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I kind of suck at tagging, so I made this infographic to help make it easier.

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I’m so torn between playing through as much as I can of My Time at Sandrock, because it’s the summer, I have the time, and I’m excited about the idea of playing.

But I also know a bunch of updates are coming out between August and December and I don’t want to burn myself out on the game when it’s still vaguely unfinished. 

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Fan art by Anato Finnstark

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*:･ﾟ✧ 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐁𝐔𝐆’𝐒 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

*𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝟏𝟖+. 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐛𝐞 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐀𝐍𝐘 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬.*

*𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐮𝐧𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐞!*

Keep reading

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yay... lesbians...

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Lesson 1: Chit Chat

Commander Wolffe/Original Jedi Character

Summary:  When war sets fire to the galaxy, Plo Koon's former Padawan, once devoted to the path of diplomacy, is forced to abandon her Separatist negotiations and serve on the frontlines. Plo sees an opportunity for his former student to learn the reality of war, while the men of the 104th may learn to consider what life could be--will be--after a war. Commander Wolffe and Jedi Knight Yaryn, warrior and peacekeeper, come to learn much from one another.

Preview: 

Wolffe carries himself like he has a spine of durasteel, broad shoulders back with impeccable posture. He has a standard buzzcut, thick brows, and, while subtle, somewhat more pronounced frown lines than the other clones. He gives the impression that a majority of his communication takes the form of long-suffering eyerolls.

“Commander Wolffe,” Yaryn says with a respectful nod.

“The general said I should speak with you.”

She finds herself mirroring his frown, concerned. “Oh? Is there something pressing to discuss?”

“No.”

Yaryn blinks at him. He looks like he is preparing to report gruesome casualties to her.

“He said we should just...talk.” Wolffe gives a poorly concealed sigh. “I believe the exact phrase he used was…’chit chat’.”

Read the full chapter on AO3 here.

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First chapter of “Kintsukuroi”, my fan comic about @mytimeatportia, is now on AO3! Aadit/Builder!

LINK: https://archiveofourown.org/works/36445330/chapters/90874855

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“On the House” 💌 an Owen/Builder My Time at Sandrock Fic 

Summary: A fluffier, flirtier reimagining of the first “mission” with Owen--resident sunshine man of Sandrock--after he invites the builder for food and chit-chat at the Blue Moon.

Read on AO3 here!

Owen’s letter had been burning a hole in the new builder’s pocket ever since she had received it. It had been the sweetest correspondence she had received in her first few days in Sandrock, yet every time she had reread it--something she was mortified to admit she had done several times now--she felt lightheaded.

This was despite the fact that the letter could not have been more friendly in its intentions. To reign in her flustered nerves, she mentally repeated the unmistakable disclaimer of this being a platonic affair with the line, " I like to get to know pretty much anybody who plans on living here, and that includes you! " And yet the prospect of being invited for food, drink, and conversation with this human version of a Barnarock retriever made her stomach do flips.

She had known Owen for less than a week, and she already had it down bad for him . The man was an absolute ray of sunshine, somehow outshining even the unforgiving Sandrock sky. His cheer and kindness had made her feel so welcome, and it didn’t hurt that he was handsome to a truly unfair degree; the new builder hardly stood a chance. She felt embarrassed about her embarrassment, and this ouroboros of mortification wreaked havoc on her mental state, leaving her with hardly any concentration for the crane lift she was supposed to be working diligently on.

The builder knew what had to be done. Waiting too much longer to take Owen up on his offer would come across as rude, and she needed to win her concentration back. Yet even the thought of walking into the Blue Moon Saloon left her cheeks feeling hot.

She finally took the plunge one evening when her discomposure was muffled by genuine hunger. A full afternoon of taking out her nerves on countless scrap piles did wonders for her clarity, and she soon found herself at the door of the saloon, mentally repeating the mantra ‘For the love of Peach, just be normal! Be normal!’

The builder took a step in and immediately winced. This was clearly the saloon’s dinner rush. Even serving a relatively small town, most of the tables seemed full and were surely a handful to manage. She nearly slunk backward out of the saloon before a sunny voice called out to her.

“Hey there, Builder!”

She turned to see Owen straighten up over a full table he was setting a glistening pitcher of yakmel milk on. Throwing a dish towel over his shoulder, he strode over to her with a charming, confident ease.

“Did you get my letter?”

“I did!” she said, grateful she was managing to keep a straight face. She had only read that very letter a dozen times now.

He stood before her, fists on his hips. “Does this mean you have a moment to chat over some food and drinks?”

She looked over the bustling saloon. “I have the time, but do you? The place looks impressively hopping!” Oh by the Light, did anyone actually use hopping anymore?

