seattle police fired tens of canisters of tear gas indiscriminately into a crowd, they flanked us, they fired fucking flash bangs directly into the crowd, if you are downtown right now please get out they are not fucking around and they are going for everyone, they maced a fucking ten year old little girl
Hey I’ve been reading all of your fics because of quarantine, and I just wanted to say you are such a talented writer, and you should never stop writing (as long as you still enjoy it, of course) ♥️♥️♥️
I’m glad you’re enjoying them!
And yes, I still do enjoy writing, I can’t imagine ever not liking writing (aside from the writers block and doubt of course but I mean overall). My only issue is fighting between what I want to write w/ fanfiction, what I want to write w/ personal projects, and what I have to write w/ both.
The pressures been ‘dealt with’ through a lot of working out, cooking, and gardening (then some confidence that I can write again and that confidence getting promptly struck down haha).
Ok ok so you obviously have superior music taste and I am running out of good songs to listen to so do you have any recommendations?? (p.s. how is quarantine treating you?)
Oh gosh that’s so kind of you to say 😊
At the moment (now bear with me) I’m really into The Divine Comedy (fav albums: Absent Friends & Bang Goes the Knightood). I’m back into Two Door Cinema Club as of late. And finally, I just found Lemon Demon and their album Spirit Phone.
Hope you like them or that they lead you toward other artists you may like!
(Quarantine’s just adding an extra flavor of existentialism I was already mostly used to in my fairly remote lifestyle. I’m managing.)
It’s a measly 2 mins despite having 25 videos but it was fun to make. I regularly make these sorts of compilations from vines, tik toks, and twitter reaction memes so if you have any in mind for more videos, I’ve got time lmao.
more rey x scavenger!reader. set before the force awakens – you work on some speeders with rey as promised after the last time. ugh I just think this is so nice.
On a steep incline on Jakku, your face is splattered with old oils, and your wrist plunges deep in the bowels of a decommissioned speeder.
You tell Rey “There’s no way this thing is still on the market!” It’s quite a find. “Unless it’s here in Jakku or, I dunno…sold in the desperate parts of the…Coruscant,” you omit a mention of the Coruscant Underworld.
She doesn’t need to know you’ve been there and she doesn’t need to know why.
You smile and see her also wrist-deep in the parallel speeder. Her brow is smudged with oil and her tongue is poking out cutely.
You squint to fight off the sunrays that fall on her so delicately.
They make you weep – you can’t tell, but one of the two.
You get up, grunting as you do, and come to hover over her shoulder. You smirk at her furrowed brows as she senses your close presence. This time you’re certain she knows you’re here; certain she won’t chuck a wrench into your eye out of fright –
You chuckle near her ear, and her reflexes kick in.
As her breath intakes and she whips around, you shout and fall on your bum. You throw your arm up to protect your face – your eyes – and peek between splayed fingers at a furious though relieved Rey.
She shouts, “You cannot keep sneaking up on me like that!”
On this day, the sun doesn’t paint her a halo but instead spotlights her face.
You smile. Then offended sputter, “I wasn’t- I wasn’t even sneaking!”
She looks at you amused but incredulous. “Well you know what happens, so you ought,” she wields the wrench and threatens it to your face, “to learn not to do that!”
After stamping her foot, she sits and gets back to work.
You scoff and stay lounged in the sand. When she starts groaning at the rumble of her speeder’s gears, you drag yourself back to your own.
You look into your speeder and, glaring, ignore the bandages on your wrist and fingers. They remind you to slow down, but you jab your hand into the engine regardless. These things are rusted to the bone – luck will have you with pulled threads at best. Lottery-lucky will see you back at your burrow with only a few cuts.
You become delicately focused on the dark pit. It’s been mostly picked clean of anything useful
You sit so focused that you don’t notice Rey stop her fiddling to discreetly watch you.
“Are you mad?” she teases.
You aren’t mad.
Swear it!
“Mad?” And scoff out a chuckle. “Why would I be mad?” There’s a certain restricting quality in your voice. It could have fooled her if she knew you weren’t so good at this. You’re charming – there’s no point in lying – and you’re slick. She wonders how long she went being unable to tell when you were mad. Maybe that’s why at a certain point when she could tell, she assumed you were newly erratic.
No.... she knows you’re mad. And if not ‘mad’ then bothered in some other sense...
You don’t take your eyes off the speeder.
“You mad I told you ‘you ought to learn you place?’” She mocks a pout.
You purse your lips and shake your head. “Nope.” Grunting “Just focused!” you wave your tool with a bare smile to prove it.
For seconds she doubts her suspicion. Just seconds.
She sits her knees up so she can rest your arms. And when you think she’s looking away she spots a tiny curl of your lips. She can hear something too: your manic, breathy chuckle.
Ready to call you out on it, she remembers something.
She hasn’t mentioned the kiss since that night.
And you do hold grudges.
You lounged in bed the morning after, though significantly energetic considering the circumstances (headache, swollen eye, your many aches and bruises).
Meanwhile she trekked through your humble home, insistent on leaving as soon as possible.
Today she was to work, and you were to rest.
You hummed along to her objectives and watched her pack her things.
“I’m going back to yesterday’s spot.”
“Is that so?” you mewled like a parent amusing their eager child. “Well if you do, see if you can make a trip to the Graveyard.” She nodded without question.
You tested her further. “Maybe look for uh...afterburners?”
“Afterburners?” she cried with a chuckle. “What has you making that request?”
You shrugged. “No reason I just think it might be handy to have afterburners just in case…?”
Not looking very convinced, she pulled on her pack and nodded. “You got it.”
She left you home to your own devices.
You don’t have many devices, that’s the problem. You came out here where you are now. You packed nothing but a ration, a half-empty canteen, and sighed toward the vastness.
