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damn. I love the John Wick movies and I was rooting for this one so hard, but this was so disappointing.
And, honestly, it wasn't even due to the fact that the story was so entirely mid (which it was, it was so, so, so mid, thin and as put together as a wet piece of binder paper).
No, the thing that was the most disappointing, the thing that could have easily carried this movie through for me, was if there had been any skill expression in Eve's fighting.
Keanu's gun-fu was, arguably, part of what built the John Wick movies. It was unique and interesting and compelling and, as even the first movie continued forward, it became clear that it was Wick's particular, unique skill expression in fighting.
Mild Spoiler for Ballerina Ahead
But, Eve... despite having all this background as a ballerina, despite this pointed "fight like a girl" scene (that is, apparently, so vital to the movie that the final credits son has the chorus "fight like a girl")... displays zero unique skill expression in her fighting style that is shaped or influenced by this background.
She doesn't go around cracking guys in the nuts constantly.
She's not beautifully elegant when fighting.
She doesn't incorporate spins, or jumps, or slides or any kind of dexterous acrobatics that one would see and immediately think "dancer."
No. She's just... fighting like every other goon on the stage, except she wins.
It's disgustingly boring to the point where I was actively hoping that the fights would stop so there might be some kind of plot (lol, good luck last 25 minutes of the movie).
Anyway... just... needed to get that out and, honestly, see if anyone else noticed the same ting and was as disappointed as I was.
I've been impatiently eagerly awaiting more chapters of They May Have Fallen But We Still Stand by @hellodystopianfuture, which is SO GOOD.
you can pry the historical AUs from my cold dead hands, apparently. Regency!Sterek has been living rent free in my head so here's some art about it, idk.
@asyndetonic tagged me in another fic sharing bit that got away from me a bit, but I have it in mind and I'm at the computer, so now we can make the post!
Challenge: Acrostic WIPs sentence sharing using the word BREAK.
Forgot to mention (edited addition): All quotes from WIP Irradiated Magic.
B | "But, you know, for clarity’s sake: I’m magic, not augmented.” (author's note: apparently I have a love obsession with starting sentences with "but," so... I've learned that about myself)
R | “Remember, you gotta stay with the cargo,” he reminded, pointing in the direction of the bed of the truck before walking away with a slow kind of confidence that irked every bone and nerve in Derek’s body because Stiles was right, he couldn’t leave. (author's note: this fic is currently 20,968 and I have, like, 12 sentences that start with "R")
E | Even now something about the brief interaction with the scent tickled at the back of his mind, telling him that it was familiar, that he’d smelled it before, that it was noteworthy. (author's note: I also have a problem with starting my sentences with "even")
A | A heavy sigh leaked out of the man as he visibly deflated. A moment passed where he seemed to wallow in disappointment before he took a long breath, righted himself, and looked around him as though he weren’t blind. And who was Derek to say that the blind man couldn’t see. (author's note: you get three sentences here because they are consecutive and genuinely all started with "A").
K | Knew, not from stories, but because he’d seen a plant explosion almost ten years ago. (author's note: I have 3 sentences that start with "K," all of them are fragments, for dramatic affect, using either "knew" or "knowing.)
Prompt word/letters: FERAL
Tagging @hellodystopianfuture and @relenafanel, who I actually know.
And, because why the hell not. Be brave. Be bold.
These people who have written fics I love enough to have bookmarked but don't know in the slightest and have zero obligation to engage:
@pantstomatch (excuse me SGA TW crossovers, yes so much, the fact that there aren't just tens of these fics in your works makes me sad, but I'm also so very pleased to have the ones that you did write)
@etharei (science fiction space werewolf soldiers, please more of B-CON station, I beg and also what Hide of a Life War yes so much, JFC)
@andavs (A Crooked Way to Fly has been, like, a core piece of literature that I think about at least on a monthly basis and I read this years ago, I'm pretty sure, whatever a positive haunting is what this fic has done to me)
@psychofink (way out east there might be a way out... classic that I continually go back to, I can taste this fic and it tastes like heat and sand and grit between my teeth in the best of ways)
@drgrlfriend (jfc it's been ages since I've read windows and I'm happy to go back through my bookmarks and find it, because such a well done fic)
@metisket (with play it again and another fic that I routinely go back to and nom nom nom on, so delightful)
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Okay, so... werewolves in Teen Wolf have blue eyes if they kill an innocent, right?
But who determines who or what "an innocent" is? Like, is there some cosmic adjuster out there weighing souls and doling out the decision? : NO.
Which means that "innocent" must be the determination of the killer. If the killer believes they have (1) killed an (2) innocent, they they get blue eyes.
