What's wrong, sweet thing?" The pet name makes you shiver. His hand reaches over and cups your knee, thumb pressing into the bare skin, his rings leaving little indents. His eyes flick between you and the road and you feel a little guilty, but can't muster the will to pretend. 

"Headache," you mumble. He gives you a squeeze before letting go. 

"Do you want me to take you home?" His voice is soft, gentle with you in that way of his. 

You shake your head. "We agreed to do your essay today, Eds." He's smart on his own, but he works harder when you're there to encourage him. 

"I can read and write, you know. I'll be fine on my own, honest. I'll drop you at home."

"You sure?" You're going to be no help anyway, now that you're sulking over a date that hasn't even happened yet. He nods.

That night you try not to think about it but you fail. Your brain is fuzzy all week at work, but when Friday rolls around you put on a brave face. 

"We're leaving right after school," he tells you at lunch -- he's driven over to see you on your break during his free period. "Driving into the city and then back tonight."

"Be safe, okay?" you say. "No drinking." Eddie is a lot of things, but stupid isn't one of them. Still, you can't help but make him promise. 

"I'd never," he replies, seriously. "We'll just see some shitty music and be back before midnight, probably."

"Are you excited?" you ask, running your hands through your hair to stop yourself from brushing his out of his face. 

He hums noncommittally. "Lotta driving for a first date," he huffs, as if it just occurred to him. "Didn't even know she knew my name till this week."

If you didn't know him so well you'd say he was self conscious. "Oh, stop that," you say. "You're a catch, Eddie Munson, you hear me? She's lucky to be going on a date with you."

Eddie fixes his gaze on you and looks and looks and looks. You meet his stare with your own, until he breaks and grabs your hand, dragging it up for a sweet kiss. Your heart breaks a little, but you smile. 

____

You don't know why you do it, really, but you avoid Eddie for the whole weekend after his date. And the entire week after. You sit in the break room during lunch in case he comes in, and pick up extra shifts to beg off when he asks you to hang out. You even go to the skatepark with Max. Anything to keep you busy. A small, ugly part of you wonders if he even notices. 

Robin calls you from work a week after you last really spoke to Eddie.

"Do you know why Munson is in Family Video right now looking like a kicked puppy?" she asks, the line crackling. "Steve is telling him he's scaring away customers."

"Why did you call me about it?" you ask, twirling the phone chord around your fingers. It's Saturday night and you would bet that it's just the three of them in the store.

"Don't be dense," Robin replies, not unkindly. "Does this have to do with his date last week?"

"Robin, shh! Can he hear you?" You pause. "Wait, how do you even know about that?"

"Kate told Carol in the locker room and Vickie overheard and told me. Do you even know how it went?" She sighs. "Of course you don't, since Eddie has told us no less than four times that you haven't spoken for a week."

The guilt rises up in your throat. Have you gone and done the thing you wanted to prevent in the first place -- ruin your friendship?

"Is he mad?" you whisper into the phone. Robin barks a laugh. 

"Mad? Have you ever seen Eddie get mad? Other than that time when I made fun of his music. But at you? I don't think he can get mad at you." You rub at your eyes with your free hand. 

"Okay," you say. "Okay. Can you tell him to come over to my house, please?"

"Roger that," she chirps. It sounds like she pulls the phone away from her mouth before yelling, "Munson! Y/N wants you at her house, pronto."

You hear a faint Thank Christ from Steve and a Really? from Eddie. 

"Thanks, Robin," you say. 

"No, thank you," she laughs before hanging up.

The sun is setting, so you decide to throw on a sweatshirt and wait for him outside so you can go for a walk. You've barely sat on your stoop when Eddie's van pulls into your drive. He seems to steel himself before getting out. 

"Hey," he calls, his voice hoarse. You stand. It takes about four second of looking at him for you to start running and before you know it you're in his arms. He thunks back against the door of his van and you bury your face in his neck, his hair tickling you, but you don't mind. His hands stroke your back, up and down, and the tension seems to leak out of him. 

"Hey," you whisper, before you pull away from him just enough to see his face. He looks wrecked and your stomach twists. "I'm sorry, Eddie."

"No," he says loudly into the night. His hands come up to cup your face on either side. "No, I'm sorry. Whatever I did, I'm so fucking sorr--"

You place your fingers over his mouth. "You didn't do anything." He looks confused, so you continue. "This was all me, Eds. I've been a horrible friend to you this week and that's the last thing I wanted to do but I went ahead and did it anyway."