“For you? I’ve got all the time in the world!” As if the sentiment alone wasn’t paralyzing enough, the man had the absolute gall to punctuate the end of his sentence with a devastating wink. Before she could fully recover, he already laid a hand on the small of her back, gently ushering her towards a small table in the back. “Besides, most folk here are settled in, and Grace can take care of anything else they might need.”

“If you’re sure.”

“Sure I’m sure!” he said with a laugh. “Allow me!” he said in a voice that could only be described as gallant as he pulled out a chair for her.

“Why thank you, Owen. I could get used to this Sandrock hospitality,” she said with a smile.

As Owen sat down across from her, he gave another roguish wink. “You haven’t seen nothin' yet.” He looked up and smiled. The builder turned in her seat to see Grace coming over with a tray of drinks and several small dishes.

Owen clapped his hands once and rubbed them eagerly. “I’ve been meaning to catch up with you since you’ve moved in, but it looks like you and Mi-an have been pretty busy with everything going on as of late!”

“Heh, yeah. Pretty busy.” She cleared her throat. “Sorry I’ve taken so long to take you up on your invitation.”

Owen chuckled as he pushed a ceramic dish of cold cactus towards her. “No need to apologize! As a small token of my appreciation, I’d been wanting to offer you some food and drinks, on the house!”

“I…oh, wow,”  the builder said, looking over the spread. “That’s…wow this is all really generous, Owen! You really didn’t have to...”

He gave another deep chuckle and gave a smile that wrinkled the corners of his eyes. “You’re just a little bit skittish, huh? Please, don’t be.” He reached out and gave her hand an encouraging squeeze. “Everyone in Sandrock is mighty nice. This is just my small way to help you feel settled.”

Her gaze darted down to their hands. His weathered hand felt so warm, though she could feel the cool of his rings on her skin. She admired the man’s style. “I…th-thank you!” She cleared her throat again. “Truly!”

He gave another squeeze that sent a heat right up her arm. “To a newcomer, Sandrock can be a bit overwhelming,” he said gently. “But lucky for you, this old barkeep has been around for just a hair longer than a panbat's age!” He patted her hand then leaned back, resting his elbow on the back of his chair and crossing his ankle over his knee. “Perhaps I can shed some light on any subject you're still unfamiliar with. Some entertainment over dinner?”

The builder gave another nervous laugh. “I don’t even know where to start.” She looked down at the myriad dishes. “I don’t even know where to start with all of this!”

Owen grinned. “These are just some of our specials, but let me know if there’s anything in particular you’re itchin' for. I’d really love to know what you like!”

“I already know I’ll love all of this.” She smiled at him. “Seriously, this all looks great!”

“I’m grateful for your faith in my saloon! ‘Preciate that!”

“Do you come up with your own original recipes? And how long have you been running the Blue Moon?” she asked before popping a slice of grilled green pepper into her mouth. As she suspected, everything was as delicious as it looked.

Owen chuckled. “Well now, you’re liable to make a man blush if your first questions in a whole new place are just about little old me!”

The builder was mid-bite into a bit of grilled sandfish, her eyes widening in mortification.

“Uhmp !?” She tried her hardest to keep loose bits of sandfish from falling out her mouth. She swallowed hard then opened her mouth, staring at the man. When the words didn’t come, she grabbed for the glass closest to her. She sipped the buckwheat tea, stalling for a factory reset of her vocal chords. “I just meant…I meant, you’re…here!” She gestured clumsily. “I was just curious!”

“Ha! By the Light, you sure are fun to tease.” Owen readjusted, resting his elbows on the table. “Careful making it so easy for me.”

How absolutely unfair it was that he could turn his voice into that. It appeared the sunshine man was capable of sounding deliciously dark. The builder was beginning to develop the sneaking suspicion that he knew what he was doing.

As if instinctively knowing when to throw her off the trail, he continued, filling in her flustered silence. “Only joking. You just sit back and enjoy the food while I regale you with the tale of The Blue Moon!”

And of course he was a talented storyteller. He spoke with an effortless charisma, weaving an engaging story that, by all means, was simply a recap of a restaurant opening. Yet the way he changed his tone for the different “characters”, his gestures, and his enthusiasm left the builder hanging on his every word.

Shockingly, as his words washed over her, she found herself actually relaxing. After being so tightly wound for the past week with the move, uprooting her entire life, bearing the weight of her new community’s expectations on her, and the prospect of getting close with the intimidatingly handsome saloon owner, the builder actually found herself loosening up at last.

At the end of his story, he fielded her follow-up questions with ease, and they fell into a comfortable conversation that ambled this way and that.

Perhaps she was imagining it, but even Owen seemed to have adopted a much less stiff posture and he laughed more easily and held her gazes longer. The builder hardly noticed when the murmurs of the crowded saloon trickled out over time.

“This place sounds perfect,” the builder said casually, seeing Owen beam with pride. “I don’t know why my friends thought I was moving somewhere dangerous.”

