#I will not tag Neil Gaiman because if he likes another post of mine I will have a heart attack AND DIE

[phoenixwrites]

Re: the message about people misinterpreting Lewis, digging that shade at Pullman. He's always so snotty about his interpretation of Lewis. One of my friends actually got to talk to him about it once and he was so ridiculous and high and mighty about it. D r a g h i m.

I am trying SO HARD to be nice about Pullman because I know a bunch of my followers love him.  And His Dark Materials.  For some reason.  And he has some literary criticism that is pretty good and I love his fairy tale collection.

But the C.S. Lewis thing will ALWAYS be the line I can’t cross into enjoying him as a writer.

I get the Susan criticism.  Considering I’ve been ranting about the abundant misinterpretations that abound the interwebs for the past nine years or so, at this point, it is impossible not to understand WHY people perceive (however wrongly) her fate as sexist.  (They are wrong but I get it.)  But it’s really the OTHER crap Pullman talks about Lewis that riles me up.  How he presents “His Dark Materials” as the anti-Narnia…like seriously, fuck you, man.  What kind of pretentious ass bullshit is that?  Rowling was disturbed by Susan, but she acknowledged gratitude for how Lewis transformed the genre–paralleling Harry walking through the barrier of 9 ¾ with Lucy entering the wardrobe.  Gaiman wrote an unpleasant short story about Susan, but still acknowledged his debt to Lewis and wrote a really beautiful speech that tributes him.  

He complains about the worldview in the Narnian books, saying they take for granted misogyny, racism, and conservatism.  Disagree.  Hard disagree.  Furthermore, expecting an Oxfordian don from the 1930s-1950s to be at the level of progressivism that permeates the academic world now is stupid.  This is isn’t to say you can’t find traces of misogyny and racism in his fiction–it’s there.  But I don’t agree at all that it’s in Narnia.  Narnia is probably the most progressive of his works.  Honestly, it feels like Pullman’s main problem with Narnia is the religious overtones.  Boo fucking hoo.  Grow up.  Get over it.  The whole of English literature is rife with religious overtones, symbolism, themes much more blatant than Lewis’ fantasy world and if you’re going to call yourself an academic, you better get over it.  You don’t have to share the worldview, but you need to appreciate what it’s doing and why it’s making a cultural impact.  

I recognize Pullman is smarter than me and has more degrees and more experience in the academic literary world but I do not care and I will be ranting about his attitude towards Narnia till kingdom come.  You don’t have to LIKE Narnia, that’s fine, but stop acting like an elitist snob who is just so much wiser than the rest of us religious peasants for disdaining the series.  And your friend proves my point.  I feel like I could have a productive discussion with Gaiman and Rowling about their feelings on Susan.  (I have been involved in a highly embarrassing Twitter interaction with Gaiman and once Gaiman liked a Tumblr post of mine where I talked about his short story of Susan and how I understand him resolving his conflicted feelings on her through writing so I feel like he and I are good on the subject).  I do not feel like I could have a productive discussion with Pullman about it.  

Most of Pullman’s knowledge of Lewis personally and professionally comes from a truly heinous AND FUCKING INACCURATE biography by A.N. Wilson.  This biography is one of the worst accounts of Lewis’ life you will ever read.  I have thrown it across my room MANY TIMES.  If you want a good, fair, and honest representation of C.S. Lewis, for the love of all that is good and holy, read Alister McGrath’s biography.  He does not elaborate, he does not romanticize, he is completely fair.  A.N. Wilson is the Rita Skeeter of biographers.  

Like if we want to critique C.S. Lewis, step into my office, I’m happy to discuss my love, criticism, and problems for and with C.S. Lewis any day of the week.  I have written many papers on the subject.  I researched at the Bodleian Library in Oxford for precisely this reason.  But I don’t think Pullman can do that fairly or objectively.

[weareallfallengods]

LOTR Post-apocalyptic one shot

When Middle Earth gets to like- the idk, sixth or seventh age? would it be more of a futuristic setting but like with hobbits in space suits and dwarfs crafting radioactive machines and stuff.