"Why?" he breathes. You take his hands in your own and draw them down between you. 

"I--," you start, then take a deep breath. "How was your date?" you ask. You need to know before you tell him. 

Eddie looks confused, but answers. "Music was fine. She just wanted me there to make the drummer in her brother's band jealous," he admits, rolling his eyes. Your eyebrows furrow at that. "It's okay though," he continues. "Because I'm not really into Kate."

"Oh," you let out. 

"But what does that have to do with you not talking to me?" His thumbs trace circles on your skin. His eyes have nothing but warmth for you and it gives you courage. He'll forgive you for this, you think. You can still be friends. 

"I want more than anything for you to be happy, Eddie," you say, and then lose your nerve at the last second, closing your eyes before continuing. "But I'm in love with you." His thumbs still. 

"And I know that's no excuse for how I've treated you this week, because we're friends first and you're my best friend and --" 

"Sweetheart," Eddie says, sounding breathless. "Look at me, please." Your eyes fly open. He's looking at you the way he looks at his guitar, the way he looks when he's finished a campaign he's proud of, the way he looks at you when you wake up next to him. 

He's looking at you like he always does, you realize. He's looking at you like he loves you. 

"Can you say it again?" he whispers. 

You don't hesitate. "I love you, Eddie." The words seem to pour out of you now. "I have for a while. And it made me jealous to hear you were going on a date, which I have no right to be, since you should be happy with whoever you wa--"

"Hey," he interrupts again, and this time you can see the beginnings of a smile on his face. "Let a guy talk, huh?" His hands return to your face and you nuzzle into one palm. "I am happy." He smiles. "Happy with you." He sighs, and it's a happy sound, before leaning in to kiss your forehead. "My best friend." His lips find your right cheek next to his hand, and then your left. "Girl of my dreams," he continues, and you're grinning, now. He kisses your nose and you giggle.

Eddie pulls away and you almost whine. He looks serious, but you can't stop smiling. 

"I'm in love with you," he says. "I love you. Can I kiss you?" You find the ability to nod somehow, since Eddie has just blown your world to pieces and you didn't know you could feel this happy. But as his lips find yours and your hands tangle in his hair, you think that you could get used to it. 

want to be added to my tag list for full-length (non-ask) fics? send me a message and specify for steve, eddie, or both! reblog, send feedback, requests open, masterlist here!

#anon ask #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fluff #stranger things x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #stranger things s4 #please excuse all typos i just wrote this #first fanfic on this account WOOO #reblog and share and all that bc i have no followers yet <3 #emma’s asks

[the-mercurial-star-o-vesper]

1, 2, 3, 4, and Jaaaam~!

As time of writing, I’ve faced off and beaten 1010 on Normal. Wooo~!

So, more 1010 stuffz!

Either through updates or I've merely been watching play throughs with turned down graphics; Having now played the section, the 1010 battle and cutscene sprites now have their eyes the proper matching color. However, at this point, I ain't gonna discount or discourage the "White Eyes Synch" HC.

   Turns out, according to Kliff’s brief, Neon J had been a Captain of the Cruiser. Now I don’t know about the time frames of the Royal Malaysian Navy, but for US Navy, it takes a collective of 21-23 years (at an estimate) to get to rank of Captain [No idea if this means starting at the rank of Seaman Recruit or starting as an O1; either way this dude was a full eagle].    Means, Neon J was in the military for a loooong time.

   So, when you destroy a member of 1010, they leave remains behind that can be transformed to face off against other members of 1010 or as something benefitial for the PCs.    Fanfic Writers, do with this as you may.

So only White (Rin) and Red (Zimelu) have parry attacks. Meaning they're the guys our PCs are more likely to go after first (The designated Leader; and the persumed more combative or warlike 1010 member / Bad Boy).

   Barraca Mansion also has those five colored portraits.

   The section of Metro Division leading up to the Boss Fight is just covered in dance-dance games.

According to the NSR-Post, type 4 Battledroids are still in service, and do in fact have background memories to hold in combat. In a previous post, I've already speculated that 1010 may have Neon J's memories...

Consider what it took to actually get to the boss fight. That's not just one limo, that's an entire floating fuckin escort with god damn canons. And not all of them were cars, half of em were akin to the Battleship Limo. Basically, Neon J didn't just command one ship, he had an entire fuckin Fleet.