So, what happens if the "killer" psychologically divorces from one or both of those things?
Derek bit Paige, but rejecting the bite is what killed her. What if Derek manages to truly convince himself of this. Goes to oodles of therapy and truly believes that it was not his fault.
What if someone kills oodles of humans but never sees them as innocents? (Peter Hale) Sees every human they kill as simply an extension of a disease that will do more harm than good: no human is an innocent human.
Would their eyes go back to being yellow? Will they have never been blue to begin with?
The reblog chain is one of the things that makes Tumblr unlike anywhere else. All the notes on reblogs are attributed to the original post, no matter which branch people actually liked or reblogged. We want to keep encouraging conversations, and give contributors the recognition they deserve.
Soon, you'll be able to like, reblog, or reply to any part of a reblog chain, and that note will go to that reblog's author. Each reblog will have its own counts, instead of one aggregated number from every version of the post. And yes, you’ll be able to like multiple posts in one chain.
If a reblog doesn't add anything, the love flows up to the last person in the chain who did. Your post doesn't lose notes just because people spread it quietly.
Past notes will stay on the original post — we're only changing what happens from here on out. Retroactively re-attributing all of them would be... a lot.
This is just the beginning. More changes are coming as we keep building this out – stay tuned!
It’s very clear that you all have strong feelings about Tumblr and about this change. We hear you. The passion people have for how Tumblr works is one of the things that makes this place special.
As this rolls out over the next few days and you explore it, we’ll keep reading your replies and reblogs, so please keep sharing your questions, concerns, and ideas.
Your creativity has always been the heart of Tumblr, whether you’re the original poster or adding something brilliant in the reblogs, and nothing about this change is meant to limit that.
If you’d like to talk directly beyond the comments, leave a reply and we’ll follow up with as many of you as we can. We want to work with you to make Tumblr better.
Exclusive Inside Scoop: A look into the though process that brought us this change:
Let's take Tumblr from a unique social media platform that allows creators to fully track engagement by seeing their numbers no matter how far removed from the original post to...
A poor man's attempt to make Tumblr more like other social media out there, because we're not making enough money and aren't smart enough to figure out how to monetize our site so that our CEO can make the same Bank that Musk and Zuckerberg are, but we definitely think trying to do what other social media sites do, just doing it badly and, like, decades late to the game, will be the right move.
Because we definitely think it's too hard to:
Actually figure out what our identity/personality is, embrace its uniqueness, and market heavily for people who vibe with that identity.
Not have our CEO make millions of dollars and just run a la Arizona Iced Tea (how will they possibly get invited to whatever new version of Epstein Island gets founded if they're not Scrooge McDucking into piles of gold?!?!?!).
Crack down on porn bots so that we can actually be not the most annoying piece of shit platform on the face of the planet and weirdly competing with 4chan for how many SURPRISE VAGINAS you see on a regular basis OR Return to a live-and-let-live of porn and welcome back all the people who fled when Russia bought the site and banned the bewbs and weenies.
Come up with literally any other possible idea that we probably could have fielded from our user base or even a ground level intern.
I know we're 1/3 into March already, but I've been doing this little challenge with a fandom friend (I don't want to name them because I don't want to put any undue pressure on our little challenge).
100 words seems so small, and it arguably is. But, honestly, having this goal this month has helped me so much.
So... I want to invite any other writers out there who may be following me (or not) to participate in what's left of our 100 Word March to propel your creativity and your project(s) forward.
How to Participate? Just write 100 words every day for each remaining day of March. Of course, feel free to write more if you want, but 100 is the goal.
Does it need to be all one project? Nope!
What's the purpose? To help me get out of my writing funk. So, theoretically, it'll help you do that as well. Maybe you just want to make some steady progress? Maybe you've hit a wall? Maybe you're in a slump? Either way, you can write 100 words and maybe, just maybe, it'll make all the difference for you.
Can/Should I post my 100 words on my socials? Not required (I'm not doing it), but go for it! Whatever will help inspire you to continue writing every day this month.
Can I share your image? ...not... necessarily this post? (no offense, I just don't need all the words, but I like the concept) Sure! I'd love if you use the tag #100wordmarch and I'd also love an @ (mostly because I'm curious if anyone is actually interested in this and where/how it might spread, I love to write, but I also love data collection 😅).
I have a different question. Can I message you? I mean, sure? But it's really not that serious! Write. Every day. And have fun!
Sending you a proper ask because I want to know about Dirt Wars and about Duct Tape and a Prayer. (Who am I kidding, I want to know about all of these but those two can go first!!)