(Shhhhh.... i know that like the elves disappear and man becomes really the only one that stays after awhile but I WANT A FANTASY FALLOUT SETTING!

From @pippinstook

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The Endless Winter was the Elves' fault.

Like all the Great Calamities of Middle-Earth, the best and worst times were ushered in by Elves.

And they wonder why we hate them.

We Dwarves remember the Silmarils War. We stayed out of the War of Sauron's Return because the Elves created that mess to begin with, and it was theirs to clean up. We saw the Halflings get roped into it, and there were some who argued we should go to their aid, remembrance of a debt owed by our people to them. But there were only 4 of them, so we remained apart.

And so, when the Burning Wind, a storm of flame like a hundred score dragons scorching the land and sky came, we stayed underground. We saw it sweep in from the East, and we knew that once again, the Elves had doomed us all.

We stayed underground, our trading partners gone, our surface holdings buried under a white ash that burned and blinded as it rained from the sky. We delved deeper, broader, sealed all but a few entrances to the surface behind gold and lead. Entire boulevards bricked up in stacks of now useless gold.

They thought we were ostentatious with our wealth before. If they could only see us now. Admittedly, we flaunted our wealth in the 4th Age- and why wouldnt we? We worked and slaved and toiled for generations of men to build it. Of course we were going to enjoy the fruits of our labors.

Our grandfathers survived once the King discovered that only he, in his gold-covered armors, remained sunburnt by the Elven Ash. The King ordered the gates sealed, the treasury turned over to the armored and craftsmen as gold suddenly became not a luxury, but something necessary to protect our people from the folly of the Elves. 

Our people still got ill, still died long before their time. Some had strange growths, babies were born with extra limbs, or none at all. Mothers wept at not being able to feed their newborns, and fathers felt tears dampen their beards as they carved tomb after tomb for children that should have been the ones to carve theirs instead.

But we survived.

We learned to cover every bit of clothing, every scrap of leather and cloth in gold. Every chamber, every street, every cavern lined in it. No longer was lead cast aside as nothing more than a tinker's tool. Now every drop of it was precious, beaten flat and covered in gold, used to line the halls of our kingdoms.

So my great-grandfather told my father, as he told me. As I will tell my sons and daughters, so they never forget.

It's truly amazing what we Dwarves will create when left to our own devices. Every hundred years or so, the King will send a group of volunteers to the surface, to see if the Endless Winter showed any signs of abating, if the burning ash burns less.

As the centuries passed, little changed on the surface. But there were many who grew tired of our isolation, and longed for the fresh wind and the companionship of our brothers in other kingdoms.

Rather than repress them, our king, in his wisdom, appointed those who still longed for the outside world to create ways to survive in the hellish land the Elves had rained down upon us.

And so our skills increased, our machines becoming ever more complex as our Creatives strive to find ways to lessen the impact of the Winter, and make our lives more comfortable and productive.

We discovered the expansive properties of steam, we harnessed the fires of the earth itself to warm our homes, and light our streets. We created artificial sun and starlight, not with the magic of the Elves, or the primitive tallow fires of men, but with ingenuity and clever machines. Balls of glass that glowed like the sun, and drops of sapphire that shone like stars.

We created lightning, and stored it in jars. We built the power of the ancient gods ourselves. Columns that shone bright to light the day, and tiny blue stars of light in the carven ceilings to make the night less black. We took those jars, and fashioned gears and wheels and wire to drive our mining carts and lifts. We created hammers driven by the heat of the earth and the explosive power of water. We made glass, coated in gold so fine you could see through it, and for the first time in a generation, had windows to bring sun and moonlight down to the kingdom. What little there was. 

We made great mirrors, and reflected that light to our farms, and homes. The Creatives made giant mirrors and lenses, and used them to see great distances from the Sightglass they built on the top of our mountain. The first time they were able to look through it, and see for hundreds of leagues was looked forward too with such anticipation! And met with such bitter disappointment. For as far as the eye could see, even with the Sightglass, there was nothing but more of the burning ash blanketing the world.

So we stayed below, as we have always done. And another generation passed.

