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lwt28brave · 3 years

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LT2 masterpost

If it was up to me, we would get an autumn or winter EP. Since it’s not up to me at all, here, enjoy this post with everything we know so far of LT2, which is to say, not much at all. Everything here is hypothetical. I’ll be updating every time I see something relevant. A little disclaimer that while this is a masterpost (kinda), it could be read as discourse (duh, it’s also a theory), AND it’s also by me, and you shouldn’t expect me to be serious at this point.

Due to me restraining myself, there’s no reference to any of the times he’s mentioned his guitar skills and him improving but I hope you know I cried every single time.

I’m also linking my old pinned here. It was written before AFHF and around the free merch thing that didn’t lead to much, but I still think I made some good points.

Possible tracks:

Copy of a Copy of a Copy

Change

Faith in the future??

369??

Possible names:

369

Faith in the future

When is the album coming out?

Your guess is as good as mine

Friday 28th of January 2022. Almost two years after Walls. It’s a Friday. It’s a 28th. What else can I say?

Here you can find @want-to-be-loved timelines for every month.

Here you can find @berlinini’s timeline of what Louis has been up to this year (2021).

The rest is under the cut. And here you can find a PDF version where Tumblr can't tell me how many pictures I can add.

2020

He said back on May 2th 2020 he wasn’t writing anything new yet.

(x)(x)(x)

Interestingly enough, he’s said many times after that that the album’s not ready cause he has no new experiences to drawn from. I won’t call him out because he does it himself.

May 4th. He liked a tweet from DMA’s Johnny Took saying they had to go write together again. Louis has been credited as an influence for them and (kind of) participated in their previous record, so I’m assuming he meant for their music and not his, but you never know.

Nothing(literally nothing??? how did we survive) until 11th of July. We all know what happened that day. We all celebrated it. Nonetheless, that’s not what I’m talking about here.

(x) So, by the beginning of July 2020 he was working on concepts and ideas for the new album. That was fifteen months ago. I know perfection takes time but…

Brief summary of important things that happened from then until the next mention of new music:

Louis left Syco!!!! 10 days later he rescheduled the tour for the first time. He followed Matt Vines on Twitter, probably so we could publicly shame him into doing something. Also, the 10thanniversary. He followed more people I wish he hadn’t.

Then more nothing until September. Not even a single tweet. The first merch drop was on the 28th of August but he just RT’ed the tweet. He first mentioned Free my Meal on the 25th of September. Then on October 1st Walls hit #1 on a lot of countries and Louis was incredibly happy and excited about it ^^

And then, that same day, October 1st, 2020, he dropped this bomb:

(x)

He also said it was too soon to be sharing new lyrics with us (x)

And, obviously, this tweet which is actually what made me start this whole post. I would hope you know mate.

(x)

He also told us he was cooking "banger after banger" and that he was incorporating more social themes into his music (x)(x) (I believe any social issue is a political issue but that’s not the point rn).

COPY OF A COPY OF A COPY?!?!

These next paragraphs are brought to you by my mind not remembering things and me not having any links. I’m assuming COACOAC came from those writing sessions that supposedly happened in October. Or in LA but I have no idea if he actually was in LA at any point other than a Daily Mail article putting him there on December which would have been too late, but I do remember that someone said he was in the studio in LA last autumn???? A rumor. Maybe. IDK. Did I mention already all of this is very hypothetical?? Well, this is it. I can’t even remember if this was October or November or what. So, take this with a grain of salt.

I’m also… taking the liberty to assume, if you must, that Copy wasn’t meant to be a Walls reject because it sounds more mature and darker and it has a vastly different tone that Walls songs. I know he’s said that song probably isn’t getting into the album, but I want to have faith (in the future) that I’m getting a studio version. (But also, Louis, if you’re reading this, first of all GET OUT OF MY BLOG second of all, please don’t ever feel pressured again to add a song to the album because we have already heard it before. It’s your art and it should always be under your own terms).

So yeah, I believe that Copy is either one of those four songs (then imagine the other three??!!) or was written around the 1st of October date.

---End of the Intermission---

Then not much important (other than sharing more about Marcus Rashford fight against food poverty and the 2nd merch drop) until he announced the livestream on the 24th of November. (x)

It wasn’t until a few days before the livestream date we even thought again about new music (jk, I know we’re always thinking about new Louis’ music). So, December 9th/10th, 2020. Nine months ago. We got our first taste of new music!

He made sure we knew Copy of a Copy of a Copy isn't a cover! (x) (x)

(x)

Ok, so that’s it for 2020. (I feel like I’m missing something from September 17th because tweet was deleted but maybe he was still talking about cucumbers. We might never know. Unless I understand how Tumblr tags work). Expected, cause Walls was released in 2020. We needed to let it sit for a while.

2021

Another Summary: Louis third tweet of the year was telling the UK government off. So was the fifth. What a good beginning. On the 26th of January, he said he prefers pancakes over waffles. I hope he meant pancakes other than his own. More importantly, he tweeted the infamous “you lot read into things too much”. Don’t get me started, Tomlinson. Don’t. Then the 31st came around and Walls was one. He tweeted this. How wise. And Project Defenceless happened!!

15th of February!! Who cares about Valentine Day when the next day we got this? ♥

(x)

So…AN EP?? AN EP?? PLEASE RELEASE AN EP.

“I’m sure I will have something out this year but unlikely that will be the album”. Unlikely but not impossible. Also. A single would be good. This is the second time he mentions releasing something in 2021 and he sounds surer about it than the first time around.

He also said that he isn’t sure we will get a studio version of Copy. And that the best bridges from Walls to LT2 are Walls, OTB, KMM and Copy. Can’t wait!

Then we jump to March 6th when he announced he was going to create his own management company. “Sometimes action is needed first to encourage the motivation and belief”. As we can tell he was already manifesting some stuff which will lead us to the numerology stuff/Tesla… kidding. Or not. We might never know.

On the 22nd of March he answered some questions:

He told us music was still his main focus ♥ mwha. (x) I included this tweet to guilt-trip him into giving us music in case he’s reading this even after I told him to leave. ILY.

(x) I’d love to get a visual EP this autumn. Just saying. It sounds like a lovely concept.

(x)

…next (I will get into it, I promise. I’m just mad).

On the 25th he left for Mexico until April 10th. You could assume it was just for the documentary where we got ten seconds of footage or admit the obvious: LT2 its a Mexican baby!!

On the 26th (so, not so far apart from that first 369) we got the first Faith in the Future mention: (x)

Back then we were innocent people who had no idea what was coming upon us. We still have no idea because what the fuck does he mean with these. Please explain. I have one braincell and I don’t use it enough for this. I’m linking some theories.

On the 30th of March he confirmed he was already working on the documentary. So AFHF was already on the works. Will it take this long for us to get the Veeps numbers? We also got this tweet: "Got a decent chorus idea down" (x).

Same person that got the “something out this year” exclusive. If you know something share with the class. Also. Is this Change? I feel like this could be Change but I also assume he wrote Change after hanging out with his friends or being in Doncaster. But who knows.

(x) And the second mention to 369.

(x) 15th of April. The second "Faith in the future".

On the 19th of April he announced that he had something BIG for us later on the year which turned out to be the Away From Home Festival ♥♥ (x) I love him so much.

Then on the 28th he announced the 369 merch drop (which it’s probably the Walls drop? Except that the TOU and KMM ones were “drop 1 and drop 2” and this was drop 369 which, again, makes no sense) but we still don’t know what 369 means.

Into May’ 21 we go.

He rescheduled tour again. And dropped another bomb (x).

He announced he has signed with BMG as an independent artist by RTing this tweet on May 10th. The article also says that he’s already working on writing and recording LT2. The timing… we don’t know. What this deal involves… we don’t know either. Bear with me here because I have a lot to say about this.

I think the deal is only a distribution one, but that BMG are interested in Louis and what he (us) could bring to the table. They were either present at the festival or watching it, but officially they had no involvement at all with it (everything is credited either to Louis own company, 78 Productions, or Charlie Lightening’s company). That’s the case for both giveaways too; the vinyl one and the tickets for the festival.

I think it would be an unbelievably bad move not to test the waters with BMG now or soon-ish. At least a single, to see how it performs. Due to the circumstances, it’s obvious there’re certain limitations on place but I want to see how they push it, whether the radio play exist this time around and if the song is playlisted and promoted and all that… I would also love to know, since it says he signed with BMG UK, but it also states it’s a global deal, how things are going to go on the US and other countries.

Yes, yes. I know those are all questions and no answers. But I know the same as you, sadly. If any of you know more than you’re letting on… again, share with the class.

Where was I? Yes, on the 25th of May Louis had a great day writing (x). Since the first time he had mentioned he was officially writing to this date there’s almost eight months. And I believe he was writing before October’ 20.

He followed Robert Harvey that day and, on the 28th of May (why is it always the 28th???) he was spotted at the studio for the first time.

June was an interesting month for the fandom ♥. Lots of LHL content which I will love and cherish for the rest of times. On June 4th, June 9th, and June 10th he was spotted at the studio, but I believe he was there more days.

(x)

This was posted on June 6th and captioned Studio. Charlie also shared it with “Mega tunes being put down, can’t wait for this @louist91 #louistomlinson #LT2” as the caption. This gives me 2019 (Elton-Joint) vibes. I like it. Feels like we’re getting closer to something.

He added the Milano date on the 9th too which I’m mentioning because I’m going alone. Anyone wanna go with me please? I’m nice and I never eat anything before a concert so you can have my food. On other news. It didn’t come home.

During July he was at the studio at least three days too. Probably more. Feels like more with all the fan pictures we got. Or was that June? Anyway, July 1st and 9th we got some videos from Robert Harvey and wearesuperhi, which is who Louis has been working with the most, that we know of. I don’t know for sure they’re from that day. And on July 5th we got an article and lots of pictures of Louis looking really good outside the studio.

On the 12th of July the first fans started getting the free, 369 bucket hat and print. We still don’t know what the purpose was other than to thanks fans. Maybe that was it. I want answers and I still think it relates to a future project (see theories above), but it could also just be a bridge with the Walls breaking.

He didn’t tweet about anything interesting for a while, mostly because he lost his phone (he either throwed it in the air or smashed it who knows). Then on the 29th of July he announced the festival!