Also for @mieczy-stiles who also asked for all of them. lolol
Sorry it's taken me a day and an age.
Beyond Known Stars - OG
Genre: science-fiction
Current word count: 28,942
Predicted % completed: 100%
Likelihood of completion: Already Completed (dissatisfied with it)
Excerpt:
“Dude!” is a very ecstatic, very unprofessional, very not-feminine voice in his head. “She did it! Wow. That’s awesome! Oh. Uh…” The Dispatcher trails off as though suddenly remembering protocol and professionalism and regulation, and says, “Dispatcher Martin, picking you up loud and clear Team Leader Hale.” Then he laughs.
There’s movement in Derek’s peripheral vision and his gaze flickers to find Erica, Boyd, and Isaac at the end of the row of lockers, staring at him with wide eyes. Clearly he’s not handling this well if they’re picking up his distress enough to check in on him.
Derek clenches his jaw and wonders what the hell Martin’s game is. Director Martin, not—whoever this guy in his head is. Derek knows the ship’s logs. There’s only one Martin on the Beacon.
Beyond Known Stars - Rewrite
Genre: science-fiction
Current word count: 25,769
Predicted % completed: 30-50%
Likelihood of completion: more probable than others (I fucking love this concept)
Excerpt:
The smirking grin of the PFC glancing at Derek irked almost as much as the words that had just been spewing out of his mouth and Derek wondered if there was a world in which he didn’t punch the guy in the face. With any luck, it would be this one.
…
“I get that there’s an irony to the military telling you that you can’t solve all your problems with violence, but, Jesus, Hale, you can’t solve all your problems with violence,” Finstock groaned, like a coach having to bench one of his favorite players.
“I know.”
Dirt Wars
Genre: science-fiction
Current word count: 1,031
Predicted progress: 1-4%
Likelihood of completion: unlikely
Excerpt:
“We’ve got a problem.”
Laura glanced up from the novel she was reading, brow furrowing ever so slightly as she took him in. Without needing to, she gestured to the co-pilot’s seat next to her, the one that was Derek’s anyway. “Stiles eat the last chocolate bar?” she asked, the corner of her mouth curving upward in amusement at her brother’s well disguised sweet tooth even in spite of his grim tone.
He took a heavy seat. “Stiles has Eichen nanites.”
“How’d you find that out?”
“The med deck pinged them while it was doing the contamination check.”
“I’m surprised you bothered checking the results.”
Duct Tape and a Prayer
Genre: post-series AU
Current word count: 1,530
Predicted % completed: 2-5%
Likelihood of completion: unlikely
Excerpt:
Scott responded with a curt, humming kind of snort that was accompanied with the distinct sound of his head shaking. “Don’t worry about it. I mean—you know, if, by some crazy turn of events, you see him or something, I’d appreciate you letting me know though.”
“You don’t want me to tell him to call you?”
“Oh,” was a sound of genuine surprise. “If you can interact with him, sure. I just assumed it’d be more likely you’d see a ghost or an aberration or something. Around Beacon Hills, or the preserve, or by the nemeton or something. But if you see see him, yeah, slap him upside the head and tell him to call. Maybe make sure he doesn’t have amnesia or something.”
Fifty Shades of WTF
Genre: werewolves are known AU
Current word count: 80,350
Predicted progress: 60-70%
Likelihood of completion: was higher before I seriously considered doing an entire rewrite of what I have (wrote myself into hole that burned me out, but I generally like the premise)
Excerpt:
The hand was indeed softer than he’d expected though just as warm. Also unexpected was the way Derek’s fingers slid between his and curled over his knuckles, interlocking them together. And then, still suffering the surprise of the awkward intimacy of that sensation, came the warm-cool, light-headed sensation of pain leeching out of Stiles’ body. It was uncannily similar to having his blood drawn though came with a kind of blissed numbness that made Stiles’ eyes shudder, his body slumping in his seat.
“Too much. Too much,” he murmured—slurred more like, his fingers, his entire hand, going limp in Derek’s grasp as his muscles quickly forgot how to work.
“I’m barely even doing anything,” Derek said, sounding amused, though Stiles’ eyes had slipped shut and the lids only barely fluttered when he tried to open them, so he couldn’t actually check. “You must need sleep.”
“For the dead,” Stiles slurred by way of protest before proceeding to pass out.
Irradiated Magic
Genre: post-apocalyptic (quasi-Fallout vibes but most definitely not a Fallout fic)
Current word count: 20,993
Predicted progress: 20-30%
Likelihood of completion: long, drawn out, "meeeeehhhhh" (I really like this story)
Excerpt:
There was a furrow to Talia’s brow. Curiosity, yes, but mostly concern. It was a look Derek had seen on her when a pup came out not entirely right—as she attempted to determine whether it would last the night, would last the year. Not quite pity, but close.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“Stiles,” Stiles said utterly honestly and without pause.