   Part of Neon J’s voicelines do call 1010 “robots”.

I know the section was mean to play for laughs, as a break from the character driven plot, but really reeeeally look at this level: - When you defeat a body of 1010, you can transform the remains to go against the other members. - You are actively being photographed / recorded fighting and doing all this damage to 1010. - The fact that Neon J acknowledge Yinu and had an entire escort, means he already knew you were coming and was actively preparing to face you - Which is probably why he had his factory out. Let's face it, 1010 are Battledroids with weapons included, and most folks don't even come to their stomachs in height. Unless a fan is wearing full Halo MJOLNIR power armor and wielding a Fallout Fatman, you don't need to break out an entire robot factory if anything happens. Plus, shields. Neon J knew that BBJ were coming, and prepared accordingly, hell, 1010 was actively waiting on you (even though none of it was enough) - Consider everything. Neon J was a captain who faced what might've been some pretty historically bloody and brutal wars, and while he did break out weapons... ... None of these weapons do ANY personal or permanent harm to you / BBJ. Not even the sawblades or the missiles. ... Hell, consider the jump over. Nearly none of the other boss security levels have flash when you fall off edges, you just sorta pop back up, but 1010's? There's a red flash that pops up when you fall off, as if something was actively teleporting you back on to the car platforms. ... Think there might be a chance that, while Neon J knew you were arriving, he might have had more sympathies for BBJ than previously considered? ... Consider 1010. A Mohawk (Red) is, after all, a very Rock based Hairstyle. And Yellow? Its a pompadour, a "Rockabilly" hairstyle. How bout Blue's Lennon Specs (The Beatles were a Rock Band)... And the biggest boy bands of the 60s were Rock Band. ... Neon J goes over the top with his loyalties to NSR, like, uber over the top. And even the game acknowledges that he's paranoid. Its almost like he's playing a Role...

Time.    According to descriptions found by playing Zuke, NSR (at least) takes place after the 90s.    While for Neon J, he has fought since the 60s (68; It sounds like he might’ve just gotten out of basic training, the way he talks).    This leaves a 30-40 year time frame to consider.    Take into consideration, however, that this world has flying battleship cars, robots, a virtual idol that isn’t holographic glass, and folks have duper supernatural powers.    This could be in the 2100s or more for all we know.

A Change of Pace, HEADCANON TIME!

White is the Default Droid. Not so much in 1010, but in battledroid standards. You program in what you want the bot to be or do after the fact, and the color will indicate such. All battledroids have combative abilities, but their out of combat jobs are: - Red    - Maintenance. (Believe it or not, a saw is pretty useful on a ship) - Blue   - Parade (?). I mean, batons? - Green  - Grenadier is kinda hard to find outside of the niche combat, but consider Fallout GOAT. Probably does a lot of background jobs, like laundry. - Yellow - Missiles. Probably a Bridge stationed bot, and does a lot of calculations. Missiles are a calculated effort to aim and launch. They're not Grenades where you pull the pin, and hope that it only goes off at the designated 5 seconds (and not sooner). - White  - Default, and as we've seen with Rin, probably the kind that commands or acts as VIs (Virtual Intelligence, basically a smart interface).

1010 = Superhero fighting squad Oh please, a bunch of "young men" with color coded appearances and color coded weaponry, lead by a Captain with a Factory that actively replaces their bodies? And you're telling me they're ONLY a boy band? These dudes are fighting crimes like the god damn Power Rangers with all that equipment.

Neon J supported BBJ Consider all the above suggested. The Dude knew full feckin well that NSR wasn't the greatest of the great, and half the 1010 level proved that he was pretty much prepared for your arrival, and possible his own defeat. Let's face it, the dude was a Captain for a long damn time, and like commanded a small fleet in that time (not unlike the 1010 Level). You don't do stuff like that without some major strategy and awareness, ESPECIALLY, if you've survived entire wars and terrifying / inhuman conditions.  Plus consider his over exaggerated speech. With all the evidence in mind, and all the visuals, the dude was definitely playing up his NSR schtick. There was nothing stopping him from just unleashing an entire army of invulnerable and shielded 1010 bots to root you out and stomp on you mercilessly. Believe me, this dude had the resources, the weapons, and the experience, to put out two brat indie bandmates.

He threw the fuckin fight.

