1: What inspired you to write the fic this way?
2: What scene did you first put down?
3: What’s your favorite line of narration?
4: What’s your favorite line of dialogue?
5: What part was hardest to write?
6: What makes this fic special or different from all your other fics?
7: Where did the title come from?
8: Did any real people or events inspire any part of it?
9: Were there any alternate versions of this fic?
10: Why did you choose this pairing for this particular story?
11: What do you like best about this fic?
12: What do you like least about this fic?
13: What music did you listen to, if any, to get in the mood for writing this story? Or if you didn’t listen to anything, what do you think readers should listen to to accompany us while reading?
14: Is there anything you wanted readers to learn from reading this fic?
15: What did you learn from writing this fic?
The 401 is where they weed out the weak. You don’t drive on the 401 to get somewhere. You do it for the challenge. You do it to test your abilities like some Uchiha clan shit. Rush hour 401 is the breaking point between heaven and earth. Are you going to descend into a Lovecraftian hell or reach Nirvana? You will double the size of your biceps death-gripping your steering wheel. There is no time for rest or pulling off over into an exit. Bodily functions shut down. Cars on the side of the road and crashes closing lanes are a constant reminder that you are driving the razor’s edge. Death is mere seconds away at any given moment. They’re always doing construction but nothing is ever finished. It’s a constant roadblock for the hell of it. This is the Dark Souls 2 of Canadian driving. git good or get out
And that’s just normal mode. Have fun in the six-month long Ontario winter and enter some top-tier level of highway driving.
EVO2015. EVO2018.
I heard that babies are born on the 401, grow up on the 401, and take over for their parents as driver of the family car on the 401
What the fuck.
I live right by the 401 i never knew it was so weird i just thought all highways were like that
this post gets a handful of notes every few weeks, and on the one hand, I’m happy that it seems to be helping people, but on the other hand i think it’s terrible that so much has gone wrong recently.
I made this post in response to the Paris attacks, and since then, about every 3 weeks or so, it gets a slew of new reblogs. The world is such a shitty place. At least we have puppies and kittens to make it a little better.
the woman who comes in every day and buys a single can of cat food. The brand she buys has the deal that if you buy 5 cans, you get them for $2. When I told her that she said “I don’t need five at once. Terrence only needs one a day.”
The old man who came in and asked me “Why do you think McDonalds doesn’t sell hotdogs?” When I told him I didn’t know, he said “Well, I guess it would be hard to keep a straight face and order a McWeenie.”
The teenage girl whose boyfriend held her foot up as she hopped around the store to get her things. Come to find out that she had lost her flip flop and didn’t want to step on the floor with her bare foot.
The elderly spanish man who comes in every day to get a pack of Marlboro Lights. His english isn’t very good, so when I asked him if he wanted shorts or 100s, he looked at me confused. Realizing he didn’t understand, I said “Pequeño
?” His face lit up and nodded enthusiastically. Now every time he leaves, he smiles and says “Hasta mañana” and I say it back.
The other day when I was outside on a smoke break, he was riding on a bike and yelled ”HASTA MANANAAAAAA” as he rode by.
The old woman who came in and bought 24 air fresheners. I asked her if she was stocking up, and she told me about how she got a new boyfriend who lived in a mansion, and that she was putting one in each of the rooms. She then proceeded to tell me about how the mansion is haunted.
The little kid who was probably around 4 or 5 who ripped open a pack of skittles. As me and the people in line watched the skittles scatter across the floor, he looked up and said. “It wasn’t me.”
I’m reading Don Quixote for my world literature class and apparently when it was first published in 1605 it was world-changingly popular, one of the first “popular novels” as we know it today, and there were all sorts of people who were writing and publishing their own unofficial fan-sequels to Don Quixote which was basically the first fan-fiction, and then in 1615 the original author wrote an official sequel in which Don Quixote reads a piece of fanfic about him and sets out on a quest to beat up the author who mischaracterized him
This is all true. What happened more specifically is that one fan fiction got really really popular and since people weren’t all that familiar with how novels worked (because there weren’t really any other novels in Europe yet), a lot of people just took this as a valid sequel. Cervantes (the original author) had pretty much stopped working on any kind of sequel to the original at point, but he got really pissed that people were reading this fan fic and assuming it was as legit as his canon. So he got off his butt and wrote this sequel, which academics call big words like “meta-textual” when really it was Cervantes trying to make sure people understood his canon correctly and didn’t get carried away with their silly fan theories based on this one fic writer’s interpretation.
Now-a-days, the “true sequel” is normally just lumped in and stuck onto the end as a “part II,” in case you are wondering why you’ve never heard of a Don Quixote the Sequel. By all accounts, the fan fic was pretty bad, which makes it’s a perfect beginning to the grand tradition of fanfiction.