“Where are you from?”
“Beacon.”
Derek and Laura’s ears twitched in surprise and Talia’s eyes widened.
“—which is kind of a ways off—”
To say the least.
“—but I got myself in a pickle with some people and now I’m here. You know. Just a man standing in front of a few wolves, asking them not to kill him.”
Not to kill him. That’s where he ended it. Not asking for food, or guidance, or medical attention. The blind man’s—Stiles’—expectations were so utterly low of the encounter that he was going to consider getting out on top being getting out alive. Then again, strangers were dangerous, no matter who or what they were.
Spy Season
Genre: werewolves are known AU
Current word count: 2,068
Predicted progress: 5-10%
Likelihood of completion: I don't think I'll ever stop writing retired spies Sterek, but whether or not any of it actually gets finished is… no clue
Excerpt:
Except there’s no way in hell the guy Derek remembers flitting in and out of Aymen’s life during those two weeks of observation is Stiles, because that man—whoever he was—is dead. Very probably is dead. Should definitely be dead. The likelihood of being thrown clear enough from the compound to survive that strike has got to be not just in the single percentages but in the low, low, low decimals.
Which is why he needs to see the files for himself, review them, try to hunt down a photo or a name or anything. Because if Stiles is the man—the CIA agent—Derek blew up in Sudan, there’s absolutely zero chance that he’s just happened to move in as Derek’s neighbor three years after the fact. Then again, the guy is… was—is CIA, which means it’s not as though he’s hunted Derek down to get vengance.
Probably.
Likelihood of completion: I really do like the general concept, but it's been folded into a piece of original fiction. Dead in the water at this point.
Excerpt:
“Our investigation initially revealed that Laura and Peter killed each other,” Special Agent Parrish said from the Director’s side.
Derek’s fingers curled into his palms, the coldness in his chest turning hot. “Impossible.”
“Improbable,” Parrish said.
Even as the thought of landing his fist in the mouth that deigned to say that word crossed Derek’s mind, a hand covered his hand. Heart rabbiting, at not only being touched but having been snuck up on, Derek’s eyes snapped up to find none other than Agent Stilinski standing over him, features settled into an almost fierce neutrality, opaque black glasses reflecting Derek’s own glowing red eyes back at him. “Your eyes are really rather intimidating, President Hale. And Parrish, while sometimes annoying and a bit of a goody-two-shoes—”
A sigh, somewhere.
“—is quite good at his job. The DNS would have a difficult time if he were, perhaps, to be crushed against a wall and unable to work.”
The Man from Everywhere
Genre: alive Hales and other changes AU
Current word count: 17,408
Predicted progress: 15-25%
Likelihood of completion: I do like this story, but concepts got folded up a bit into Fifty Shades of WTF… given that's tabled, we'll see what happens. So: ???
Excerpt:
“I appreciate the lack of mauling and or attempted mauling. Just, in general, how very not mauling related this whole encounter has been. It’s a ten out ten werewolf encounter.”
Derek raised an eyebrow at the man. “You get mauled by many werewolves?” he asked, caught between bemused and concerned.
“None whatsoever, and yet I still low-key expect it. Though you can’t really blame me. You lot’ve definitely gotten the shaft when it’s come to media and whatnot. You should try rebranding sometime. Need a werewolf writer out there pumping out a Sarah Maas style Twilight-esque werewolf series so people will start—rightfully—thinking sexy instead of deadly. Maybe, if you play your cards right, both, which is just—” Stiles, bent down and shoving things into his backpack, rolled his entire head. His long fingers shoved his speaker and mason jar into his backpack and Derek followed them as Stiles stood, noted the black ringed tattoos the circled the base of his right index and middle fingers and his left pinky. Derek was still watching those hands as Stiles made a splashing gesture between his legs. “—sploosh.”
Derek’s other eyebrow rose to match the first.
For his part, Stiles actually paused. Considered. Maybe even played back his words. “So. Just roll that back and keep in mind what I said about basically be unmedicated.”
Side Note: If you got this far... just for the record, this was a bitch to format because I wrote it elsewhere and had to copy-paste it here and whoever gave the final approval for Tumblr's UI for writing and formatting posts... may they suffer the most horrifying paralysis demon at ju~st enough varying intervals where they just begin to think that they might be able to have consistent good sleep just to find themselves awakened and held hostage, crippling their hope of a normal life while their head sweats on a pillow that is too hot and they suffer a sleep t-shirt that is wound just a hair too tight to be comfortable.