Owen’s comfortable smile fell somewhat. “Ah, about that.” He stared at the glass of yakmel milk he seemed to have a suddenly firmer grip on.  “I’m sad to hear elsewhere thinks Sandrock is so dangerous, but we certainly aren’t without our hazards.”

“I…I’m sure anywhere has its dangers!” the builder insisted.

“Heh, well,” Owen began, sheepishly. “I’m sure you’ve seen the wanted posters. We’ve got a pretty infamous bandit named Logan. He used to be a citizen of Sandrock, you know.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Awful tragedy with what happened to that building he blew up.”

She raised a brow. “He blew up a building?!”

Owen nodded. “He…he did. He hasn’t been spotted doing anything too nefarious lately. Some folks think, or, rather hope, that he’s moved on to prey on a town more…” He gave a nervous, resigned laugh. “...profitable,” he finished.

“Perhaps he has,” the builder nodded. “I won’t let him make me lose any sleep.”

“There’s…” Owen coughed. “Other than that, I suppose you ought to know there's some of the dangerous wildlife about, but they tend to stay away from town. We also get some pretty nasty sandstorms now and again, but our mayor is in the desert right now trying to stop ‘em from being so bad.”

“Doesn’t sound like anything too unexpected for an environment like this,” she said with a nod. “None of that’s going to scare me away.”

“Glad to hear that! Figured you ought to get a heads up so you don’t run into any surprises.” He leaned over, then pulled aside a sheer curtain of the window, his rings glinting in the moonlight shining through the window.  He grinned, then turned back to her and jabbed his thumb towards the window. “Guess we’re both lucky that your place is right in view of the saloon! If you ever need help, you just run on over here, right? I’ll keep you safe.”

As he looked to her, Owen’s face seemed so genuine. The flickering of the candle between them glinted in his warm, gray eyes, a warmth that settled comfortably under the builder's skin.  

“That really means a lot,” she said gently. “Thank you, Owen.”

His smile softened. “Least I could do for someone so willing to give Sandrock a chance.” He toyed with the edge of his deep red napkin, weathered fingers smoothing down a loose thread. “You know, it wasn't always like this. A lot of people have left, and I can't really blame 'em. Sandrock might not be the best place for everybody, but there are still people who love this town, and we'll all be sticking around, for better or worse!”

The builder nodded. “I can see that. If it makes you feel any better, I’m pretty sure I’m in this for the long run, if you’ll have me. I’ve already seen a lot to love here.” She grinned. “Guess this dinner and conversation really won me over.”

His cheeks became ruddier. “Ah, heck. You really are going to make me blush!”

The builder snorted. “You say that as if you haven’t been doing that to me all evening!”

The flickering candlelight turned to a glinting mischief in his eyes. “Oh. Was I now?”

A not too unpleasant heat flitted down her spine. Such an admission only an hour earlier would have frozen her. At the end of their evening together, she grinned into it.

“You weren’t doing it on purpose?”

He leaned forward, lowering his voice. “Trust me. You’ll know it when I try to make you blush on purpose.”

The builder placed a faux outraged hand over her heart. “Mr. Barkeep, are you threatening me?”

Owen smirked, winking. “No. Just warning you.”

“Hmm. Yet another danger in Sandrock?”

“Only for pretty builders who live across railroad track-”

A throat cleared next to them.

Owen and the builder straightened abruptly, turning in unison to see Grace with an empty tray tucked under her arm.

“Uh, sorry to…interrupt. But it’s past closing.”

Owen turned in his chair. “What? No it ain’t, it’s hardly-”

His gaze fell on an empty saloon.

“Oh…”

He turned back to Grace, coughing into his fist. “Well! It looks like you did a great job cleaning up and closing the kitchen! I…don’t want to keep you late. You can head on out.”

“...sure…” Grace said, looking between the two of them. “I’ll give you two some alone time.”

Owen made a choking noise at Grace’s already retreating back. “O-oh! No, that’s not why-!”

"Looks like we both lost track of the time." The builder all but forced herself to stand. “I should probably be heading out too. Mornings are always busy for me, and I’m sure yours are the same.”

Owen stayed seated, turning to her. “Suppose all good things must come to an end.”

The builder smiled down at him. “It was very good. Thank you, so much. For more than you can imagine.”

Owen reached over and took her hand gently in his. “It truly was my pleasure. Let me just say…”

The builder tilted her head. Owen's gaze was gentle, lips parted just slightly as he looked up at her like he was beseeching the Light itself.

“...welcome to Sandrock.” He thumbed over her knuckles before releasing her hand. He stood up, placing his hands on his hips and cracking his back. “I sure do hope to see you in here again real soon.”

She smiled. “I think I can be tempted to come back. The food was great, to say nothing of the company.”