... Though I'm pretty sure he didn't like the Breaking Yinu's Piano Part. At least for everyone else it was either a justified humiliation or just... unplugging stuff, not outright destroying priceless heirlooms. Notice how that's the only thing he mentions, and he's the only Megastar to take into account another Megastar (and that's excluding Tatiana).

1010 Memories The dance, the shared voice, the synchronization; oh yeah, 1010 probably had a share of Neon J's memories (though likely not all of them).

This goes hand in hand with the popular Fanon that 1010 were based on former Squadmates of Neon J's.

ITS CYAN Sorry, but we've seen the direct difference in Sayu's fight with the Glowsticks and we see Purl-Hew's bright cyan blue next to an actual neon Blue. Purl-Hew is Bright Cyan Blue, he's not Regular Blue. ... So you see, I like color theory and have a set and unbreakable idea of color patterns.

Rin's weapons I believe Rin's capabilities is Synchronization with his bandmates, and the capacity to use Shields. Remember that there is no Rin phase for the Factory, and the shields fall out of the fight immediately after Rin is perma-defeated. Plus, the quasi-Purple-Magenta color matches Rin's poster seen in both the fight and on Barraca Mansion.

#no straight roads #1010 (nsr) #neon j

[weapon13whitefang]

Dear Anon who has now sent me 5 hateful messages.

I know why you’re doing this and you’re not creative. I reblogged one of your posts and you saw I ship that character with a female while you ship them as being gay and into men. Cool. Whatever. This characters sexual attraction has been left open. If anything they seem more asexual than anything else. It’s fictional and it’s ambiguous. Whatever they’re into is whatever. At this point they’re open to head cannon and multi shipping. Which I am a multi-shipper. So I will ship how I wish.

Two, I know this is you and I blocked your other two accounts because you were being unnecessarily aggressive and throwing out these exact slurs and attacks before. So the fact you decided to open up another account I haven’t blocked and are coming after me in anon... To me that’s you showing a bit of an obsession at trying to get my goat and run me off. Or admit to something I am not. However, I’ve been on the internet since dial up days and crueler people than you roamed freely and under anonymous facades. You do nothing to me. The only reason I’m posting this post is to inform you that yes I did see your messages and two I will not be replying to them and three I don’t care about your shipping choices as much as you want me to.

Three I’ve never tried to hide my interests or my fanfics. Yes I have written non-con before. I put warnings and such on said work. If someone reads it and gets upset, that’s on them. Caution tape is only so effective to those that decide to read and heed its warnings. Big whoop. I’m not the first person to write non-con. I’m not gonna hide from that.

Four, your other comment about me being a P-word most likely stems from the ANOES work Ive done, I take it. Yeah. I ship Freddy/Nancy. In both universe.s That also has a non-con undertone to it. Again, people know this. I don’t try to hide that. Wooo.

Five, yes I am turning 30. Great observation. You can read what I post. Like I’m the only almost 30 year old on this website.

That’s all I have to say to you anymore. If you send anything else, I’ll be ignoring it. I gave you this last little nod. Be grateful and go hang out with people you like for once.

Update: Anon has been turned off. Message me as yourself or don’t. I don’t care anymore. This almost 30 year old has work.

#anon hate #replying

[sisterstrugglingsarah-blog]

Music makes the world feel good

Wooooo super super unedited and I literally have no one to beta shit for me plus its like 1:32am so excuSE the many mistakes. Also I changed it up a teeny bit so I apologise if you don’t like that.

Word count: 1048 (wooo)

Pairing(s): Virgil/Patton (Platonic so yall don’t have to worry)

Warning(s): Fluff and angst (Boi I did NOT intend to write this much angst at all smhhhhh)

@pat-on-verge

Hmu if you want me to tag you in future fanfics!

Virgil wanted to kill himself. He messed up again. Now Thomas had to deal with depression because of his stupid actions. All he had to do was tell him that the video wasn’t good enough and *boom*, the man goes into shut-down mode. How was Virgil supposed to know that Thomas wasn’t having a good day? He was his anxiety, not feelings. He didn’t have the time to constantly ask Patton how he was feeling.

Throwing himself onto his bed, Virgil sighed and began to scroll through Tumblr, reblogging memes and the occasional motivational wallpaper for the fans. He did run the account, after all.