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Oh man. Technically the fic I've been working on most recently. But also massively stalled out on and started considering a rewrite of, so the status is very much precarious.
A previous working title for it: A Hallmark Christmas Movie, But Make it Valentines
Current title is by no means 100% determined (honestly might be part of why I struggle with this fic so much, I typically make titles before I even start writing and am highly attached to them. This one, not so much).
Excerpt (below the cut)
“I think most people who learn about you go to your site looking for more information.”
Stiles snorted. “People don’t need an ‘About You’ page on my site to figure out who I am. Google’s got plenty of answers on that one.”
The corners of Derek’s lips pulled sharply downward as he glanced over at Stiles, eyes hard. “That’s not who you are.”
Rolling his eyes hard enough his temple throbbed, Stiles shrugged, mentally shoving aside the fact that, obviously, Derek had Googled him as well. Which… maybe that explained the man’s sudden appearances in his life so recently. “I mean, tomato tomato, as they say. Right? Close enough. It’s got the important bits in there.”
Derek hadn’t stopped frowning, and Stiles sighed out a chuckle under his breath, jostling his elbow into the other man’s. “I’m sorry if you were under the impression that there was some hidden layer or something that you might peel back with a masterful head groping, but I am, in fact, a train wreck of a human being. The most mysterious aspect of me is probably where I live, and—” He rose a hand and waved it around, indicating the state, the city, the neighborhood they were walking through. “—well, you know that now, too. So, that’s pretty much all my secrets laid bare.”
Derek’s eyes darted over to him, dark and intent. “Not all of your secrets.”
Maybe it was something in his voice, or the intensity of his eyes, or the profile of his face—the cut of his jaw—but Derek spoke and the first thing that came to mind was a flash of a memory of being face-down ass-up in bed last night, Derek’s hand on his neck, holding him down. Choking on the air in his lungs, Stiles’ eyes snapped away as he sucked in a deep, uneven breath and failed to will away the blush crawling up his neck.
“Well, maybe not all of them.” His voice was strained.
RULES: make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Tag as many people as you have WIPs. People can send an ask with the title(s) that most intrigues them, then you post a snippet or tell them something about it!
(Teen Wolf) WIPS (alphabetical)
Beyond Known Stars (OG)
Beyond Known Stars (rewrite)
Dirt Wars
Duct Tape and a Prayer
Fifty Shaes of WTF
Irradiated Magic
Spy Season
Technicolor Space Dust
The Man from Everywhere
If you're interested, you can send an ask with a title and nothing else and get a random piece of information. Or, you are free to inquire about any of the following:
Genre
Current word county
Predicted progress
Likelihood of completion
Excerpt
Tagging:
@dystopianfuture (I think I know them, but I'm curious if there's anything on the list I might not know!)
@relenafanel (I wonder what you're up to these days!)
I know that's not 9 people, but I don't actually have 9 people on Tumblr that I'm, like, actively friends with these days, much less fic writers! Be happy with the two. 😅🤣😭
Note: @mieczy-stiles, I was inordinately happy to be tagged in this! Thank you so much! I'm not on Tumblr a ton or consistently, but stuff like this really does make my day. It's essentially like getting a comment on AO3.
Only for fun.
Young Stiles meeting Derek, when he was a teenager, in a comic and book store. Derek is trying to act like a cool teen, helping Stiles to get a comic, wrong move Derek.
Sorry for my terrible english!
Derek hears laboured breaths and thinks things are about to get awkward. But no sexy time; just Stiles strangling himself in his sleep. Wait…
I imagine Stiles waking up with marks or not in his room, feet all torn up from sleep walking somewhere.
Also, Papa S - he knows about all this stuff now and this is a result of trying to save him.
Imagine him hearing a crash in the middle of the night dashing down the stairs to find Stiles standing in the middle of shattered glass, muttering in his sleep in what seems to be gibberish.
Hearing the crunch of glass and realising Stiles wasn’t even feeling it. So he’d have to pull him out of there.
Scott calls the next day, sees bloody footprints going across the carpet. He’s about to freak the hell out when a sleepy Stiles wanders in
“Oh. Hey, Scott.”
What if it got so bad they had to restrain him at night. The sheriff would be completely against it. But ever logical Stiles would be like; ‘makes sense, dad…’
But then if something were to attack at night and Stiles was defenseless.
Maybe something of that ilk happens and it results in Derek hanging around at night to protect him. He ends up sleeping there, Sheriff gets a fold out cot for him until they find a solution.
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