And the Creatives made another leap forward. They created glass that could be layered with transparent gold, and made helmets and armor and boots and gloves that were finally able to withstand the burning of the Winter on the surface. They created carts, driven by the heat of rocks they found on the surface, that when enclosed properly, and cooled with water, powered those carts, and enabled us to finally start exploring the surface again.

And so we finally emerged after all this time. Dwarves, covered in gold, driving carts that glowed and shone like the sun that could no longer be seen. Dwarves, with golden gears clicking about them, steam rising from their shoulders as the armor made by the Creatives did it's work of making the air breathable, and keeping out the ash and dust. Dwarves with golden-hued glass helms, leaving virgin footprints in the ashen plains around the mountain. 

Dwarves, had finally managed to reclaim the earth.

And we explored. We searched for any sign that other life had returned to the surface. We traveled long and far, always finding nothing more than half-buried ruins of ancient civilizations; giant statues and crumbling walls, trees turned to stone, rivers nothing more than vast trenches filled with powdery ash that we sank in as if it was actually water, long petrified bones serving as the only memorial to those who once filled the cities of men.

More and more of us migrated to the surface, our new Technics affording us the same protections of our ancient caverns. We started to realize as a people that our love of caves stemmed primarily from a desire to be left alone as a people, a way to avoid being interfered with. And now that the surface was empty, there was nothing dissuading us from enjoying it.

And then the world as we had come to know it changed.

Reports from the Foragers came back that they had found a place untouched by the Endless Winter. A place where green still existed.

No one believed them at first, but then the silverplate images started coming back. Plates that showed trees. Rivers that held water. A deer. Things no one alive had ever seen with their own eyes. And most still didn't believe.

Until one day, the Foragers brought back an oak tree. A sapling, green and lithe, rooted in black earth, set in a pit of solid gold, a dome of golden glass shielding it from the ash.

Not long after that monumental revelation, our entire town mobilized. Great carts with wheels of chain to move entire houses were built. Flexible bridges covered in golden glass wove between them, domes of gold creating a sea of glittering bubbles that floated across the plains as an entire Dwarven city slowly crept across the fields and hills of ash.

Ten years it took for our city to make it to the eastern mountains. Ten years of waiting impatiently to see what the Foragers had been promising us.

And then we finally saw it with our own eyes. We saw the ash fade into brown grass and weeds, and those give way gradually to actual grasses, and bushes, and finally, a single tree at the top of the ridge.

But what we saw from that ridge left even our most effusive poets speechless.

Green. Nothing but green as far as we could see. An emerald jewel of a vale set apart from the ashen wasteland behind us. And birds. A young one claimed they spotted a deer. The sound of a small stream twinkled through the air like a long forgotten melody of hope. A single, thin spire hung in the air, and only the Eldest was able to remember what it was called or what it meant.

Smoke! Specifically, chimney smoke. It rose from the forest like a beacon, a sign that we may not be the only ones to have survived.

As we were debating the best way to approach whomever may be there, we were all shocked to the bone to hear a small voice right behind our Elder.

"'Ere! Wotcha 'bout then? Not from 'round 'here, are yous?"

Of all those who could have survived, of course it had to be the Hobbits.

===================================

Story tag list

@random-with-garlic @a-dinosaurs-left-phgkneecap @flower-in-the-ashes @nixabee @luvnaught @pens-swords-stuff @alice-and-cheshire-cat @humans-are-seriously-weird @flying-f1shsticks @Neil-gaiman @glumshoe @lykanyouko @kaylewiswrites @just-a-bit-paranoid @thatsmybluefondue @Alice-and-Cheshire-cat @violet-galaxies @biggest-gaidiest-patronuses @midnight-spectrum-again @slytherinlovespuff @friendofcybermen @hemi528i @mirbisduschoen @khelladon @walkin-in-the-cosmos

As always, if you want to be added to or removed from the tag list, just shoot me a message and your wish is my command. 

[siarven]

11/11/11 Tag

Tagged by @fatal-blow​, thank you!! <333 

there are so many tag things waiting for me and I’m procrastinating everything but this looks fun so here we go!