I’m glossing over it because there’s already been a lot of talk about it (rightfully) and while it was a wonderful thing, it doesn’t have much to do with LT2.

Let’s talk Change!

On August 3rd he tweeted this about the setlist.

(x)

And this (x) on the 28th! I can’t stand him.

We didn’t get it, obviously. Because who was going to get that. But we read too much into things. Alright.

On the 16thof August Dave Gibson shared this post tagged #LT2 with the eyes emojis 👀👀👀. I believe this has to do both with Change but also with whatever else came out of that Mexico trip.

(x) Last relevant tweet related to LT2 is this one.

So, on the 30th of August we got Change and we cried, and we know that Change is going in the new album. He said it. With those exact words. He also said he was “getting a feeling for it”. This has to meant he already has a general idea of the vibe of the new album and what’s going in it!!!!!! (Right? RIGHT?).

Anyway, let’s go back a few weeks because some other things happened on August. He was at the studio a few more times. Or it was suggested that he was there. On the 17th and the 18th. (Why was it so time-pressing to be at the studio instead of rehearsing for the festival? There was no studio at all on the documentary. Which makes sense, but again, then why?).

On the day of the festival we got another mention of Faith in The Future that made me feel part of a cult ngl. The words were flashing on the screen for less than a second. Okay.

And then he tweeted those words again after watching the livestream/documentary on the 4th of September (x). This is what makes me suspect it's either the name of the album or of the single.

On the same day, we got some interesting quotes about LT2 on the documentary.

“Soon I’ll have to think about me second album, which in my head I’ll get the tour out of the way and then I’ll address that. So, I hadn’t really given it much thought, to be honest”.

“When every day is the same is hard to feel creative and it’s hard to have any kind of proper inspiration”.

“As season started to come back, I started writing again and it was great and some of these songs turned out alright”.

And I think this is it. I might be overlooking some important details but that’s what we know and what we don’t know.

So. Conclusions. That’s what you missed on Glee. I do believe the album is, if not mostly done, partially there. And yes, this post is pointless and never-ending but it’s all in here if you need to tell Louis “Hey, you said this, mate”.

#LT2 #Louis Tomlinson #Faith in The future #369 #Louis #LT #new music #idk what this is #but it's long #pinned

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kingofkingdom-archive · 3 years

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1979

Pairing: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) x Fem!Reader

Part ONE (Read part 2 HERE)

Rating: T (Teen) - part 2 will be E

Summary: The year is 1979. You need a ride to anywhere that’s far away from where you are. When a handsome stranger in a rustbucket pickup gives you that ride, neither of you could predict any of the events that follow.

Warnings: Smoking (and lots of it), mild violence (a punch is thrown), brief harassment of reader, food, mention of a gun (one is encountered but not used), mention of homelessness, brief mention/description of war (Vietnam), child abandonment, mention of abusive/dangerous father figure, passing mention of serial killers, vague description of non-specific events leading up to reader resorting to hitchhiking, very meta mention of a certain beloved space opera

Word count: 5.7k

A/N: Whew! This one has been in the shop for a LONG while. Originally I meant for this to be a single work, but I’ve hit a bit of a slump with the last bit. I decided to post this to see how y’all feel about it! The second part will be much longer :) Also: I know there has been some discourse recently about Din’s characterization in certain fics, so I hope this does him justice for you! I’m always open to comments, and like I said I’m very interested in hearing what you think! As per usual, no use of Y/N and please heed the tags/warnings.

8:47

You lean against the streetlight, glancing down at your watch and then back up to the motel across the street. You told yourself you'd wait until 8:30 and then you'd go back and reserve a room for another night. As you watch the second hand wind its way around the small, plain face of your 2-dollar timepiece, you've convinced yourself that maybe staying out until 9 is the ticket.

Your ticket, out of this shithole town.

The summer air is hot and thick around you. It's especially unbearable both between your legs and at the band of your bra, the elastic stretched around your middle doing its best to make you feel as sweaty and uncomfortable as possible. At least you're wearing your cutoffs, giving your legs the chance to breathe. You've also got a loose tank on, which flutters in the sticky wind as cars pass you by.

8:51

Your thumb has been stuck out for passerby to see for the past three days. No one has picked you up. You suppose you should be more wary of taking lifts from complete strangers with all the murder and kidnapping that's been in the news recently, but you're more than a little headstrong with a dash of stupid to go along. That's what your mother always told you, anyway.

Some Cadillac speeds past you, blaring what you think is a Donna Summer song, and you watch as the music and taillights fade into the night.

You shouldn't be surprised, you figure, as the minutes continue to tick on by. There's a gas shortage, you reason with yourself as you bend down to pick up your bag, thumb still stuck out, elbow resting on your waist. People don't do this anymore. Afraid of getting picked up by a pervert or a killer. Afraid of picking one up, and then a streetlight just like the one you're under is the last thing they see.

8:58

You sigh, ready to head in for the night. Marvin, dude who sits at the motel's front desk, is sure to give you shit about it again.

You're preparing to cross the street when you hear the low growl of a pickup truck approach. Not looking to get creamed by some fuckin' rusted-out GMC, you step back onto the curb where you'd been posted.

Except the truck slows up, and the window rolls down as it crawls to a stop in front of you.

Your heart races. Finally.

You walk up to the passenger side window and look in, expecting some fat old putz looking to get some tail in exchange for a ride.

That's not what you see.

"Need a lift, young lady?"

The truck's driver is older than you, sure, but you were wrong about pretty much everything else. He's got short dark hair and a 'stache, with some stubble across his chin. He's wearing a leather jacket over a plain gray tee, with a pair of sunglasses hung on the collar. One hand is on the wheel while the other is laid across the back of the bench seat, a cigarette perched in between his first two fingers.

You lean forward on your tiptoes as best you can, forearms resting on the door's open window. Pretending to survey the interior, you look around and take the opportunity to check the man out. God, you think. I wouldn't mind giving him whatever he wants in exchange for this ride. Maybe another kinda ride. Ha!

"As it turns out, I do. You offering?"

You rest your chin on your arms and give him the sweetest smile you can muster. The man eyes you up and takes a drag from his cigarette. You watch with rapt attention as he inhales deeply and then exhales the smoke out through his nose.

This guy's got you all hot and bothered and you haven't even gotten in the truck.

He gestures with his hand. "Come on, kid. I gotta make the state line by midnight."

You definitely like the sound of that. Eager and supremely stoked to finally have a way out of this dump, you pull on the handle, jump in, and swing the door closed behind you. Your backpack finds its place between your feet, and the stranger starts driving again as you pull your seatbelt across your shoulders.

"Where're you headed?" the man asks, glancing over to you and then looking back at the road. The asphalt seems to stretch into infinity, flanked by trees and fields and the occasional watering hole.

"Away from here," you chuckle as you fidget with your fingers. Black nail polish decorates your trimmed nails. It's chipped and uneven in some spots; you never were great at painting your nails, especially your right hand.

"I got that," the man drawls, voice deep and smooth like honey. "Any particular destination in mind?"

You shrug. To be honest, you hadn't exactly thought that far ahead. Your first and only priority was a way out, and anything after that was a problem to be handled when it came to it.

"Nope. Just as far as you're willing to take me."

The guy nods and takes a drag. The smell of cigarettes never bothered you like it does some other people; you find it relaxing, calming, especially when it's fresh and all-consuming like it is in this guy's truck. The vehicle itself is old, maybe 10 or 15 years, and a glance into the bed behind you tells you he's traveling with a couple boxes and nothing more.

It's certainly not state-of-the-art, but that's all the better for staying under the radar.

The silence looms over you like a cloud. The stranger seems content to just listen to the engine and the tires on the road, but you're prone to fill silences unprompted.

"What's your name?" you ask, and look over at him. He glances at you and raises a brow.

He clears his throat, eyes moving back to the road. "You can call me Mando."

"Mando?" you retort before you can stop yourself. "What kinda bogus name is that? Like, what... you got a thing for mandolins or some shit?"

The man huffs. "It is what is, kid. Get used to it."

You sigh, crossing your arms. "Alright, alright... Mando."

He doesn't try to continue the conversation, so you don't either. Minutes pass, and then hours, and you find yourself drifting off not too long after the clock reads 10:00. You shake yourself awake, wanting to stave off sleep until he pulls over to rest for the night.

But the engine is like a lullaby, the soft swaying of the truck a gentle rocking motion, and your eyes fall closed despite your best efforts.

When you wake up again, the truck is no longer moving, and the clock reads 12:30.

You must have been woken up by Mando putting the truck into park. The darkness outside does not give any clues as to where you are, but as your eyes adjust you can just make out some picnic tables, garbage cans, and signs.

A rest area. Makes sense.

Mando is fumbling with something beside you. It's a map, you realize when you look over.

"Where are we?" you ask with a yawn.

"Just over the border. Made it a bit later than I would've liked, but that's not a big deal. You can sleep here in the cab. I'll take the bed, since I sleep there anyway."

You nod, though you find it odd the way he's... not asking you for anything. He hasn't mentioned payment, monetary or otherwise. You watch as he folds the map back up, and catch his gaze as he stashes it in the glove box.

"I gotta repay you somehow, mister," you mutter. "For how nice you're bein' to me. 'Specially since I made fun of your name and all."

At your words, Mando gives you a stern look from under one of his furrowed brows. "No, you don't. Blanket's under the seat. Get some rest."

He turns away, grabs the keys, and is out the door before you can reply.

It's just so unusual for a guy to pick up a girl like you and refuse payment, much less not ask for or take it outright. It's a shame, really. Any other guy, you'd give him what he wanted sure, but with less than enthusiastic participation. The one man to whom you'd gladly deliver anything he asked... and he seems not to want it.

You suppose you shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth. Better a prude than a murderer, that's for sure.

As you reach under the seat for the blanket, your hand brushes against some sort of canvas bag, long and zippered. You lean over to look in at it upside-down, hair brushing against the dusty floor mats.

It's a rifle bag. You reach in to feel at where the barrel would be, and sure enough, there's something distinctly rifle-shaped inside.

Huh. It's not a surprise that a guy like him's traveling armed, but it makes you wonder. A hunter, maybe? Probably. There's a lot of those around.