Coming across some particularly depressing wallpapers, he was just about to reblog it to the usual one when he realised he was going to make a huge mistake and quickly posted it to his personal blog. Breathing a sigh of relief, he noticed that the words on the wallpapers were actually song lyrics. Song lyrics from the musical Thomas had put up with his friends.

‘How long ago was that?’

Virgil had to admit, the songs were catchy, and soon he found himself humming a few of them. One of the songs, however, seemed to get itself stuck in his head no matter how he tried to shake it out.

‘I never wanted to be the bad guy…’

‘Aw, crap. Not again.’ Virgil thought miserably. He found the album on his phone and began to play that song, pulling his knees up to his chest and burying his face into them, letting the words flow over his compressed form.

‘But it’s just you, and you alone to blame…’

‘Nononono…’ No matter how much he wanted the feelings to go away, he found it best to just acknowledge them first. Let them sink into him so that Thomas won’t have to bear so much of the pain. It was part of his job, unfortunately. For some reason, when Virgil bore the brunt of the depression, Thomas seemed to be less cut off from others and the rest of the sides would function much better. It was probably because he was his anxiety. Depression and anxiety, best buddies, right?

Patton did consist of most of the feelings, but depression always seemed to hit hardest. On Virgil. It would wrap around his heart like a thorny vine, squeezing and crushing every exposed part possible. It would cause anxiety to stumble to the floor while grabbing chips from the kitchen, clutching his chest in agonising pain, unable to get up for help. He would curl up in a ball and not want to move, causing Thomas to do the same on the couch and fall asleep with thoughts more depressing than the ones Virgil would usually come up with. It was a completely different experience. One that Virgil had to compress so fucking deep inside himself just to even move.

He hated it. He hated it so much. Because of something he did, he had to bear the consequences of it. He never seemed to think before he said anything to Thomas. Even during videos, Virgil could tell when an insult hit hard because his heart would clench in a way that he never wanted to feel again. But he still continued to do it.

“Because if Thomas can’t take a little scolding, how would he be in the working world?” Thomas’ mother would ask his father when Thomas did badly in exams and she had scolded him.

This had stuck with Virgil since. He didn’t know why. Throwing Thomas a mental insult just seemed like the right thing to do when Thomas was getting complacent or haughty due to Roman or Patton’s actions sometimes. But he never stopped to consider his own actions.

All he wanted was for Thomas to function properly, yes, but what good did it do when all he caused was depression? He had this talk with the others, even got it sorted out in a video, but did he really mean it when he said he wouldn’t go? What was he really here for?

The songs continued in the background of his wallowing, the reprise of the relatable song beginning to play.

“Hey, kiddo! Wanna have a game of-” Patton, opening the door gently, stopped in his tracks, his inviting smile quickly morphing into a frown. “What’s wrong? Something happen?” He asked, concerned for his sad child.

“I-It’s nothing, just the usual dose of depression, nothing I can’t handle.” Virgil barely looked up to know who it was by the voice, not wanting to cause any trouble for the dad.

“Hey, just tell me. I’ve handled much worse than you sulking in a corner, you know?” Patton refused to let Virgil’s sadness get to him and smiled at the other, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. Virgil turned the moved to turn the music off but Patton told him not to do so, instead smiling warmly at him. “The good part is coming up now. Keep listening!”

Sure enough, in the silence, with the music playing and the song coming to an end, it took on a more… encouraging tone. One that made Patton, looking at Virgil with a reassuring smile, sing the last line. 

“That doesn’t have to be how the story goes…”

At this one line, Virgil’s eyes filled with tears, all his pains projected into the few that managed to slip past his hooded lids, a shudder shaking his entire frame. Barely managing a smile, he looked up at Patton, who by that time, had sat down on the edge of his bed, the soft mattress dipping ever so slightly. 

“It’s okay to feel sad, you know? I feel sad sometimes, too. Especially when you’re sad. You think I can’t feel it? I’m literally Thomas’ feelings. If any of the sides are feeling anything, I can feel it too. So don’t think that I don’t know when you’re depressed.” Patton jokingly turned his tone of voice into his ‘Dad Lecture’ one, pointing at Virgil with a grin. 

Virgil actually snorted slightly, barely able to contain his laughter at the dad’s strange antics. He wasn’t a child. But it did feel kind of satisfying to be treated like one every once in a while.

Felt safe.