1.       How many wips do you have going on right now?

Uhhhh.....in terms of active wips I have two! As Dreams Collide and Like Dragons of Old. Though Dreams is more active than Dragons, right now, because dammit I have to finish something once. Both are the first in a trilogy, but Dragons is probably going to escalate very badly and be 400k long. I hope Dreams stays under 200k XD 

Counting on-hold WIPs all in all I have ... 9? I bet none of them will stay standalones, so ... far too many. :’D Whyyyy can’t I do short things.

2.       Loud clicky keyboards or quiet keyboards?

Hmm I started typing “quiet keyboard” but then realized that mine clicks pretty loudly so I guess.... I like keyboard sounds? XD 

3.       Who was your first OC?

That is a very good question. I don’t really remember? I’ve never written fanfic so all characters in all my stories were original (well, sort of, some were very similar to characters from my latest fave book.... xD) I told myself stories long before I could write... I think it might have been a tiger xDDD 

I think my “first proper” OC is Ilien, who’s been ghosting through my stories for a pretty long time now. He’s now one of the main characters in Firewings, an immortal, 500-year-old sort-of-mercenary who is known by others as “fog rider” (It sounds better in German...) and most people think he’s a myth. He wears only white and runs around at night killing poeple-eating monsters and saving those stupid enough to be caught by them. Firewings sort of grew around him and his accidentally-adopted-daughter :D

4.       Are there any common themes that come up in a lot of wips or characters?

I really, really love hope punk since its creation last year! I think the theme in that would be ... weaponized kindness and compassion and hope? xD

Grey morality is 100% my thing

I usually have some sort of dragon in any given story, does that count as a theme?

Also, really mean, creative magic systems and the cost of power

I love the found family trope :’3

platonic love!!!!!!! (but also all other kinds of love)

stories!

uhhhh probably more but I can’t think of anything

5.       Are there any genres you currently write for now that you never thought you would write for when you first started?

Uhhh not really xD I’ve always loved fantasy stories and my stories are still mostly fantasy xD 

6.       Do you typically spend more time developing/creating protagonists or antagonists?

Hmm I think it’s definitely protagonists xD I usually start developing them far earlier, too, and then the antagonists sort of come after xD

7.       Do you have a line you’ve written that you really like? Post it if you do!

I can’t think of one right now, probably because the only thing I’ve written during this past month has been an “Overly Detailed Outline” of As Dreams Collide. XD

8.       When you’re coming up with a new wip, where do you usually find inspiration?

There are so many ways! Usually it starts with a character, or a place, or a concept, and then it grows around that. Or “what if”s! I also really like pinterest for character/place/mood inspiration :3 I’ve found that my most creative ideas usually come from non-fiction talks, novels, or documentaries (or travelling). Especially when these things are about something connected to nature :3 

As Dreams Collide started with a certain “mood” and an image I had in my head back in 12th grade, which I then wrote down, made a short story out of, and then it turned into a novel during NaNoWriMo 2014. It’s something completely different now and even that original mood and image are gone, but it’s grown with its characters and the world and I really like where it’s going. The original idea was quite similar to a lot of other things, which was fine... but it’s much more original now, and I really, really like that :3 Also it’s much more me than that original idea would’ve been xD 

Like Dragons of Old started with the idea of a half-feral kid being raised among towering stacks of books in a library, with stories being a very important theme. (I got that idea from listening to a talk by Neil Gaiman about the importance of stories and, specifically, libraries). Then another kid emerged, who’d been born in the library, and LDOO evolved into a story of two children who loved each other more than anything else in the world, but would grow up to make a single different choice under the very same circumstances which would set them on drastically diverging paths, and who would end up as terrible enemies one day, while still loving each other. 

I realized quite quickly that it would have to be a trilogy, and I also really liked the idea that they’d start out as kids and grow up in the first one, be apart from one another in the second, and be around 40 or 50 years old during the last book, when everything had escalated to its worst point and they would meet again on opposing sides. 

Timbre and Selandri slowly turned into people, and the world(s) they would live in mostly emerged from inspirational photos and art that I found on pinterest :D

The magic system and gods came from a long brainstorming session, with me deciding in the beginning that it would be sound/music magic and tree gods, and then trying to figure out how to make that into a cool thing.