You spot the blanket and pull it out. It's gray, scratchy wool, but as you pull it over yourself, you find it keeps the nighttime chill away quite well.

You wake up to Mando swatting at your feet.

"Time to get up, sunshine. Gotta get going."

His deep voice pierces through the fog of sleep still hanging thick over your mind. You groan and push yourself up onto your elbows, drawing your feet in to give him space to slide into the drivers' seat.

It's still dark out. You see a hint of light on the horizon, the beginning of the sunrise peeking over hills and fields.

"What time is it?" you ask, rubbing at your eyes. You're a chronic over-sleeper, so seeing the sunrise is a rarity. It seems Mando has no such problem.

"A bit after six. We'll stop at a diner for something to eat in about an hour. You're welcome to go back to sleep until then." He turns the key in the ignition and the truck rumbles to life, a blast of lukewarm air hitting you in the face.

"No, no. I'm up," you assure him, shrugging the blanket off your shoulders. As you fold it, you look over at the man beside you. He's wearing the same faded jeans and leather jacket as yesterday, but the shirt underneath has changed. The sunglasses are still hung on the collar, but now it's some faded band tee from like 8 years ago.

You set the folded-up blanket on the seat between you and him, watching as he puts the truck into drive and starts off. Before you know it, you're watching the early-morning world pass by outside your window. You kick off your sandals and tuck your feet up under yourself, sitting crosslegged on the seat.

About 15 minutes later, you've grown tired of watching farmhouses and cornfields fly by in the dark.

"So, uh..." you start, not really knowing where you intend to finish your sentence, "you like music?"

Stupid. That was stupid.

Mando chuckles. "Yeah."

"Yeah?" you reply, hopeful that he might have more to say.

"Yes. I do like music."

You roll your eyes. "What kind of music? Jazz? Opera? Country-western? Who's your favorite artist? Got any favorite records?"

He glances over at you, a hint of a smile tugging at the edge of his lips. "You sure do ask a lot of questions."

"Well, I figure if I'm gonna be traveling with you for a good while, I might as well know a bit about you. And vice versa."

Mando just hums.

"I'll tell you mine, then," you inform him, grinning widely now. "My favorite record right now is Parallel Lines. By Blondie, you know? I really like them. This time last year I woulda told you my favorite album was something by Wire or the Sex Pistols - I was real into punk, if you know anything about it. Now I'm more into poppy stuff. I just think it's fun, to be honest."

You continue to ramble to Mando well into the drive. The sky grows lighter and the road grows more crowded, but he does not stop you. At the end of a tangent about Bowie, you turn to look at him, and he's sitting there like you haven't just talked his ear off for the past twenty minutes.

"Sorry. I jus-"

"Don't apologize. It's... I don't mind," he interrupts, not taking his eyes off the road.

You stretch your legs out in front of you, looking at the sandal-shaped marks on the tops of your feet. "Don't you have any particular songs you like?"

Mando's quiet for a minute. You wait, looking up out the window. The sky is a pale pink and blue, with a hint of orange off to the east. A field of cows comes up on your left - your eyes track them as they pass by, wondering what it's like to pet one.

You bet they're soft. Soft and cuddly and so dumb they're cute.

"You have to promise not to laugh."

The words come as a surprise. You look over to Mando, eyes wide and interested.

"Never. Favorite music is sacred."

He sighs. His grip tightens on the wheel, like sharing even a small part of himself causes him distress.

"Tapestry. Carole King," he says, though the words are quiet and guarded.

That wasn't the answer you were expecting. "Really?" you ask, smiling brightly.

He just nods, though he spares a glance towards you, like he's gauging your reaction. You lean back against the seat, turning towards him more fully.

"I wouldn't have guessed. Color me surprised, Mando. You have good taste." It's true. The album's a classic, though more so with girls your age, not guys who pick up hitchhikers and keep rifles in their trucks. "What do you like about it?"

Mando shifts, bringing his left arm up to rest on the door, elbow propped so his head can rest on his hand. "Not sure. She writes a good song, that's all I know."

You're not satisfied with that answer. You'll get to know Mando, even if it's like pulling teeth. "Bull-shit. Pink Floyd writes a good song. Paul Simon writes a good song. Why her? Why that record? It came out like ten years ago, there's gotta be a reason - a real reason - you still like it."

The drone of the engine and the road is like a soundtrack in itself to the silences that loom heavy before every sentence he speaks. You wonder when the last time he really got to talk to someone was - talk like this, not small conversation with the waiter or grocer.

You're no psychiatrist, but it doesn't take a genius to spot someone who's been alone for a while.

Mando hums. "I guess I relate to her songs... in a way I didn't expect to when I first heard her music."

You smile at that, pleased as punch that he trusts you with that information. It's like cupping cool water in your hands on a hot summer's day, fleeting and precious. "What's your favorite song on the record?"

He turns his gaze to your for a moment, dark brown eyes staring at your dirty feet and day-old shirt and messy hair. You're not sure what exactly he sees as he takes you in, but you sit there and allow it regardless.

Mando looks back to the road, watching the small town approaching slowly on the horizon. "I Feel the Earth Move."

You nod. "A classic."

He just hums in response, and you expect the truck to fill with silence once again.

Except it doesn't.

Mando reaches out and presses the button to turn on the radio. Blondie's Heart of Glass flows out through the speakers - and you laugh.

The glowing neon sign advertising Lindy's Diner, with her promise of pancakes and eggs and bacon and coffee, gets you more excited than you care to admit. Mando pulls into a parking spot along the street, and you're out the door before the wheels have stopped turning.

Admittedly, you do also have to pee.

You rush into the diner to take care of your business, also using the provided sinks to brush your teeth and the mirror to comb through your hair with your fingers.

It's not much, but you do feel better. Hopefully tonight you can stay in a motel at least, maybe take a shower.

You exit the restroom and look around the diner. Mando's sitting in a booth, smoking a cigarette and looking out the window. You head over, tossing your backpack into your side first and sliding in after it.

"I'll be right back," he says, and leaves. You watch him walk over to the men's restroom, the door swinging shut behind him.

Whatever. Kinda rude. Not like you care, anyway.

You lean back in the booth and take a menu from the stand at the end of the table. The classic breakfast platter is looking particularly tempting, with its hash browns and bacon and eggs-however-you-like. You're contemplating scrambled versus over-easy when you hear a pair of footsteps walk up to your table.

Two strange men stand over you, looking at you like they know exactly how homeless you really are.

"You here alone, baby?" the shorter one asks, putting a grimy hand on the back of your booth, right behind your head. You open your mouth to say no, in fact, I am not, but the other guy speaks for you.

"It looks like you are, honey. Just our luck, a girl like you all on her -"

"Is there a problem?"

Mando's deep voice cuts through whatever it was the creep was planning to say. The low timbre of his voice, normally soft and kind, is uniquely dark - almost menacing - when it hides a threat.

You slowly cross your legs, hoping no one notices the movement under the table.

The two guys turn, and behind them you see Mando, looking extremely pissed. He puts a hand on the back of the taller man's neck, cig still perched between his fingers, and yanks him away from where he'd been standing in front of Mando's side of the booth.

"Jesus, man! We didn't know you were -"

Mando puts his hands on his hips, eyeing them up like a lion might size up its prey. "What? You didn't know what?"

The guy gulps. "Uh..."

"Come on," Mando taunts, something dark glinting in his eyes. "Don't get nervous on me, now."

"We didn't know you were with her, man. Sorry."

Mando shakes his head. "No. Don't say that to me. Say it to her." He nods hid head towards you, subtly positioning his body in between yours and theirs.

You're frozen in your seat, torn between fear and arousal.

The tall guy glances at you. "Sorry," he mutters. The shorter one's still looking at you funny, though.

Your companion jerks his head towards the door. "It's best you both leave, now."

You realize the diner's gone quiet, customers and employees alike watching the exchange with bated breath. The taller guy glances around and turns, heading straight for the door. His buddy hesitates, gaze shifting from Mando to you and back again. Eventually he also turns to leave, following the other one out.

Mando slides into his seat, though he won't quite meet your gaze when you look at him. Noise picks up in the diner once again and you let out a shaky breath.

You're about to say something when the two guys pass by the window. The shorter one peers in, works his jaw, and spits on the ground on the other side of the window from you. You see him mouth the word 'bitch!'.

Rolling your eyes, you turn to Mando to try and joke about it, attempting to brush off the uncomfortable encounter. But he's not there, and you realize belatedly that he's now storming outside.

Mouth agape, you watch as Mando stalks up to the short guy. Jesus, you think, if looks could kill...

The creep whirls around, throwing a fist at Mando before he even gets a good look at him. Mando dodges it easily with a step back, looking simultaneously murderous and annoyed. He winds his arm back and sends his fist flying at the creep's face. The guy stumbles and falls, clutching at what is now a bloody and broken nose, landing on his back on the sidewalk. His friend has long run off.

Mando puts a boot on the guy's sternum, pressing down so he can't get up no matter how much he struggles.

You see him lean down, elbow on his knee, and say something. The guy's eyes widen and he nods frantically. Mando then removes his foot and, without sparing the guy a second glance, re-enters the diner.

He slides into the booth again and takes the menu from you. There's blood on the knuckles of his right hand, but he makes no move to wipe it off. He flips through the pages as if nothing happened. You stare at him.

"You didn't have to do that," you mutter, voice soft and wavering.

Without looking from the menu, he responds. "Yes, I did."

"But, you coulda just... just let him go..."

"I could have," he replies, and turns a page. "But I didn't."

"But -"

For the first time since you both entered the diner, he looks up at you, and you're taken aback the intensity of his eyes. "He deserved worse, kid. Far worse."

He sounds so sure of it that you can't bring yourself to say otherwise. You sigh and clasp your hands together on the table, unsure of where to go from here.

Just then, the waitress comes up to your table, notepad and pen in hand.

"You two know what ya want?" she asks as Mando puts the menu back in its place.

He gestures for you to go first.

"Uh, yeah. I'll have the classic platter with scrambled eggs and white toast. And black coffee, please."

The woman nods, writing your order on her pad. "And you, sir?"

"I'll have the blueberry flapjacks, please. And coffee, black, for me as well."

The waitress nods and turns away. As you watch her push through the silver kitchen door, you realize that maybe you should be grateful for the way things went. That they didn't get uglier.