Calling this the first instance of fanfiction, though, comes from the fact that this was the first time, as far as we know, that the author of the original stepped in to officially denounce fan work as not canon. For most of history (at least western history) there wasn’t really an idea that stories had ownership. Most famous greek plays and poems are based on other works. Virgil’s Aeneid can easily be called Homer fan fiction (we have no real way of knowing how much of the story existed in folk tradition and how much he made up). Most of the versions of greek myths you know come from Ovid’s Metamorphosis, which is largely his short fics about other myths. Moving out of the classical world, bible fic constitutes a lot of what literature is for a while. Dante’s Inferno, specifically, (which is, lets be clear, a self insert fic where the author meets his fave author – so it’s also RPF – and they take a tour through a crossover fic between the Bible, historical fic, and greek myth) was so popular that it’s kind of crossed over into fanon (quick – biblically how many cicles does Hell have? Answer: none, they all come from Dante and in turn Virgil, and eventually Homer…) On the run up to Don Quixote, we have Shakespeare, who adapted most of his plays directly from other works by other people, from which he asked no permission (nor was he expected to.)
The real move that makes this false sequel the first official fan fiction is that the author of the canon material asserted his ownership of the intellectual property that was the characters and the story. Not in the legal sense – there was nothing illegal about this sequel – but in the sense that you could call this sequel “unauthorized.” It’s the beginning of thinking of characters and stories as belonging to a specific person, rather than simply being created by said person.
As long as we’re talking influential Bible fanfic, you can’t leave out Milton, who may not have originated but definitely popularized the idea that Satan from Job, the fallen morning star from Isaiah, the serpent from Genesis, the leader of the rebel angels and the dragon from Revelation, the tempter in the wilderness from the gospels, and the folkloric Devil were all the same person, which is not stated or even implied anywhere in Christian Bibles predating him.
There’s also the unnamed 4th-century scribe who decided to call the fallen morning star “Lucifer,” because he had a grudge against a bishop of that name.
People love to talk about whether or not disabled people can work
but if you can work just fine and your disability is destroying your ability to have a life outside of work (because work takes all your energy and more)
Dead silence. Nobody cares.
File this under, oh you can be active for 4 hours? You can work part-time. Um no, I have to get ready for work (30 min) get to work (15 min) get home from work (15 min) feed myself all day (30 min) maintain myself, my home and my life (15 min, yeah right), which leaves 15 min for work and absolutely nothing else.
This is so accurate, back after I’d relapsed I wanted to try and go in for one class at school so I could still stay in contact with the education system. I let slip during a meeting that I managed to drag myself to that I could manage about 4 hours of activity a week, which the teacher sprang on to mean I was being lazy for just trying to get to 1 hour class. Never matter that it was 30 minutes travel, that I would have to get washed and dressed, that I would probably still need to recover for 3 days from it.
Far too often abled people see the things they do easily as “non activities”, they don’t realise that for many disabled people these things have to be carefully planned and measured, and sometimes they simply can’t be done.
reblog bc the non activities thing seems really important words
I get X number of pain-free steps per day right now, which means that, for large conventions (like SDCC), I need to be in a mobility device. I had someone ask if I used up my steps every day before transferring to the scooter, and look surprised and a little horrified when I said “no, I save them so I can go to the bathroom unassisted.” Like, they had never considered that walking is involved in peeing.
!
Reblogging for the important point that the term “activity” may mean something very different and much broader for a disabled person with a chronic pain or fatigue related condition compared to its meaning for a non disabled person. If you’re tired enough, simply sitting up in a chair rather than lying in bed is an activity that drains energy otherwise usable for other things. A thing I knew from other people with pain and fatigue related conditions, but worth reinforcing for followers who didnt know or had forgotten.
I feel like when you’re writing, organizing chapters and dialogue is easy
but jfc, the amount of time it takes to constantly keep people moving and make sure they’re in the right spaces and trying to come up with wording for it is always such a shock.
Like, fuck, I made you pick up a coffee cup, you need to put it down at some point. also I can’t remember what I dressed you in, can you push up your sleeves? I don’t remember if you even have your shirt on.
and YOU. YOU OVER THERE, you got out of your chair earlier, but did you come back yet? Are you coming back? Where did you even go and why’d you get up? Fuck, I can’t make you sit down again already, you just stood up, go…over there. go get more coffee. Did you bring your mug with you? fine. bring the pot to the table and—wait, wasn’t the coffee pot already over here? shit, hold on, I need to go back and re-read and re-write