Onii, the phoenix who chooses to look like a chicken, happened because I really wanting a chicken in the story, but one who wouldn’t die from old age during it, and then she was suddenly a POV character x). 

It’s grown out of a bunch of random ideas and images that have next to nothing in common which I really loved, and it’s now my fave WIP ever. I have all of those random mini-ideas and concepts written on small pieces of paper, and all of them are stuck together so I don’t loose them in the chaos XD

Usually my best ideas are things that have nothing in common, get put in a big pot, stirred thoroughly, and are somehow “cooked” into a coherent story x)

Hm, this escalated a bit whoops

9.       Would you ever want to have writing as a career?

Yessssss

10.   What is your ideal writing environment?

I have a desk and there I sit and type XD Bonus points if I can listen to film/game scores, or instrumental music. Extra bonus points when there’s a thunderstorm outside and I don’t have to leave the whole day and can just write. :’)

11.   Pick your favorite question that I answered and answer it!

Well, you gave me the same questions, so... XD 

---------

I’m an idiot and also lazy so you all get the same questions because they were very good questions and I want to know your answers :)

instead of question 11 you get: What are your favourite 3 books and why? (it’s a great way to find new books hehe :D all the unread books in my bookshelf sigh in horror) 

I’m tagging @romenna @fynniana @madmoonink @kittensartswriting @raiswanson @paper-shield-and-wooden-sword @wilde-writing @theprissythumbelina @cirianne and anyone else who wants to x) Only if you want to, of course! :3

[dazedandinked]

Bad man, sad man - (Chapter 2/2)

Chapter 1: https://dazedandinked.tumblr.com/post/183189058536/bad-man-sad-man-chapter-12

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17984987/chapters/42482834

Fandoms: Peaky Blinders (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett

Additional tags: Crossover, Alternate Universe, Season 3 Spoilers, Mentioned Character Death, Strangers to Friends, Friendship, Humor, Light Angst, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Happy Ending.

Chapter summary:

Many other nights followed that first drink at the Garrison. Crowley had the chance to meet the Shelby family and to share small little secrets with Tommy.

But all the good things in life come to an end.

A/N:  So here it is! I know this work is quite short but maybe there'll be more of this odd crossover in the future.

You can find it on 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17984987/chapters/42762287

Chapter 2: But my dreams they aren't this empty

Many other nights followed that first drink at the Garrison. Sometimes they met in Birmingham, sometimes in London where Tommy had business with Mr. Solomons (another odd man Crowley had the not-pleasure to meet.) Sometimes he visited Tommy at his house or in Watery Lane, therefore  he had the chance to meet the Shelby family.

They were friends, somehow, and this was something new to both of them. Crowley have always had nothing but Aziraphale and their weird, century-old friendship (because it wasn't just an alliance anymore); Tommy had his noisy extended family, but he couldn't really say he had a friend since Freddie Thorne, and things got complicated after the war.

During their evenings they drank, smoked and talked, a lot. Sometimes alone, sometimes with Ada or Polly and, after a while, Crowley found himself quite enjoying their company as well. He liked discussing communist principles with Ada (something the world thought coming straight from hell) and talking about religion and occultism with Polly. They were sharp and clever, obviously the force holding the family and the business together. He couldn't understand why men were so convinced of their gender supremacy. Really.

And then, there were his brothers.

In Crowley’s eyes, the Shelby siblings were basically a heap of angst, rage and cheekbones. Nevertheless, he could understand why ordinary people were so respectful towards them. Arthur a crazy horse, wrecked to the core but still trying to pull his shit together; John didn’t seem to know what to do half of the time (but fortunately he had Esme, helping him the other half); Finn was just a kid trying to act like his elder brothers.

Last but not least Michael, their cousin: secure and restrained on the outside, scared and full of doubts on the inside. A bit like Tommy, Crowley thought after talking to him for a while.

With the right amount of alcool in their blood, they shared many bits of their private lives: Tommy talked about Grace and Charlie, about the war and his nightmares, and Crowley rambled too many things about himself and, sometimes, about Aziraphale. He vaguely remembers mentioning the fact that he had met Byron in person, and that he was a pompous haughty arse.