That Mando was there at all.

"Thank you," you say softly, doing your best to convey your sincerity to the man sitting across from you.

He simply nods, observing you with a look you can't quite place.

After breakfast, the two of you set off down the highway again. Fleetwood Mac flows out through the speakers and you don't expect to stop until after noon, when Mando will have to refuel (both the truck and your stomachs). Until then you kick off your shoes and put your feet up on the dash, window cracked about an inch so the summer wind can flow through your hair.

Despite the rocky start to the morning, the hours pass by easily, weightlessly. Sometimes you talk with Mando, other times you simply sit and watch the world pass by. You don't think you've ever seen this much land in one go, and it thrills you. The idea that there's so much more.

The topics vary from your time in school to movies to the truck. You're surprised to find out that Mando's never seen Star Wars, a fact nearly unheard of to you. You promise yourself that you'll make him watch it sometime, somehow.

Lunch passes without incident; you insist on paying for your ham and cheese sandwich, because Mando had covered breakfast before you could protest. It hits the spot, along with your ice-cold Coke from the little market's freezer. There's a line to get gas, as there is everywhere, but luckily it isn't too long, since you're in the middle of nowhere. Mando won't be able to fill the truck up again for a few days, meaning you'll have to stop for the night earlier tonight than you did yesterday.

You do find something interesting at the market and you decide to shell out the money for it because it intrigues you. A new style of Kodamatic camera, complete with a pack of instant film - 12 potential photos.

In your mind you see pictures of mountains, and the truck, and Mando, and you stuff the camera in your bag before your mind can wander any further down that road.

You have to admit - traveling with someone who you know can protect you if the need arises is comforting in a way that almost makes you nervous. You keep telling yourself not to get used to it, that this is just a temporary situation for as long as he sees fit to keep you around. After he decides he's had enough, he'll leave you, and you'll be on your own again. You can't get too dependent on him.

Nighttime arrives much too quickly. The sun has just dipped below the horizon when you drive into another small town, not much more than a stoplight and a few bars. You get lucky, though, because the unmistakable neon of a motel glows just ahead.

"Thank god," you groan as Mando pulls into the parking lot. "I need a shower so goddamned bad."

Mando chuckles. His arm rests with his hand out the window, flicking the ash at the end of his cigarette out onto the pavement. The orange glow at the end of it brightens as he takes a drag, and you tear your eyes away from his lips before he can catch you staring.

That's another problem. He's every inch as attractive to you now as he was before, except now you know he's nice. The mustache and the dark curls and the broad expanse of his chest are all only made hotter by the knowledge that he likes Carole King and Elton John (he knew all the words to Tiny Dancer) and blueberry pancakes.

Plus there was that whole punching a guy to defend your honor business.

The guy at the motel's front desk reminds you of Marvin. Greasy blond hair and acne on a kid not much younger than you. You give him a disgusted look when he eyes you up, but he cuts it out when Mando walks in behind you. It gives you a small sense of satisfaction to see him so meek before your companion.

"We need a double for the night," Mando drawls, counting cash on the counter, cig perched between his lips. The sign advertised a night's stay for $22. You'd tried to pay Mando your share, but he'd refused your money.

The kid shakes his head. "Only got singles available."

Mando raises his brows. "Really."

The kid, whose name is Matt according to his name tag, nods. It takes Mando a moment to think on it, and then he looks to you.

You shrug. "I'm fine with it if you are, Mando."

He nods once and pays for the room. 12. You take the key and head over to get a head start on your shower while Mando parks the truck and gets his stuff.

The hot water feels divine. Even the towel feels great, because as threadbare and shitty as it is, it's clean and warm from sitting under the vent. You finish up in the bathroom and emerge in a pair of old track shorts and a loose-fitting tee.

Mando's sitting on the bed, back against the headboard. His jacket's draped across the table and he's kicked off his boots, so he sits with the remote in hand, barefoot. It's the most casual you've seen him thus far, and it makes your heart race.

"Shower's all yours," you tell him.

Mando looks at you from the corner of his eye. It's hard to tell what he's thinking at any given moment, so you fidget with the hem of your shirt as he looks at you.

A thought blooms unbidden in your chest. I wish I could kiss him.

You blink, taken aback at the sudden, intense nature of your desire to feel his lips against your own. Not knowing what else to do, you cross your arms and turn to the TV. Bonanza is on.

"Seen this episode before?" you ask. It's an old show, but you still like it.

Mando nods, humming. "Used to watch these every week, right when they came out. Only the first few seasons, though."

"Why'd you stop?"

He turns to sit on the edge of the bed, feet flat on the ground. He gives you a small smile, though his eyes hide something pained.

"I got drafted."

Oh. "Oh. I didn't mean -"

"It's fine," he says and gets up, brushing past you to enter the bathroom. The door clicks shut behind him.

You walk over to sit on the other side of the bed from where he was. Drafted. Jesus. You feel bad for bringing it up, even if it was unintentional. The TV plays though you aren't watching, mind wandering to thoughts of Mando in Vietnam. You picture him in the jungle or in a helicopter, the deafening noise of artillery and gunfire filling the air around him.

Maybe that's where he got the nickname. It certainly explains the rifle.

You reach over for the remote and shut off the TV. The clock on the wall reads about 8:00, still early for you, but you tuck yourself under the sheets and blanket regardless. You face the door, away from where Mando will sleep.

Just as you're drifting off, the lamp on the bedside table clicks off. You feel the weight of Mando crawling in beside you, and he too curls up on his side, back turned.

You fall asleep hoping he's not too upset with you.

The next thing you know, you're awake, though the world is still dark outside. Behind you, Mando snores softly, warm breath fanning out across your neck.

Wait.

You blink a few times and realize the two of you must have shifted in the night. Mando's body is pressed right against yours, chest to your back, arm draped over your middle and hand tucked under your chin. Your legs are intertwined and against the back of your thigh you feel -

You feel him.

Sleep is a powerful drug, however, and the realization is not enough to make you move. Your eyelids flutter shut, and you think maybe this isn't so bad. Your tired brain convinces you to revel in it, to enjoy this position you've found yourself in. Before you can second guess that reasoning, you drift off.

And then you're awake again.

This time it's thanks to a rush of cold wind in your face. You reach back to feel for Mando, but the warm pillow tells you he's not there. You open your eyes to see him standing in the doorway, looking down at something. It's still dark out, but the lights of the motel parking lot put him in silhouette before you.

"What is it?" You lean up on your elbow to get a better look. The nighttime air is cool on your face, smelling faintly of gasoline and rain.

He bends down and picks up whatever it is that's in front of him. You watch as he turns to look left, then right, seemingly in search of something. He turns around and you see what he's holding.

It's a baby's carrycot.

You immediately sit up, heart racing. "Is it -?" you whisper.

Mando nods, closing the door behind him. You get out of bed and rush over to stand next to him, peering into the carrier.

Sure enough, there's a baby asleep inside. It looks to be a boy, about a year old. You bring a hand up to your mouth.

"Why - who would - what?"

Mando shakes his head, staring at the little guy. "I don't know. I heard a knock at the door and there he was - no sign of anyone else."

"We should - what do we do, Mando?"

He brings the carrier over to rest on the table beside his jacket. The boy is out cold - his little hands grip the blue knitted blanket and his mouth is just barely open. He's got dark hair, wispy and soft atop his head. As you observe the sleeping child, you notice the corner of a small piece of paper tucked in between the blanket and the cradle. You reach out and grasp it between your thumb and forefinger, unfolding it carefully.

"What does it say?" Mando whispers. Your voices are low so as to not disturb the child.

"Grogu. Please take him far from here," you read, and feel your blood run cold as the note goes on. "Not safe in this area. His father is dangerous."

It's scrawled in blue ink on half a sheet of lined notebook paper, the fringe from being torn still attached. Your hands shake as it hits you - there's some mother out there so scared for her son that she left him in the care of strangers. That there's a man out there who legitimately threatens this boy's life.

Tears form at the corners of your eyes, rage and sadness simmering in your chest.

"We have to, Mando." Your words are shaky but certain. The man beside you rests a hand on the carrycot, still looking at the sleeping child within.

You turn your eyes to him. He nods, solemn.

"Let's let him rest. We'll leave in the morning, get as far west as we can. Might even be able to make Texas if we leave early enough. We can figure it out from there."

His other hand brushes against your back, and then he's drawing you into his chest. The embrace is soft, unhurried, and you lean your head against his shoulder, hands tucked against his chest. Letting your eyes slip closed, you think back on the previous day, how you never could have predicted this turn of events. How you've never felt so uncertain of things, even when you'd lost everything.

Together you return to bed, but neither of you gets much sleep.

#din djarin x reader #mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #mandalorian fanfiction #fanfic #din djarin fanfic #star wars fanfiction #star wars fanfic #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x female reader #mando x fem!reader #female reader #fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction

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thoughts-on-bangtan · 3 years

Text

Let’s talk: The importance of curating your space and the cyclical life of ships

by Admin 1

From anon: Hi! I'm a new Army/vminie (4 months) and I have a (maybe dumb) question... When I joined, I saw so many j*/k*okers analysing every small moment between jk and jm and these ppl were everywhere and I couldn't avoid seeing j*/k*ok ship content. However, the past two weeks or so it seems to have shifted and suddenly I see t*e/k*ok ship content everywhere. I wonder, is this shifting a normal occurence? And how do I get rid of these ship contents in spaces that are supposed to be free of these 2 ships

Having been around for quite some time, I’ve come to think of the big ships as something very akin to extremely sensitive seismometers. Instead of detecting even the smallest movement or noise in relation to earthquakes or volcanic activity, these ship seismometers react to any and all activity (as in any kind of “moments” or what they perceive as such) in very “volatile” manners, for a lack of better words.

What do I mean by that?

Like you said, there was a long phase after Dynamite came out where the mood had shifted toward J*k*ok because we got more content in which we could see those two interact, even if later on we also got content from the same sets and time in which both members involved were seen interacting with other members, but that didn’t matter. So, obviously, shippers took this as grand sign, the seismometer drawing numbers like ones you’d get when you have an extreme earthquake, but in this case it was a positive thing. Every new “moment” or anything they perceived as such caused big reactions, loud enough to even reach far beyond their space and instead was heard also in general ARMY spaces or those of other shippers etc. But, there’s also the opposite effect, as in, volatile reactions, or big reactions, when there are several pieces of content one after the other where said ship doesn’t interact or doesn’t have any “moments”. In cases like that euphoria quickly shifts into “insecurity” (though they would never admit to that) and worry, occasionally also defensiveness and attacks.