#pat-on-verge #requests #fanfic #thomas sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #sanders sides #fluffy #angst #depression mention #anxiety mention #(obviously) #it's all good fun here #feel free to hmu #i'm bored

[ourimpavidheroine]

so are you saying you never want a comment that disagrees with you? sorry, not trying to be rude, just asking. I don't mean the other kind of comments like transphobic or whatever.

Well, I’m glad you don’t mean transphobic comments (or any others of that ilk) because no one needs to justify and/or explain deleting those. 

What it comes down to is the difference between critique and criticism. A fair amount of readers don’t know (or care, in some cases!) the difference between the two.

A critique is something that the writer (or artist, or whomever) could potentially find useful in improving their craft. 

A criticism is simply complaining about what you don’t like. There is no benefit at all to the creator in question.

So let me give an example:

CRITIQUE

Wait, I’m confused here. Is Wu in love with Qi or not? It’s not clear from that last chapter. 

Why is this helpful? Well, it tells me that the reader is not picking up what I am putting down, so to speak. Now, there could be several reasons for this. It might be that I have not played all of my cards yet - I may have something planned and I am deliberately writing a slow reveal. In which case, all is well! It might be, however, that I have something clear in my head but I am not getting it across to my readers as well as I think I am. In which case, this is very important information! This is good feedback! I can go back and look at my work with a critical eye and say, you know, the reader is right and I am being too vague here, so I need to address this with more clarity in the next chapter (or whatever). I have gotten these kinds of comments and I always publish them. I value them, very much. 

CRITICISM

I was really into this story until you introduced polyamory. It’s a terrible idea. I hate it.

What is the purpose of this remark? Will it help me to improve as a writer? No, it won’t. Will I change my story line because of it? Not even close. Is there anything that I, as a writer, can do with this remark? Absolutely not. But see, that’s the entire point of criticism. When people post comments like that it is all for themselves. There is no real exchange of ideas happening there; there is no response I can give as a writer to them that will be satisfactory. I am certainly not going to apologize because a reader doesn’t like what I have done with a story, be it characterization or plot. Why on earth would I apologize? I’m not sorry I wrote it that way. The reader is under absolutely no obligation to continue reading my story; they certainly haven’t paid for it. Only once has any of the readers leaving these kinds of comments been a reader that had left any kind of other feedback for me. In other words, people who make those kinds of comments have never bothered to engage with me before and are still not engaging with me. They just want to make a dramatic exit and have the last word. Why on earth should I indulge them in this? 

I’ve been active on the internet since 1992; I have watched the rise of the comment section trolls. They don’t actually care about whatever it is they are trolling, despite their strident claims to the contrary. They’re just there to fuck shit up. People who care about something want to enjoy engaging with other fans, not proving other fans wrong. That’s your litmus test, right there. Is this person trying to engage with me in mutual enjoyable discourse or are they there to prove me wrong? If it is the former, then go for it, even if it might get a little heated (because that happens sometimes). If it is the latter, then fuck ‘em.

As I said earlier, my own personal troll here doesn’t actually like my fic and has said that directly. They are reading it for no other reason than to make horrible comments on it. (And this only came about after months of not actually reading my fanfic but coming here on Tumblr and asking my “opinion” on ATLA and/or TLOK which was a transparent excuse to reblog my answers with really nasty commentary on them, attempting to somehow prove me wrong. It was only after I stopped biting on their Asks that they actually went and started reading my fanfic.) I’m not going to help them do that by leaving their comments up on my work; it’s abuse, plain and simple, and I do not feel under any obligation to help an abuser. Especially not my own. My troll has tried over and over again to tell me that I am wrong for deleting their comments, by the way. They absolutely want me to help them by being complicit in my own abuse. Which is, in fact, a textbook abuser’s move; hell, it’s number one on the list. And it’s just not going to happen.

I have watched a lot of young and/or fragile writers pour their hearts and souls into writing fanfic, only to walk away because a reader felt entitled to leave useless, unhelpful and sometimes even cruel criticism. That goes for young artists as well; I’ve seen the absolutely horrible bullying that goes on here on Tumblr. Sending Asks telling an artist to kill themselves! What the actual fuck! It’s why, quite frankly, I have gently dissuaded my daughter from getting a Tumblr account and posting her art here. Those kinds of comments would devastate her. There is a big difference between telling an artist, “Hey, you know, I see you whitewashed Korra there, and as a person of color I’d really like to tell you why that’s a hurtful thing to do us and oh here are some links that explain about it as well,” and telling them to kill themselves or die in a fire or never draw again. But see, that’s the thing. There is a real sense of entitlement that comes with leaving criticism that just blows my mind. To me, it reads as if the consumer of the art thinks that the creator actually owes them something, even if that something is forcing them to pay attention to the consumer by leaving unhelpful, rude and sometimes even abusive commentary. I strongly disagree with this. Creators are not obligated to their fans. Or as Neil Gaiman once famously put it, “[The Creator] is not your bitch.” 