But they had some kind of agreement on not talking about work and business.

"It's not a matter of trust,” Tommy explained once, "it's just tha-- I prefer leaving all that stuff at the office, whenever I can.”

And they never discussed about Crowley always wearing sunglasses and the yellow eyes Tommy was sure they were covering. A trick of lights, the man said to himself, or some kind of disease. Or maybe he just preferred ignorance for once in his life.

***

Months passed, with more meetings and dinners, but Crowley and Aziraphale never talked about this Tommy-thing properly. After all the time they’ve known each other, it was nice to still have a secret just for himself. And besides, although Crowley would never admit it, he was a bit nervous about the angel’s opinion on the matter.

He mentioned Tommy once or twice during their conversations, elegantly avoiding every subtle question and curious glance, until Aziraphale decided to bring all this secrecy to an end.

The topic casually popped out during one of their long strolls in St. James, while they were planning one of their usual dinners.

“Oh, not Friday, sorry. Going to Birmingham.”

“Again? Really?” Aziraphale asked, his voice high pitched.

“What, are you jealous?” Crowley sniped back with a smirk on his face.

“Of course not!” Liar, the demon thought. The angel frowned, recollecting his thoughts while feeding the ducks.

“It’s just— I’m a bit surprised. I know you enjoy some human things but, you’ve never shown affection to humankind.”

“I’m a demon, I think it’s normal,” he shrugged, trying to hide himself behind his glasses.

Aziraphale chuckled, the sound of small bells coming from his mouth. “Please, dear, we both know you are not… conventional. And don’t get me wrong, it’s a good thing. This Thomas, he must be something if you’re so fond of him.” He threw the last piece of bread into the pond and they started walking again, side by side.

“I don’t think fondness is the right word. He needed help, I did my black magic thing. End of the story.”

“Because you’re a very diligent demon, of course,” the angel said wryly and Crowley rolled his eyes.

“Fine. I helped him because — I don’t even know. But his voice was so clear, his pain so real that I couldn’t help following it,” he finally admitted.

Then Aziraphale did something Crowley didn’t expect, at all. He put his hand on the demon’s arm, squeezing slightly. Physical contact was a line they crossed only for special occasion. Crowley looked at him with wide eyes and the angel withdrew his hand immediately, blushing under all the tiny freckles on his cheeks.

Aziraphale sighed. “You did something nice, it must have felt good. I can’t even remember the last time I interacted with a human being like this. Just small things to help them, our duty is to keep balance, they said.

He looked really sad and Crowley hated it with all of his heart. Melancholy didn’t look good on  that pretty face. Maybe this could sound like a stereotype, but Aziraphale have always been the one good at comforting. Crowley didn’t know what to do in this kind of situation, but he would definitely make an attempt to swipe that gloomy expression away.

Stupid Archangels who give stupid orders.

“We’ve got plenty of time to fix that. What I’ve done, it was anything special. Just answer a call or two, there are so many humans that need a guardian angel”, and he gave him what was supposed to be a warm and reassuring smile (like Aziraphale would do), but that probably looked more like a crooked grin. But the angel deeply appreciated it anyway.

“Unless you are so scrupulous you want to stick to Heaven’s rules,” Crowley said amused, finally managing to get a small smile out of Aziraphale.

“Oh and, by the way, I’m not sure you’d define helping Tommy as the right choice,” he added. “He’s kind of a gangster, who knows what kind of dangerous shady business he—,”

“What?!” Aziraphale looked at him in disbelief, “You mean, the first time you take an interest in mankind ever, it is because of a dejected gangster?!” and his voice high pitched again.

Aw, Crowley thought, that’s my finicky boy.

“Are you surprised? Really? I’m not a saint and I don’t do charity. I like humans with a moral sense as twisted as mine,” he sneered.

Crowley walked away, leaving Aziraphale behind. He didn’t need to see his face to know it was red with disapproval and indignation.

“Oh, Crowley, I can’t believe it! Yo— you’re—”

“Fabulous? I know, Angel. And please don’t judge him from his job. Now, you have centuries of helping old ladies with their bags to catch up with. Chop chop!”