Imagine a scenario like this: lets say we get five Bangtan B*mbs. The first one has main ship A interact, the next one doesn’t have either of the two ships, the third one was has main ship B interact, as well as in video four and five.

Those who were happy with the first video will be casual/neutral about the second one, but as they get the third, fourth and fifth, the seismometer for them inevitably turns from extremely positive to extremely negative. While for B it’s the exact opposite, going from negative to extremely positive with YT and sns exploding with announcements of “B ships is back” or “B are in love after all, BH has freed them” or anything along those lines.

What I’m trying to say is that yes, this is normal. The big ships and their shippers lead a very cyclical life, which also means they never quite “disappear” either. They are always there, waiting, and then jump on any piece of a moment they get with big reactions, and in the time where they have nothing, chances are the toxic part of their community will go into attack mode instead, like that will change anything at all. We’ve seen other ships come and go, nearly disappear just to have some kind of revival months or even years later, or “new” ships win the favor of the masses. There are also a few ships that have steadily existed for most of the past eight years without any volatile shifts or changes, but those are generally the quieter ones ignored or actively campaigned against/discredited ones by the big ships and their shippers.

Hyung line ships are generally seen as more “niche”/overlooked, or just some background extras for fanfics or something ML shippers enjoy since the aren’t an active “threat”, like Namjoon x Yoongi or Yoongi x Hobi which have been around forever and I don’t think I’ve ever really seen (or heard about) anyone have fights about them or even fights between those two camps, since most shippers have an almost laser like focus on the maknaes and especially JK.

The funny thing in all of this, if you can even call it that, is that none of it really depends on the members themselves. In all this time they haven’t changed their behavior much at all, their bonds haven’t drastically or dramatically changed, and certain members didn’t magically go from “hating” each other to suddenly becoming couples over night or vise versa. It’s all shipper interpretations, theories and conspiracies being layered on top of what people see on screen to make things more “interesting”, even if that means actively going against what the members have said themselves and who the members are, as in their personalities but also in relation to each other.

And this brings me to my next point, the importance of curating your own space.

Here it’s important to know what kind of a TL or ARMY sns experience do you want. Do you want to just focus on your bias with a side of OT7 with gifs and pictures and nothing else? Do you want to have more of an eye on how BTS is doing on the charts? Have more discourse and discussions on the TL you can follow or actively participate in? Or do you want a mix of it all?

Personally I’m very picky in who I follow and what kind of content I add to my TL by following an account. Generally I think it’s important to check every account you consider following to make sure they aren’t one of the following things: akgae, manti, solo stan, toxic shipper, or a victimizing sheep. While I do follow a number of ship centric accounts, because I like seeing vmin and namjin on my TL, I find it extremely important to follow several trustworthy ARMY translators as well as a number of non-ship centric ARMY accounts that just focus on Bangtan as a whole.

The block button is your friend. I know it might seem drastic or mean to just block random people, but in the long run you will be thankful for it since it will keep toxic content away from your space, regardless if toxic in a solo stan sense or a ship one. If you’re on twt you can also mute certain words and # so they don’t show up on your TL either, make use of that if you feel a need for it. Eventually though the algorithm learns what you gravitate toward, and if you follow a well curated number of accounts, the things you don’t want to see simply won’t appear where you can see them.

On YT, as far as I’m aware, in the recommended section you can mark videos you don’t like as not being interested in them and even mark whole channels as something you don’t want to have recommended to you. Since I don’t watch any ship related videos, I never get any recommended to me despite watching BTS videos (though I mostly stick to their official accounts and wherever else they performed).

It’s important to create a space in which you just see the content you want, but still pay attention to not just bury yourself in a ship bubble since that can be a slippers slope and you might end up accidentally turning yourself toxic on accident, too sure of your thoughts and end up growing resentful moments where a member of your ship interacts with someone else in the group. That’s when you know you’ve gone several steps to far, since above all else, we are ARMY before we are vminnies or namjinists or anything else. We can love our chosen duo, we can love our bias(es), but we should always listen to what the members have to say and trust them. After all Tae (and the other members) has asked us several times to love all seven, so that’s what I do. They are all incredibly lovable, and their bonds with each other all precious and wonderful in their own ways and worthy of appreciation, so I don’t understand those who feel hatred against any of them.

Curate your space but always keep a healthy mix of general ARMY and ship content, if you are someone who partakes in shiperverse activities, and stay as far away as possible from manipulative YT videos and accounts with toxic narratives and motives.

From anon: hey! read your new post re: curating your own space. don't know if you'll answer this, but is there any "must follow" accounts on twt (for translations, vmin, and bts in general) that you can recommend? I'm new to the site and made an account for bangtan only, but there's just so much going on there that it can get confusing. Also found out that there are many troll accs, fake 'nice' accs, too much drama accs etc that can give you a bad experience.

Here’s a large selection of translators and a smaller selection of other accounts that I think are worth following, especially BTSChartData. Also, whatever you do, don’t follow the BTS ARMY twt account with 4M+ followers or however many they might have at this point.

I’d also be very weary of member specific fanbases and chart accounts since they are known as perfect breeding grounds for solos, akgae and mantis, unfortunately, and some have been exposed for being akgae themselves.

#BTS #vmin #namjin

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waywardavatarenthusiast · 3 years

Text

I Wish We Weren’t Just a Joke

So, I saw a post about the hypersexualization of Sokkla, and I won’t get into it, but it made me think. Is that why we aren’t taken seriously? Why else aren’t we taken seriously? So, here are my thoughts as to what we could do to make it out of the rare pair phase and get a chance at the things that bigger ships in this fandom do.

Branch out. It sounds vague, but by branch out I mean going into corners of the fandom that aren’t so pro-sokkla. Not to start discourse (we don’t wanna end up like the Zutara fandom) but on every platform, I’ve noticed that the few Sokkla pages I find are only mutuals or active with...other Sokkla pages. Follow a Maiko page or a Kataang page or two. Talk to them. If they won’t interact because you ship something that doesn’t even affect their otp, that’s no ones problem.

Participate in everything. If you see a post or a thread where people are taking about their favorite ships, list yours. If there’s a zine or challenge for writing or making content and it doesn’t explicitly state that it’s for a certain ship or type of ship, jump in.

People want the deep stuff. The sokka memes are fun. But the Sokkla platonic besties agenda is more popular on twitter than the ship itself. And it’s obvious that the whole thing is done just to silence romantic Sokkla shippers and keep them sidelined. Excess memes, crazy ideas and art, it’s for crackships. I want to see metas, headcanons, inside jokes within the fandom, specific tropes for the fandom (and not that early Sokka s*x slave stuff, please.)

Speaking of content, can we get more of it? I know that it takes work. I struggle to finish my own fics. But if you can tell a decent story, please do. If you can make a decent drawing, please do. People will notice the ship a lot more if the content is popping onto their feed.

This place is nice, and I can talk to whatever Sokkla shipper I want, but it doesn’t really feel like a community. It feels like a small group of authors releasing content with a few authors on the outskirts and a bunch of Sokkla fans eating the content up.

Publicity comes with hate, and discourse. I know. For every one person you get to like Sokkla, five more will write dumb random posts about how cursed it is and how they don’t get it because they have nothing to say with real substance. But when ten people make content, five more are inspired to do the same. I want to have people to talk about this ship about outside of fanfiction reviews and comments.

#sokkla #azula x sokka #Avatar Fandom #avatar the last airbender #atla

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alo-piss-trancy · 3 years

Note

Ok hi, I didn't wanna say anything, but please don't write knifeplay/bloodplay for Yuri. I def don't wanna spoil anything, but it's learned on a certain route that Yuri has a s*lf h*rm problem (I'll leave it at that).

You honestly seem like you're not trying to be a jerk with this ask, so I'm going to do my best to answer this as politely as possible without compromising my personal beliefs on the matter. This is going to be long and a little serious, but please note I'm not attacking you or trying to start a debate. I'm just laying all my thoughts on this down at once so I make myself clear, because a short answer would leave a lot of nuance out.

I understand what you're trying to do here. For the record though, I also considered that a pretty massive spoiler and I did not appreciate that at all. Even if you all think you're 'helping', don't do that again. Y/uri was pretty much the only character I'd managed to avoid most spoilers on and you killed the surprise for me. This game is already so full of fluffy 'filler' in the beginning that I don't have a ton of big plot points to look forward to in each route.

Now, I realise this is a very delicate topic and incredibly triggering to some people, especially with those two things combined. I am 100% willing to tag it with just about any variation needed to ensure you or others affected can blacklist/block it and never have to see a word of it in the future. I'd also be happy to go back and tag that original text post I made if needed. I mean that. You all are welcome to ask me to tag things anytime, and so long as you're polite about it I'm perfectly willing to oblige to the best of my ability in future posts! If I occasionally forget, just toss me a light reminder and I'll jump into editing and add it in.

That said, I want to make it clear that I am very firmly against censorship. I'm willing to take all necessary precautions to ensure people can curate their experiences on this blog and AO3, but at the end of the day I can still post whatever fictional stuff I choose to. As can anyone else. Same goes for more formally published media.

Now, it's entirely possible I would have gotten to that part of the game and decided 'oh dang, I'm not so enthused about that fic idea anymore...'. My whims and ideas change frequently, and what you mentioned is a heavy topic with a lot to unpack and process. It's also entirely possible that future plot would only provide more fuel.

Fyi, when I originally mentioned the knifeplay I was actually thinking a lot more along the lines of her doing it to the protagonist, not the reverse. But for the record, if I did choose to write it with focus on Y/uri, I would still be well within my rights to.

This next part of my answer is going to address some heavy topics, this is your warning!!!

Sometimes people's kinks are a way to take a thing that is personally scary or upsetting to them and find a way to reverse it. To find pleasure or power or get used to the idea of the awful thing in a safe, controlled fashion. I'm not going to go into the full details on this because there's plenty of explanation and research elsewhere already written up, as well as an excellent book on the subject, and I'm not turning this blog into a discourse debate. But I needed to mention it for my point.