It’s not that big a leap to go from leaving a comment telling a creator that you don’t like something to stalking someone online to making actual threats and/or doxxing them. The anonymity of the internet makes it very easy, in fact. Internet trolls that cross over the line from being an entitled asshole to engaging in actual illegal behavior had to start somewhere. And that start isn’t by reading half a chapter of fic and backing out to find something else they like better or just scrolling past art they don’t like, you know?

Every single time a writer leaves up garbage commentary on their work, they are giving their tacit approval of a reader’s belief that they are entitled to shit all over said work. 

It’s not the same when it comes to a professional writer, of course. For one thing, they are being paid for their work. For another, reviews on Goodreads or Amazon or on review sites aren’t about engaging the author in discourse about their work. Authors (unless they are Anne Rice or something, wooo-weee) are not responding to reviews. Reviews are all about readers getting their chance to let other readers know how they felt about the work. Dude, if I am going to be shelling out cold hard cash for a book then I’d like to read some nuanced reviews of it first, for sure. I ignore the stupid troll ones, of course. Most of those get downvoted anyhow because nobody likes a troll but a troll.

That being said…do we leave reviews on AO3 or Tumblr in order to tell other readers how we felt about a writer’s work? No. We do not. We leave comments, because we are engaging in fandom discourse with the writer, someone else who loves the fandom as much as we do. 

Reviews and comments are not the same thing, kids. There’s a reason why they are two separate words. There is a reason why AO3 and Tumblr (and fanfiction.net, etc.) very deliberately use the word comments and why Goodreads and Amazon and The National Book Review use the word review. Language matters.

In other words, comments ≠ reviews.

Fanfic is not the same as original published work. Fandom is made up of people who love their particular fandom; fanfic is written by writers that are creating transformative works out of love. (Not that we wouldn’t mind money or anything, but that’s not the end goal.) Two completely separate worlds. Sure, sometimes the lines get blurred - I myself once met a writer at a signing whom I admired and embarrassed the hell out of myself by fangirling all over him. (He was very gracious about it.) But he was there to do a signing, not chitterchat over Tumblr for hours over why it is Bolin can lavabend but not metalbend. Totally different scenario. There are quite a few published writers here on Tumblr who engage with their fans, but they are still not engaging with them over their book reviews, I can tell you that much.

And in any case, who the hell scrolls down on AO3 to read all of the comments before they read the fanfic anyhow? I’m not saying that it couldn’t happen, I’m just saying it’s not the general practice. Not even fanfic readers are using the comments section as a means of deciding whether or not they want to read a fic. People read the tags and the summaries and go by word of mouth when it comes to choosing a fanfic to read. Again - comments section, not a review section!

Some fandom creators can handle critique or criticism and some can’t. Some writers leave up all the shit commentary on their fics and that’s fine. It’s their choice and I’m all about choice! But for me, I’m not going to be any part of teaching a reader on AO3 that they are entitled to shit all over someone’s work just because they don’t understand what the hell the comments section is for. I surely am not going to allow them to think that it is okay to be an asshole in my comments section just because they think it is somehow their god-given right to be one. Freedom of speech does not mean I have to let you take a dump all over my front lawn, you feel me? Go crap all over your own space.

It may not hurt me, a crusty old bitch who could care less if some stranger off the internet is offended by polyamory. But it could hurt and discourage other fanfic writers and anyone who has followed me for any length of time knows how much of a Tumblr Mom I am. I want to encourage new creators. I want to support them as they feel their way about, as they try to improve their work. I try to give as much written support as I can in terms of commenting, reblogging, etc. But I also want them to understand that they are not under any obligation to deal with the haters. Comments are not meant to be reviews; they sure as hell are not meant to be criticism. Leaving up hate on my own work does not get that message across to either the haters or the creators who are having to deal with that hate, as far as I am concerned. And that’s why I won’t do it.

#administrative post #suicide cw #trolls #abuse cw #anonymous