***

But all the good things in life come to an end, like a bottle of fine whiskey. This thought strikes Crowley’s mind every time, even though he should have learnt the lesson by now.

The day Tommy died, he got a call from Ada. He could hear the light tremble in her voice.

“I thought you might like to know,” she just said. He got all the details about the funeral and hung up the phone.

He knew that day would come since the beginning. Tommy was just a man, after all. No matter how long his life would last, it wouldn’t have been enough.

Crowley kept himself busy for the couple of days before the funeral. He had to make calls, meet people and ask for favors. He also asked Aziraphale for help, hushing him before he could start rambling about feelings and grief, forcing a cup of tea in his cold hands.

The price was high but, in the end, he had what he wanted.

It’s a nice place for a funeral, Crowley thought stepping out his car. He gazed at the thin line where the green fields met the sky. A small group of people, all dressed in black, was gathering slowly around a wooden cart.  He stayed away from them, watching Tommy’s family crying and giving their farewell. Only Ada spotted him; she waved at him sheepishly, grabbing Karl’s shoulder with the other hand.

Tommy was watching them too, sitting on a fallen trunk beside the cart. His face was calm as usual, not even blinking when he noticed Crowley staring right at him.

“You dont’ look surprised to see me,” the demon said mildly amused, and sat next to him.

“I suppose not,” Tommy answered like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Always the most unpredictable, and for the first time he didn’t avoid thinking about how much he’d have missed him.

Tommy asked for a last cigarette together and Crowley made them appear. They just stayed there, smoking in silence. At some point, Crowley took his sunglasses off, finally giving his friend a full sight of his yellow snaky eyes. Tommy huffed a smile.

“They look… appropriate on you,” and the demon couldn’t help laughing.

But then the man sighed heavily. “Do I need to leave immediately? And will— will you take me there?”

“I will, but there’s no hurry. We can go whenever you’re ready”

Tommy nodded in acknowledgment.

They sat there for a while longer, watching the cart burning slowly. He inhaled the last breath of his cigarette and stood up, giving a last glance at his family.

“Keep an eye on them, on Charlie, would you?”

Of course he wasn’t the right creature for something like that, but he decided to indulge his friend’s last wish.

“I’ll try,” and he put his pale hand on Tommy’s shoulder.

They looked at each other, a tiny smile on their faces, and then they vanished into thin air.

***

Many years later, Crowley was hurrying across the streets of London when he stumbled across a small handmade hat shop. Between sharp top hats and bowlers, he noticed a grey flat cap in the right corner of the shop window. The demon crossed the door wearing his most amiable smile, bought the hat and left in a few minutes.

He kept it in a small box at the top of his closet and, sometimes, he wore it just to remember.

(And Aziraphale never stopped joking tenderly about it.)

[eatingfireflies]

11 Questions WIP tag meme:

Tagged by @chessanator​! Thanks for tagging!! :D

Tagging @greaseonmymouth​, @hardcoreprince​, @amberlyinviolet​ (i missed you!! ;;;), @billyweird​, @zossie​. But you guys don’t have to ofc!

1. How long have you been writing?

Me and my cousins used to make little illustrated booklets when we were kids. I was around 6-7 years old (probably) because I remember making Sailor Moon comics as well and I was that age when Sailor Moon showed in my country. When I was a kid what I really wanted to do was do comics, but things happened. :”D

2. What are the major themes of your current wip(s)?

I’m trying to think back and most of my WIPs seem to be about life getting pear-shaped and the characters having to deal with that. Two of them will need the ‘Major Character Death’ warning at AO3 if I ever post them. 

3. What do you want people to take away from your story once they’ve read it?

Depends on what fic they read. :”D But if a person got something from my fics that I did not intend, then all the power to them. So long as it’s not ‘that writer sucks’ lol!

4. Would you be excited if people write fanfiction about your wip(s)?

I’m torn because I love sharing headcanons and trends, and I’d be SUPER flattered if anyone wrote fic based on any of mine but there’s also the worry re: accusations of plagiarising and stealing someone else’s ideas. So personally, I’d be excited. But in a more general level it’s a bit of a thornier issue. 