He grinned. “I make the meanest omelets in all of the Free Cities. The Blue Moon ain't only fit for dinnertime!”

The builder pretended to ponder for a moment before returning his gaze. “Consider me tempted, then.”

Owen flushed with triumph, his eyes shining once more with such a charming expression the builder's knees almost buckled. “Guess I’ll be seeing you around then. Good night.”

“Good night, Owen. And thank you. Again.”

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Swapping stories with Owen and my builder Lottie. She’s not nearly as good at telling them as Owen is, but she tries.

A scene from my fic I Can Hear the Bells

I think I might try my hand at drawing Unsuur and my builder Robbie next – we’ll see lol – I know what I *want* to draw, but I think I want my fic I’ve written for him to be mostly complete before I do.

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Drabble : Calm of the Storm

Summary: A sandstorm descends upon the sleepy town of Sandrock, and Builder Liira finds comfort in the arms of Sandrock's enforcer, Pen.

The world outside of Liira's home remained dark and primarily silent; Pen didn't turn on the radio again because he didn't want the outside world to intrude, and neither did she. It was too hot to sleep, despite the cool air coming from her ceiling fan. They lay on Liira's beige-colored sheets and talked, their voices not much more than slow murmurs in the sandstorm that was descending upon Sandrock with all the fury of mother nature.

Pen's large hands never left her bare body, and Liira ceased all thoughts for this one quiet night to themselves. The Builder became drowsy, but all inclination to sleep fled when Pen pulled her flush against him in the thick, heated darkness, cradling her gently, his hands stroking and caressing until she curled up against him, burying her face in his chest and murmuring stories of the wonders of the Eufaula desert in the heat of his skin.

End.

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heyy new blood fresh from highwind

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actually @ every fanfiction writer whether you wrote something that got thousands of reblogs and comments and became a staple in your fandom, or you wrote one fic and deleted it, or you write mutilchaptered fics that never get a final update, or write short fics, or long fics, or used to write and now you don’t, or you deleted/orphaned your works, or you only share with friends:

thank you.

sharing your writing is hard. and sometimes it’s thankless. sometimes it’s such a negative experience that I wonder how anyone does it at all. but you are needed; you are wanted. whether or not we properly acknowledge it, you are a vital part of fandom culture. thanks for sharing.

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Fan art by Adrien Le Coz

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Fanfic Summary Cheat List

Summaries are hard. Here are some templates to help you out:  1) When [this event happens], [this person] takes [this action] until [antagonist threatens]

When a renowned surgeon ends up in a car crash that ruins his hands, he seeks to harness magical powers until an inter-dimensional entity threatens his reality. 

2) After [shocking backstory happens], a person or people pursue a difficult goal.

After a brilliant physicist is in a gamma radiation accident that causes him to turn into an angry beast, he goes on the run from the government in order to find a cure.

3) An interesting person pursues a familiar goal in an unexpected way.

A billionaire weapons designer decides to protect the world by building a powerful suit of armour. 

4) Driven by motivation, a person or people pursue a goal to do something completely unique.

When half of all life in the universe is destroyed, a group of heroes plan a time heist to retrieve the six magical stones needed to bring their loved ones back. 

5) Special circumstances in a main character’s world force that character to engage in morally ambiguous behaviour.

After her true love dies in battle, a powerful witch takes a small town hostage in order to live out her sit-com fantasies. 

6) A group of interesting people face a variety of obstacles as they pursue a collective goal.

A group of heroes with various talents need to overcome their differences in order to defeat a vengeful god who is determined to rule Earth. 

7) A group of interesting people must choose between their personal need and the collective good as they face a common enemy.

A group of space-based anti-heroes must overcome their selfish desires and join together in order to save the galaxy. 

8) An anti-hero makes it their mission to rise to power with a certain methodology.

After learning about his origins in the hidden land of Wakanda, a prince returns to take the throne and spread the kingdom’s wealth to those in need. 

9) Two opposite people with limited resources must unite to accomplish a ridiculous mission.

A retired entomologist teams up with a recently released ex-con in order to complete a heist using ants. 

10) A negatively changed world can only be fixed with the accomplishment of an impossible task performed by a unique person.

When a terrorist organisation designs an algorithm to eliminate all of their opponents at once, a man out of time with enhanced abilities must run from the law and his brainwashed best friend in order to save the world.  Logline templates are from the podcast ‘On the Page’ hosted by Pilar Alessandra. 

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Adolf von Becker - The cat on the pillow

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i’ve said it before and i’ll say it again. fanfiction is not an inherently subversive practice that is going to elevate art and save it. fanfiction is also not the scourge of all literature that is going to destroy art and debase it. fanfiction is literally just another lightly popular medium of writing and is capable of being good or bad. it’s not inherently uniquely good and it’s not inherently uniquely bad, it’s just a way you can write a story

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