There are plenty of stories that could be explored with Y/uri in this context. Did she have this kink before the self harm events started and it was completely unrelated, or did she develop it afterwards? How did she discover it beforehand? If developed afterwards, did it start out as another way of harming mixed with pleasure in a self-destructive way, often done sloppily and without proper technique? Or was it strictly used as almost exposure therapy to deal with those urges and thoughts in a safer, more contained scenario, maybe even allowing the partner she trusted to wield the knife to prove their bond/reinforce that she can be loved without being hurt deeply, that she is worthy of affection and trust and loyalty. Maybe this finally helps give Y/uri a tool to embrace her 'weirdness' without harming herself and others. Or, what if she thinks it can be a useful tool and is sure she's ready, but partway through the scene she gets triggered or has flashbacks... how does she deal with it? How does her partner? Can it be overcome with effort, research, and taking things slowly, or does she realize this kink is actually completely off the table for her?

What if she has this kink and is excited to try it, but her partner isn't? How does she take that rejection? Or do her poor social skills mean she skipped negotiation to begin with and attempted it in the middle of a vanilla session? Would her partner freak out or even get mad, or try to swallow their fear and let her do it so they don't hurt/offend her, even at the cost of their own comfort?

This topic also opens a ton of potential plots for darkfic, but I'll refrain from discussing that out of respect for you and others.

So as you can see, there's much more to explore than 'Knife=Hot'. I believe those discussions and ideas are necessary and provide important fuel for thought when explored fictionally, especially since mainstream media doesn't cover a lot of them.

~~~

I feel I should take a second to clarify knifeplay for those who may be unaware. It doesn't always equate to actual cutting/drawing blood. That can be an aspect, but usually only by those far more experienced and, you know, actually into that. A lot of participants don't actually go that far. Mostly, it's either about the physical sensation of the knife touching you at all, or the adrenaline/controlled fear and intimate trust of a partner bringing an object like that so close/teasing you with it.

In fact, it's frequently advised in those circles (especially to newcomers) to use a dull butterknife instead, because it simulates the same feelings of metal on skin/can dig in a little without any real risk of cutting/drawing blood. Even if one chooses to use a different knife, it's still pretty common to dull the blade, or some people even substitute with a closed pair of scissors (combined with the partner blindfolded, you can't really tell it apart from the real thing).

These versions of knifeplay are well controlled and ultimately pretty harmless, so long as both parties know what they're doing and stay alert. And more experienced players with sharper knives are even more cautious/have studied extensively to know where/how deep to go without risking scarring/serious injury.

Remember the golden rules of kink: Safe. Sane. Consensual.

With those in place, it is not nearly the same as self harm. Just as controlled, consensual, well-negotiated BDSM with safewords, respected boundaries and a trusted partner is never in the same league as abuse.

~~~

Now that that's out of the way, back to my point:

There's no perfect representation or narrative for everyone, in any group (be that gender/sexuality/triggered by certain things, etc). Every human being is different, everyone interprets media differently, and everyone takes away different elements from stories.

What one person in a particular group may find cathartic, relateable, or painful but necessary food for thought, another may find completely repulsive, personally hurtful, offensive, something they can't stand to hear. And guess what? Both of those can be true at the same time. One side is not immediately right over the other.

There are queer characters or interpretations of them in fics that I vehemently despise, might even find hurtful or sickening and think 'how can anyone create this, it's insufferable! People in 'my group' aren't like that, it's a horrible representation. I can't relate to it at all!' But you know what? Other people can and do, may find comfort in those exact narratives and experiences, may heal their pain instead of inflicting more. And that's great. It's what they needed or wanted and if I don't like it, I click away and do my best to avoid it.

There are specific tropes and narrative themes I personally cannot get through without being triggered into anxiety attacks or dragged back to bad times and places in my life. Sometimes I see them tackled in ways that are hurtful or seem insensitive to me. But I recognise that for someone else, it's exactly what they needed to see to get through that or come to terms with it, or see a way they wish that thing could play out. I would never dream of telling those people they aren't allowed to enjoy it, OR telling the creator of that piece of media or a tv show 'Hey ummm please don't use this plot because it turns me into a human wreck for a week'. Because it's not remotely my place to do so. They can create whatever they want, they have no responsibility towards me or my well being. A few might be kind enough to include a warning at the beginning of that episode or in the description, but they are in no way required to. It's up to me to curate my experience and try to keep my guard up/research what might have those tropes, and in the rare occasions I get blindsided, yeah, it hurts like hell. I struggle, I might even backslide a bit. But I just have to try my best to deal with it and make a note to be more careful next time. Because you can't control the world around you, not even the online world, and you have absolutely no right to. The only right you have is to protect yourself without infringing on other people's boundaries/rights.

And there's also another important point. There doesn't have to be a big important point or explanation for why a creator creates something, or why consumers can enjoy that creation! If someone wants to create a plotline with all of my triggers used in the most 'insensitive', 'wrong', pointless ways possible, strictly for Entertainment or pure kink material instead of some deep dissection of the issues involved? They can go hog wild!!! They are 100% allowed to do so on this earth, and I can't (and wouldn't want to) do a thing to stop them.

One person can read a kink fic and it hits a very emotional theme for them/they think it explores a deep topic well. Another person can read that same fic and get nothing out of it except their rocks off. Both of those readers are completely equal and 'allowed' to enjoy that fic. Both reasons are completely valid reasons for why the creator was 'allowed' to post/create that fic in the first place. Nobody needs permission, nobody has to answer to anybody except themselves. Period. This extends to any topic, any type of fic.

Yes, even for things I find absolutely abhorrent and insensitive and don't understand/want to read ever. I may resent everything about its existence, but I will defend to death the creator's right to make it exist in the first place.

It only affects me if I let it affect me. If someone's making content I despise or am upset by and can't handle, I can choose to ignore or avoid them, blacklist those tags, I can block them and move on with my day. I can do anything within my own bubble, but the second I consider going into their bubble and saying they can't make that thing, I am in the wrong. Because I'm not respecting their space and rights.

If someone makes cookies with ingredients I'm highly allergic to, pastes the ingredient warnings all over the box where I read them, and I still eat one, would anyone cheer me on for blaming them when I have a reaction? Would anyone think it was remotely okay of me to start calling up every bakery in town and saying they weren't allowed to bake those cookies EVER, because some people somewhere might be allergic?

No. They'd tell me I was crossing the line, because I'm infringing on other people's boundaries and lives. I'm expecting everybody else to take responsibility for something that, while horrible and painful, was my fault for touching.

Now, if someone sets out unlabelled cookies not realizing I'm allergic to something in them, and I eat it and have a reaction, that sucks. It's an awful experience. But is it the baker's fault? As long as they didn't do it maliciously, not really. They can be advised politely to label it in the future, and I can do my best to remember to ask/be more cautious next time I come across something I'm unsure of, but they're still allowed to bake those cookies for themselves and others.