And I know this is an issue with trad pub/canon vs fanfic on a bigger scale (like how some traditionally published writers won’t read fics based on their own work no matter how supportive they are of transformative work because of the whole plagiarism issue (accidental or otherwise)) but yeah.    

5. What’s your go-to writing beverage?

Water lol. I don’t need to drink anything to get going, but I do need cigarettes to function properly. Pls don’t start smoking. 

6. Who is your favorite oc? Tell me about them!

I’m going to talk about an OC from Travelling in company--a Junpei + Phi detective bros fic. So there will be spoilers.

But yeah I really like Hirata Ichirou. He’s the Mr Body in this fic: the character who was written to die so we can investigate what happened. At first I didn’t really know exactly what happened to him (lmao I knew it was cult-related but also personal but I didn’t decide until I was halfway done with the fic) and he was simply a nameless chinpira, but as the fic went on I realised I knew exactly what Hirata died of and why. I grew really fond of the guy. 

He likes to eat parfaits with his childhood friend, I mean. Come on.  

In actual WIPs uuuh. I don’t generally write OCs? Sorry folks. :”D

7. Do you feel that mistakes are important learning tools in the writing journey?

Not if I don’t catch the mistakes and correct them. One of the most important learning tools imo is reading books. Not fics by other people (which btw are really good and writers like franticbabbles taught me a lot about writing) but traditionally published novels. See how its done by someone who (hopefully) has a professional editor to ‘curb their spur’, decide what works for you and what doesn’t. I find that aside from having a beta, it helps you catch mistakes and decide whether you want to correct them or not. 

As Neil Gaiman said--and I paraphrase--your style are the things that you get ‘wrong’. But it defo helps to know the rules before you break them.

8. Rank your ocs by their capability in a footchase (either running after or from smth, your choice)

Here’s a bunch from Travelling in company because that fic has yakuza in it.

1, Honda Mitsuo/Wakaisha #1: very competent man. Can probably kill you with a paperclip

2, Mishima: not incredibly physically active but he has the brains and the resources to make it so he doesn’t have to run very far if he has absolutely no choice in the matter

3, Hirata Ichirou: okay dude. A chinpira and has probably run away from the police/other yakuza members before. Knows shortcuts and dead ends.

4, Satou Keiichi: more buff than fast on his feet. You can trust him to protect you, but not so much when it comes to running after escaping attackers.

Bonus from Kentucky for Christmas:

5, Hugh Grant (not the actor but a detective who insisted he looked like the actor): not very useful. Fell down a building while on the run from gangsters. 1/10 won’t recommend.  

9. Does your wip have romance? tell me about it!! if not tell me about a friendship/important relationship in your wip!!

Oh all the romance. I only write romance fics, didn’t you know? :”D All those mysteries and crimes are just frills for the romance and bonding. 

Right now I’m in the middle of writing a scene where Aoi and Junpei bond over Gunplas. 

10. Do you believe in the advice kill your darlings?

Yes. I have a ‘rags box’ which is a gdocs file where I throw all the lines of dialogue and narrative I had to cut from fics. Hoping that someday, somewhere, I can recycle them in some form. Don’t let them go entirely, they might still be useful for another piece if not the one you’re working on. 

Another thing I learned from this guy who taught Creative Writing in my first language was be mindful of your POV. In an exercise, he made us write about the emotions of an old woman going to a shopping mall right after the death of her husband. I was raring to go. I wrote about this old woman grabbing her daughter’s elbow tightly because she felt she was going to float all the way to the domed ceiling of the mall--that’s how light she felt. 

Teacher: Is that the old woman talking, or you?

Me: How do you mean?

Teacher: That literary~ language, is that her or you? 

Me: It was me.

Teacher: Great, rewrite that. 

Yeah, sometimes we have to kill our darlings, our floating into the ceiling moment, to present the experiences of a certain character fully. And that’s fine. 

(It’s also fine if you don’t want to. It’s just something that works for me.) 

11. Do you prefer plotting or worldbuilding? Why?

Worldbuilding. I’m so bad at coming up with events is why :”D I literally need prompts. But once I have a firm grasp on the world the characters are inhabiting I get more ideas on what they could do and what could happen around them.