The speeders were still there. You ran your palm along the rust and checked them out so you could be on the lookout for appropriate parts in the coming days.
She got home to see you lying in bed and properly taken care of, lazing around as she assumed you had most of the day, and definitely untouched by the scorching sun.
It was only for her – you promised you would rest.
Anything else about the speeders you kept your mouth shut.
“Do you uhm…” you click your tongue and pull out a small part, “have one of these?” As she furrows her brows, it appears no, she does not.
You spare her a look and she tenses in preparation for when you chose to enact your spontaneous arrival. You have that way of sneaking up on her. She thinks she can see you in the corner of her eye, yet you come around the corner too fast for her liking every time.
Then you’re sat by her, your sides touching as you lean to push the part in. It fits like a puzzle-piece.
You blink. Luck has a habit of grazing her.
And you giggle “Kriff,” to try and hide your frustration. “Yours is…good...pretty good. Your engine is -- I mean.” She watches you with the awe that arises when seeing someone who enjoys what they’re doing – and someone who does it good too.
Your speeder is busted. It would take more time to scavenge and fix it than the time it would save travelling once it gets up and running.
Hers though is put together. Startlingly.
“Hmm...” you swipe along your chin.
She worries with “What?”
“Yours is pretty good..." You scratch the back of your neck. Of course it was her luck to pick this one. “Really good. The only problem is the container, but the parts are…” you sigh, “real nice…”
She muses “Is that so?”
You look at her. You’re sitting close. She looks proud of you. For once she’s gazing at how the sun hits yourface and how your eyes twinkle
“Yes,” you nod, “That is so.”
Suddenly you hope up and her chance is gone, and she’s a little more alone. What she would have done with that ‘chance’ is curious even to her.
You head to your speeder and yank out everything you can, grunting and sniffling when the job’s done. Never mind the scrapes on your hand or the tears in your bandages, and never mind Rey’s confused, slightly horrified face as you scoop up everything and sit with her again.
She doesn’t budge from her seat. Guess your knees are doomed to touch.
This time it’s her treat.
She snatches your wrist and scoffs “What are you doing?”
She revels in the touch, but winces when feeling the cuts. This time it’s you who doesn’t take notice.
You can’t pry your mind away from a project once it’s latched on. Rey believes it to be a blessing and a curse. While she admires your drive, she often admonishes you to stop obsessing over it in the middle of the night.
You smirk. “I’m building you a speeder.”
Ugh! As I wrote this I realized it has potential to fit mighty nice up against The Force Awakens. Imagine scavenger!reader and Finn being gay having to chaperone their dumbass partners who have a “saving people” thing. UGH!
Alternatively: Rey and Poe having to team up to chaperone erratic Finn/Reader when their “I’m the serious one here who thinks of consequences” wall breaks and they rampage a First Order ship in order to avenge their loved ones 🥺
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I only sweat when I’m cold (barely when i’m hot, i can work out for hours and not sweat at all? but i don’t feel weird i guess so its fine?)
i’ve been listening to nothing but the new songs on selena gomez’s deluxe version of rare, and sawayama by rina sawayama
my routine hasn’t changed at all during quarantine so…cool?
about how i fell in love with boq from wicked and nobody could understand how he could be my favorite — then i fell in love with dewey finn from school of rock and spontaneously bought tickets to see it again and again — and beetlejuice came into my life and i never knew i could adore such a disgusting existence —
then came the realization that all three were played by alex fucking brightman, and i’ve had a major paradigm shift in how i view my attraction!
if i was 13 again i would have thought this painted me destined to marry him and everybody knows it
i don’t think people really get how little feedback fanfic authors actually get? like the effort to reaction ratio is so abysmally skewed here that a fic nearly 50,000 words long takes an entire year to amass like. 16 comments. someone reblogged a fic i wrote at 4 am and tagged it with a 5-word compliment and i can’t stop thinking about it, not because it was so nice but because half the time you post a fic you’re going to hear nothing and anything feels like so much
fandom culture is so, so good about giving artists the credit they’re due, but we gotta start doing that for writers too. you’ve got no idea how much people put into their stories and get maybe a handful of reblogs and a dozen-odd kudos. that’s not enough. writing is an endurance sport and y’all need to start giving fic writers a reason to endure it and improve their craft. encourage writers like you encourage artists. reblog fics, leave tags, leave comments, acknowledge that these stories do not just spring into being for your entertainment.
every single damn writer i know feels like half of their readers see them as a machine. that’s gotta change.
the number of people tagging this post as “this is why i stopped writing” is so deeply upsetting to me but at the same time it is really, really strong evidence that there is a real problem here
it is hard to create fanfic when you feel like you’re writing for ghosts. i recognize that anxiety disorders and various complications make it goddamn difficult to comment on a fic, but there needs to be more way, way more verbal support of writers than there currently is.
leaving kudos is great, liking posts is great (in fact, way more people should be doing the former; so many tags on this post mention only getting one kudos for every 10-20 hits), but ultimately if all you receive is silence you’re going to feel like no one cares about that story you’ve sunk countless weekends into creating.
there’s a really common misconception that fanfic authors write only for themselves and/or for love of a series, and while both of those things are true, that’s far from the whole scope of things. fanfic authors write for their for their stories to be read and for the readers to get something out of it, even if that something is just ‘damn, that was hot.’ we’re not shouting into a void here. we’re hoping to hear something back, and right now all we’re getting is echoes.
the lack of tangible support and encouragement for authors is a problem, and you can go through the tags on this post if you don’t believe me on that.
janainaart
kaledo-art
prguitarman
titsay
jacobvanloon
areudirty
turnnoffyourmind