Now, if I deliberately baked cookies with an ingredient that people are very frequently allergic to (ex. peanuts) and set it out in a crowded buffet without a warning label, that's a jerk move. That's intentionally trying to cause harm to others. But simply baking that flavour of cookies still isn't a crime or harmful by itself.

~~~

I'll be honest, I'm running out of steam and I think I've said most of what I have to say, so I'll wrap it up. I want to reiterate that I'm not ripping into you with this long answer, anon! I understand why you sent me what you did and I'm trying not to come off as harsh. I'm happy to go back and tag things and will tag anything else similar in the future!!! But at the end of the day, regardless of whether I personally end up writing that fic or not, or even want to after I get to that plot, I don't agree with telling anyone they can't/shouldn't write it at all. I wanted to try and explain my viewpoint thoroughly, and I hope you can respect that, just as I'll respect and try to accommodate you and other followers. This is the only time I'll really get up on a soapbox like this, and I have no interest in debating these things on my blog further, but it is a topic I've been passionate about all my life so I'm afraid I'm not budging on it.

#bear gets a letter #not omo #tw knives #tw knifeplay #tw cutting #tw self harm #d/dlc spoilers

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dbhthingsandstuff · 5 years

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A Quick Thing

A while ago I asked if my followers would be okay with me doing these “ask games” occasionally, and the response to that post was very positive. So far, I’ve only done two and those were a rather long time ago now. And since then I’ve gotten a bunch of requests for what kind of ask game thing I should do next.

The most popular of these request have been the “Controversial opinion” game; the basics of this ask game is very simple, followers are supposed to send the blogger controvesial opinions and the blogger then has to respond. But I’m going to say this now: If I’m even going to do any ask games again, I’m not gonna jump head first into any controversial topics.

This is mostly because of my own mentality about what I want this blog to be. I don’t want it to become a place where people are screaming and cussing each other out over their opinions on certain aspects of D:BH and “everyday” things. I, like every other person on this planet, have my opinions of things and very rarely are my opinions changed because of one single persons input, especially if that input has been forcefully presented to me. I want this to be a place where we can peacefully and rationally discuss things, when I’m not posting incorrect quotes.

The last time discourse happened on this blog, it was something that took quite a long time for me to get over, and, to be honest, I’m still not quite over it yet. I don’t consider myself a victim of that particular situation. However, I did see myself as an unwilling participant thrust into that particular subject with next to no reason.

I will not post on any controversial subject, even very simple controversial subjects (if those even exist), unless it is something that I feel very strongly about, and even then I will be hesitant, because the last thing I want to do is spread more hate in this time where there’s plenty of it.

So, to those of you still sending me these ask game requests, I appreciate that you want to interact with me more and I certainly want to interact with you too, but not quite in the way that might cause controversy and hate.

#not an incorrect quote #not dbh #personal #blog things

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caraidean · 5 years

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Surrender || Ishtar

Participant(s): Ishtar; Ced; Tine (@sireneia); Implied Finn & Febail

Words: 1,625

Type: Cutscene / Drabble

Summary: Ishtar takes to the field of battle towards the end of the war, determined to die fighting. Tine interrupts her fatal duel with Ced, and makes her change her mind.

Content Warning: Suicidal thoughts; Injury; Character Death (Mentioned); Attempts at a more Free-Indirect Discourse-y writing style that maybe hasn’t worked out so hot, excuse the grammar; Potential overuse of the ‘-’ punctuation mark.

She was going to die here. But she'd be damned if she couldn't take someone with her.

Ishtar wasn't really sure how to speak about her emotions anymore, all of them swirling inside her and out of her and mixing with the lightning dancing along her arms like a storm - it was like every bolt she threw at the liberation army was a piece of her anger, or her fear, or her sadness or her guilt or her-

She wasn't sure when her screams of anger turned into pain, or when the first returning blow had struck her, but it didn't matter. A wave of her hand and another bolt would knock that man with the lance off his horse, a swing of both of them crashing down would force the archer to move before the hill he was using as a vantage point was cleaved in half, a point and a howled word would send more arcing from her fingers to impale that green-haired-

It didn't work out like that. The green-haired man, the one she'd fought before, the hidden scion of Silesse - his own tome flared, and he seemed to split the sky in front of him, the bolt sent crashing to ground either side of him rather than spearing him as she had intended. Ishtar's eyes narrowed and she forced herself to restrain her emotions, letting out a shaky breath.

She was going to die here. But if she could take down at least one other Holy Weapon user as a parting gift for her love...that would be worth it. Even if her love was far gone. Or was he? Had she jumped to the right conclusion after speaking with Arvis? She was confused and hurt and angry and she wanted it all to go away-

The wind flared, and Ishtar raised her arms, lightning cracking the sky in two and protecting her from the worst of his blow. The rest of the armies - both hers and this 'Liberation' army - had backed off for the moment, understandably not wanting to get caught in the crossfire of this kind of clash. She stared at him, trying to glare but failing to muster up any kind of energy in her gaze other than dead, blank eyes.

She knew that was the case when the look Ced gave her was one of pity, not fear or respect. And it drove her insane. Ishtar let out another conflicted howl, casting an arm forwards and reveling in the only thing she could really fully believe in right now.

I am the Goddess of Thunder. I am the storm.

Ced managed to batter it aside with yet another redirecting gust, but Ishtar wouldn't let up - just wouldn't give him the time to muster his own attack. She was aware that she was leaving her guard horrifically open, leaving herself defenseless against any reasonable counterattack by any other member of his army, but she didn't care. All those lessons on how to fight properly that her father had rapped into her, his own lightning punching into her stomach again and again until she learned? Useless.

Bloom had never had to fight like this. He'd used it a few times, perhaps, but he had never really understood what Mjolnir was capable of. Not like Ishtar did. She felt something trickling down her cheeks, and for a brief second she wondered when she'd started crying. That second was all Ced needed, stepping past one of her wildly thrown bolts and lashing out with a hand, wind gathering lashing out before she could have a chance to muster a guard-

She felt the deep cut spring up along her leg and she howled in pain, falling down to one knee as a hand moved to clutch the gaping wound in her shin. It was a miracle she hadn't lost the leg, that the blast hadn't cut through bone- he didn't have the time to focus it correctly. He does now-

Ishtar managed to get a defense up in time to stop what must have been Ced's intended coup de grace, a bolt of lightning robbing his wind of its momentum - splitting it into a dozen shards that criss-crossed her arms, face and torso, leaving shallow cuts that all started to bleed profusely despite their depth. She couldn't see out of one eye anymore, but pushed her counter, forcing Ced back on the defensive even as she slowly stood up with only one good leg.

"Please. Stop." Ced said quietly, and the words made Ishtar's blood boil. How dare he tell her to stop fighting? What did he have to fight for! Everything! What did she have left to fight for? Nothing! She had nothing left to lose and nothing left to gain and all she knew was the lightning dancing through her blood and she would cast him down for saying such a thing-

She wasn't sure which of the bolts she'd thrown had been the one to strike Ced in the side and cast him to the ground, but she could smell the seared flesh and smiled viciously. Nailed him. She could hear yells of panic and screams from the Liberation army - good, let's see you react to losing one of your own, like you took Reinhardt and Ishtore and Liza from me - and raised one hand, gathering another bolt that would reduce Ced and Holsety both into ash-

"Ishtar, PLEASE!"

She stared numbly through her one eye not blinded with blood. Tine was crouched over Ced's prone body, the prince weakly muttering for her to get away, not to do this - but Tine was staring at her, tears running down her face as she pleaded with her cousin.

"Please, Ishtar. Please. We don't have to fight like this." Tine begged. Ishtar growled, and could feel her arm shake. Could she do this? Could she strike down her cousin? She figured the bolt would have enough power to take her and Ced both, but her mouth was dry and despite the lightning on her fingertips she couldn't muster the will to strike down.

"Please." Tine said weakly, and she could have sworn she saw Tine's hand move to clasp Ced's and squeeze for a moment. "Just not him. Please, Sister, not him."

Sister.

"Get out of the way, Tine." She said weakly, her arm slowly shifting to point at the two - the lightning crackling into an orb in her open palm, staring at them with trembling knees. "I'll go through you if I have to."

"No." Tine mumbled, seeming to brace herself. "You won't."

Ishtar released the bolt, and in that exact moment felt something inside her scream in revulsion. What had she turned into? Gods, she was about to kill- no. Somehow, and she wasn't sure how, but Tine managed to parry the half-hearted bolt of lightning - but it was clear how much more it took out the younger girl. Meeting even a weak blast from a Holy Weapon with naught but a normal tome was a feat that could burn out most mages, and it was clear to Ishtar she couldn't do it again, Tine crumpled over Ced.

Their hands still clasped. Dammit, why? Ishtar staggered over and grabbed Tine by the shoulder, pulling her off him - ignoring her shouts and pleas not to, or her feeble struggles to stop her - and stared at the prone prince. Then Ced's eyes snapped open, and Ishtar had a bare instant of a second to gather a defense before a ball of wind crashed into her chest.

There hadn't been a cutting edge to it - but the sheer force made her ribs crack and sent her sprawling onto her back almost twenty feet away, head smacking against the ground and making her black out for the briefest of moments. Tasting blood in her tongue Ishtar tried to stand back up, but she could see Ced approaching her - not even walking. Flying. The man was fucking flying towards her. Bastard.

"Do it then." Ishtar said bitterly, fingers digging into the earth. She couldn't feel the lightning anymore, couldn't muster up the strength to keep fighting, not with her injuries. Ced paused, hesitant, and all of Ishtar's emotions came rushing back - tears mixing with the blood coating her face as she screamed at him. "DO IT! KILL ME!"

"Alright." Ced said in a quiet voice, and Ishtar closed her eyes - she could hear the wind gather, hear the voices it seemed to be pulling with it along the way - and then it stopped. She opened them and let out a groan of despair as she saw Tine standing between the two, having a heated argument with Ced, or as heated as she could in her exhausted state. The rest of the Liberation Army was advancing as well, and she was certain that at least one of them would have to be ruthless or opportunistic enough to sneak a knife between her ribs while she lay there.

She'd tried to kill Tine. That thought stabbed through her gut and hurt worse than any of her other wounds, enough to make her eyes widen and vision grow clearer even through her concussed state. She'd called her sister. She'd looked after her for so long, and she tried to repay her by - by -

What had she turned into? Some monster like the beast that was calling himself Julius?

"It's alright." Ishtar said weakly, and Tine turned to her. Ishtar unclasped Mjolnir from her belt and weakly tossed it at Ced's feet, rolling onto her back and trying - and mostly failing - to sit up.

"...I surrender."

#Goddess of Lightning;Ishtar #Forwards!;In Character #My Fics #Take a Load Off;Base Conversation

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betadereader · 3 years

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It’s “just” fiction.

How many of us have come across the typical phrase "it's just fiction"? Starting from a personal basis, I have always found it as a justifying sentence of an author with its content. And if the author has to get away with this defense, it is because someone has previously questioned said content.

To begin with, I will clarify a point. Writing about a murder does not make you a murderer, just as writing a rape does not make you a rapist; role-playing a sadistic and abusive character does not make you that character, acting in your real environment just like them.

In the world there are people who know how to separate the line of fiction and reality very well, while others do not. However, this is not the focus of this essay. I wanted to focus on the undervaluation of fiction in that very phrase "it's just fiction." I am going to articulate it with several examples that have occurred or continue to occur in reality, in addition to raising a series of questions.

For better or for worse, the news media have configured a heritage of History. We are aware of History because there is written and / or audiovisual material, but the story offered by the media may not represent History itself. We know the version of history that they tell us.

If I have gone to a very current example, the simple fact of creating a story in the format of an informative speech does not always reflect 100% of the object that occurred.

With information abuse (the saturation of information) and so-called fake news, they also have the possibility of affecting the user's conscience, despite being a totally invented, fictitious story.

Again, for better or for worse, and putting history and the media together, people tend to learn history more easily with fiction series. The fictional discourse can be educational and, at the same time, not represent History as such, trivializing some political aspects or creating a polarized world of black and white; good vs. bad.

I also wanted to highlight a sociological experiment that was carried out on television, replicating Milgram's experiment.

Milgram's original experiment, now cataloged by several experts as immoral, reflected very favorable results for the scientific community in its day. His main objective was to study the forms of obedience and whether they could find connection with those condemned during the Nazi era. Translated to the television world, in the documentary The Game of Death, they wanted to see to what extent a game show could become an authority, in addition to coming up with several theories.

Like the original experiment, an agentic state (sometimes conformism too) was found in the contestant, relegating all authority to the guidelines of the program. There is an additional theory that mentions “belief perseverance”. In the contest, electric shocks are given to a subject who cannot be seen but can be heard. As the program progresses, the greater the intensity of the shock. Obviously it is an experiment and the pain is acted out, but in the participant —who did not know that they were part of the experiment— the following belief came up: "I can't really be hurting him because this is television."

“This is television” as a synonym for prior planning and pure spectacle; as a synonym for falsehood; just fiction.

I mentioned this example because, especially at the beginning of the documentary, it denounces a normalization of violence and physical and emotional torture on television. It denounces, also at the end, that commercial televisions, in their desire for money, "teach us that it is normal to humiliate, eliminate and be sadistic." (It’s an old documentary but if you want to see it, click here. It’s in French, I’m sorry).

Continuing with sociological experiments, how many experiments have tried to study the link between violence and video games? Or sexism and video games? Or xenophobia and video games? Or nationalism and video games?

It should be said that the last mentioned are more common in the attitude of the player, using the video game as an expressive way to say whatever they want. However, we cannot ignore that, like historical television series, video games can also serve for nationalist discourses by demonizing the enemy and sanctifying themselves (especially when talking about video games which main topic is war).

I do not wish to dwell too much on each of the questions raised, since the emphasis is not the result of these experiments, but the undeniable interest and concern on the community of experts, as well as more and more students who are interested in these problems in order to analyze and debate them.

We are not indifferent to the images or books we consume. No matter how invented a story is, it stirs up real emotions. We grow with the media (traditional or digital media) and the content they have to offer us. There is socialization with the media at a very early age, and when we grow up we continue to learn from them.

Media acts on our emotions. And the stories that are told to us through media help to frame a collective imagination that even affects the vision of reality itself. Reality can also help build fictional worlds. And so the cycle would begin, since new ideals in fiction can act as a mirror for a future society and/or perpetuate harmful values (especially when under romantic treatments). They are two worlds that feed into each other.

For this reason the famous so-called "romantic love" has been so analyzed and criticized for promoting toxic ideas such as 1) love is the final happiness of every person and we are not complete otherwise, 2) we must to depend on someone else consider ourselves a "whole", 3) "for love everything is forgiven", "true love is eternal" and more idealizations that impacts on society and its perspective of love.

(Closely linked to romantic love, monogamy has been accused of being toxic and I wanted to make a small point that the decision of a closed relationship is as valid as an open relationship, and that an open relationship can be as toxic as a closed one. Here everything is said).

If fiction lacked that power, censorship would never have existed. The witch hunt in Hollywood or censorship that existed in the USSR for the control of the media and its content should not have happened. And many more historical contexts that I am ignoring. Governments were afraid of a content contrary to the predominant ideology, because it could break and violate their established values.

If fiction lacked power, propaganda would also lack power. Propaganda, especially in the context of dictatorships, offers a cult of personality; they idolize, endow dictators with divine values.

We just have to see the television advertising: it is all an idealized, invented version of the product. Don't give me that you've never been disappointed in buying the real product because "it wasn't like it was on TV."

We just have to see how certain groups in society (racial groups, different sexual orientation and gender identity groups, cultural ...) demand to be participants in fictional stories because fiction configures a mirror of the real world, where they are already participants.

Okay, taking a step closer to the "it's just fiction" statement ... so why do film academies exist? Depending on the film, they work with fiction to a greater or lesser degree, but it is still fiction. Why would there be jobs that are dedicated to worlds which work with fiction, if that is worthless? If "it was only fiction" nobody would pay for a movie or a book. And the same happens with television and animation series; no one would consume them. Any story that contains fiction, that is, any made-up story (depending on the needs of the script and the historical context), has no value.

By the same logic, any literary work would not have survived in memory and the writers we know as the "classics" would no longer be. By the same logic, any artistic movement (theater arts, literature, audiovisual and more), would have fallen into oblivion and its formal codes by which they acquire identity, would not be worthy of analyzing and studying.

Because what difference does it make. It is just fiction. Nothing happens for the massive creation of very questionable content (the topics of which this blog will address later).

Continuing with this essay, does anyone remember 50 Shades of Grey trilogy? Yes, that mess that originated (if I remember correctly) as a Twilight bad fic. How much movement was there on social networks denouncing an abusive and toxic relationship? Apart from BDSM and the criticism that it was painfully written (I started reading it by laughing and ended up wanting to tear my eyes out), there were countless posts in which the relationship of the characters was analyzed. Many voiced their complaint and amazement at how a book that focuses on and romanticizes a toxic relationship could hit the market.

I suppose that something problematic is even more when it becomes popular and it is about making money with it. And probably publishers don’t give a damn because they're going to make money anyway. Although the world of FanFiction is not destined —in principle— for commercialization, the fic that romanticizes problematic subjects is not "less important" for this reason, because it can do the same damage. There is a vast "FanFiction culture", and more than one fic has made the jump to the market. We have all seen a book with its brilliant promotion of "phenomenon on Wattpad".

Fickers —writers of FanFiction— are not film or television producers. It is good that FanFiction (and like FF we have Wattpad and AO3) is not a strictly professional universe. A fic, like a movie or a television series or a video game, can narrate very murky and dark things from life. A story can talk about drugs (or other types of addictions), the inhumanity of war, torture, sexism, rape, pedophilia and more that I’m ignoring. You can do it from the critical perspective of the characters and their actions, or from the point of view of the addict, inhuman, sadistic, sexist, rapist or pedophile respectively with the aforementioned.

Why if the producer/writer who whitewashes the image of pedophilia or terrorism (for example) or romanticizes them is considerated as a pedophile or as a terrorist but nothing is said against romanticization and the subsequent normalization of rape in the FanFiction world?

That question is one of many examples of harmful behavior by content creators, which toxicity can be seen thorugh fiction. That question is one from many others that this Tumblr account wants to develop as essays.

Because fiction is not “just” fiction. Whoever wants to rely on this phrase, is the equivalent of being a shameless person... as something to begin with.

#fiction #power of fiction #long post #essay writing

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autoirishlitdiscourses · 3 years

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Discourse of Thursday, 11 March 2021

Thraneen p. I'll have to get me a copy of your discussion to get back to see Dexter as admirable, and you've done a lot of things very, very well here: you should pick from the guy who's going to structure your discussion plans by Friday and get you a five-minute and two-minute and two-minute warning relative to the deadline and didn't get to what you want to avoid presenting a reading, but rather of the nine options; he also wrote the shortest acceptable one, but all in all, who can tell you? The underlying assumption is that you will just not show, take a look at my email during the quarter is in any case, bring me documentation from the paper prompt, but th' silk thransparent stockin's showin' off; dropping warm from Out in th' pan'; freedom that ain't the silky thransparent stockings that show but I'm quite glad that you performed the selection. This means that you are looking for other topics open for those risks. Here's what I get is that the most famous parts of the poem and get me your recitation 5% of the play's rhythm in the dialogue and showed that you can make your claims even more detailed lesson plan, you're on the final. I will call life which is one good way to put together an argument about it, then send me email since then, I feel like an overview or a B his grade based on your grade so far. Thanks. But moving up into the abstract, all of this is a productive exercise I myself have this same problem, allowing you to think about how you arrange a time to get back to you? Note that failing to subscribe to one of three people who are doing a good background to the text s involved and the Stars, and probably later than tomorrow. My priority will be held tomorrow SH 2635, and thanks for a recitation/discussion that involved not only on attendance. Here's the email was not the most basic issues if you miss more than nine students trying to get back to you? This document has not removed the price tag from his angry moustache to Mr Power's mild face and Martin Cunningham's eyes and beard, gravely shaking. Because the textual history of songs based on everything except for the midterm, based on the feedback for paper topics, I think that a B that you have suggestions for other places, and talk about in lecture, please let me know what the nature of the text specifically and exactly, I think that it's too late to start writing. You've also been paying close attention to the people not warming up to it to. There are two potential problems that you would need to make, since the '50s, but rather that being in class to jump out and take a shot at getting the group to read. Good luck with all of these are very impressive moves here. /Is/four-thirds of a Dog on a lot of ways in which you can out of lecture on Thursday! Again, your attention focused on refining it even further is a smart move for Joyce to be, and turn them into a sophisticated logical structure. That is to pick out the reminder. Let me know if you have to make sure it's too late before the beginning of the entire class in case time runs out. In general, which could conceivably drop the class to engage in any sense faulting you there. Hi!

Hi, everyone! There are some ways in which the novel well. Your You responded gracefully to questions from the group; once when everyone introduced themselves to me, for the last few weeks of mandatory section attendance/participation score a small boost to your attendance/participation score, and saving the rest of the quarter. See you tomorrow morning! I'll see you in front of a chance that someone may decide at the center is one of them into a more general occurrence of seeing people as masses. It's virtually certain, with absolutely everything except for the week. Very very well with your own, or are we to make a choice it certainly won't hurt your grade, but it fits a general overview of a letter grade per day, then it's perfectly acceptable as-is still in the dialogue and showed that you pick, OK? There's no reason why you're picking that particular choice. Duchamp's interest in is tracing out connections between McCabe's use of props and costuming was nice to meet. What do you see as important about this, and I hope you're doing a very good paper here, and the rest of the three types of very long selection and you really want to tell us we exist, are engaging in close readings in which you are absolutely capable of being perfectly clear, I think that you're reciting, you did well here, and you do. This is based on nine weeks of class some time working it out sooner, because this often doesn't productively generate discussion. There is a very good job of putting your texts, and, if you're busy during that time? Or, to the poem he is, your best bet is to provide citations, because you'll want to do so by 10 p. Having just checked my eGrades sheet I just checked my stack of midterms against my other section times and locations on GOLD; d many other possibilities. I will be there on time, I think that putting more work than you have any questions, OK? Welcome to the larger context of other possibilities. If you wanted to talk. All of which is a perfectly clear, I think that it was all a serious possibility, but because excellent papers avoid presuppositions, specify exactly what you mean when you say yes, that's my reading, and your recitation, and he got the class or another of the object of analysis.

One recall. I'll have to say anything at all, I'd move into discussion questions if any of that first draft and allow me to hold the 11:30 you are missing section for those who are mathematically inclined may notice that getting to Eh? Again, I try very hard to avoid them, I'll hold on to and. That is to call on you in section if you'd let me know, that you will go first, and an estimate of attendance/participation score a small boost. Remember that there are any problems with grammar or structure that makes sense, just over 87% in the assignment, which shows that you'd thought about your evaluative criteria, which is a Fountain sung by Corp. However, if you'd like. Pokornowski's midterm review. Overall, I suspect you proofread and revise it, in part because of this coming Tuesday, getting people to engage in a way that it would help you to focus on that level. None of these papers should be made about your evaluative criteria, which is of course that it would have helped, I can reasonably fault you in section. Good luck with grading and term papers, but usually issued as a review guide. I completely appreciate that this scandal is itself an impressive move. The Stare's Nest by My Window Yeats, The Song of Wandering Aengus Lesson Plan for Week 7:00, but I think you're prepared quite well here: you could get a passing nod to the events that absolutely doesn't work, you should be the same number of things well.

#Irish literature #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Python #Markov chains

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