#literary fanfiction

[forbidden-sunlight]

yandere! literary agent with fem!reader scenario

warnings: implication of obsessive thoughts or love.

There might be potential triggers in this story. If you do not feel comfortable venturing any further, please hit the 'back' button on your mobile device or computer and read something much more pleasant.

You are responsible for your Internet consumption!

Hey guys, welcome back to another yandere fic, introducing Yulian Prescott. I'd like to give a big shout-out to my dear friend @deathmetalunicorn1 for helping me write this and finding the perfect likeness for my character, especially when this idea came to me all of a sudden on a Sunday night when I should be sleeping instead of staying up an ungodly hour.

As always, bullying on here will not be tolerated. If it does happen, this scenario will be taken down. I'm not sure if this will be a series. At the moment, this is just a scenario.

With that being said, sit back, relax, and let's dive into the cutthroat world of publishing.

PART TWO

Yandere!Literary Agent is a man who prides himself on being very good at his job. He represented one of the best publishing houses in the country. Anything less than what he expected from his clients was unacceptable.  

If the manuscript arrived in his inbox exactly two minutes past the promised deadline, he would not look at it. If his client is acting like a stupid moron at a function or royally fucking up their reputation by posting something inappropriate on their social media account, he is not cleaning up their mess. He is not their babysitter. They are full-grown adults. And if one of them is not able to produce another book that will actually sell past the number of copies slated to be printed, he will let them go. Call him cruel if you want. Yandere!Literary Agent is simply being pragmatic. He wasn’t cheap. He only wants the best of the best.

So imagine Yandere!Literary Agent’s surprise when a particularly difficult client sent him a completed manuscript. He planned on writing her an email that after much deliberation, it was time for her to find another agent to represent her. The client, Abigail Crowley, had written an adult dark academia trilogy and a feminist retelling of the myth of Theseus, told from the perspective of his lover Adriane. The manuscripts following the conclusion of her last book, however, were complete shit. Her royalties were nearly gone, having squandered them on a penthouse in a high-end neighborhood, the latest clothes, and a wine fridge. You heard him. A fucking wine fridge when she could have replaced that shoddy laptop of hers with something better so she could keep writing books and not have it crap out on her. 

Half-amused and half-annoyed at this pathetic attempt to keep her contract with the publishing company from being null and void, Yandere!Literary Agent clicked on the attachment and read it. One page became four, then fifty. He had to force himself to stop when it was lunchtime and he was already at the mid-way point. 

This story, it was…good. No, it was more than good. It was absolutely fantastic. And Yandere!Literary Agent did not compliment his clients’ works very often, which meant he believed at this very moment, this manuscript will most definitely become Abigail’s comeback to the literary industry. Book sales would go through the roof, A Netflix deal was also possible. But the first hurdle he had to overcome was pitching the manuscript, and making sure the query letter was at least consistent with the story that Abigail was trying to sell to him.

And he’ll make it happen. He is very good at his job, after all. 

Once he had successfully pitched it with a bit of extra charm, he contacted Abigail. She was over the moon, promising to make any necessary edits to the manuscript and it will be sent to him on time. From there, time fast forwarded. ARC books were sent out, Abigail selected the cover designs for the regular and special editions, and a tentative book tour was scheduled. Seven cities, and one international trip, maybe another in the future. Sales for this book were projected to exceed expectations. Yandere!Literary Agent was very confident things would go smoothly from here. At least he had thought so.

A month before the book was to be published, his secretary knocked on his door and said he had a visitor. They insisted on seeing him. Yandere!Literary Agent raised his brow, rising from his desk and stepping out into the hall and saw you. 

In the beginning, he will begrudgingly confess that his first impression of you was someone who is painfully average and out of place. A backpack slung over your shoulder, dressed in navy blue medical scrubs and looking absolutely haggard. Your eyes, though, shined with anxiety and determination. You inclined your head. 

“I apologize for the sudden intrusion, I know you’re busy, but I have some concerns about the book that’s going to be released soon by Abigail Crowley.” 

Yandere! Literary Agent’s gaze sharpened.. “And what, pray tell, are your complaints?” He crossed his arms. “Are you one of the people who had signed up to be ARC reader and didn’t get their copy?” 

You raised an eyebrow. “...No?”

“Then why -”

“Because it is my novel that is being published. Without my consent.” You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “Look, I know it is hard to believe, I get it.” You then swung your backpack around to your front, unzipping the larger compartment. You pulled out a large notebook, some papers, and a flash drive. You held them out to him. “But I think what I have here might convince you to allow me ten minutes, if not five, to hear me out. That’s all I’m asking. This isn’t about money, this isn’t about suing your company. I just want my story back. I’ve already tried talking to Abigail about it, and she isn’t picking up my calls. Please.” You said. “Three minutes.” 

His schedule was clear until the two o’clock meeting with another client on the other side of town. That was about an hour and half from now, as he had just come back from lunch. He supposed he could give you three minutes. Rolling his eyes, Yandere!Literary Editor swiveled on his heel. 

“Let’s see what you have. Melissa, please hold my calls until I’m done.” His diligent secretary nodded and went back to her desk. You followed him like a lost little duckling back to his office. Once the door was closed, you handed him everything. 

Yandere!Literary Editor went over the materials carefully, flipping through the pages of the notebook. The outlines and character designs were here, all written in excruciating detail and in such tiny print. He asked you random questions, going off of his memory from the manuscript and these notes. You answered him without hesitation.

“Yes, that’s correct. What? No, absolutely not. I would never have those characters be romantically paired up! Their relationship is too toxic, and wouldn’t set a good example to the target audience. I’m sorry, what? No, that isn’t her name! It’s Cristabel, not Anastasia! She’s supposed to be assisting the Night Emperor with collecting intelligence via the gossip of salons under her alias, not swooning over his brother when he’s already happily married to his wife! Good God, no. That scene should not even be there! That’s filler content and makes the character growth of the protagonist seem like the pay-off wasn’t worth it, or that he didn’t learn anything at all since the beginning of the book!” 

Yandere!Literary Agent grounded the molars of his back teeth, inhaling slow, deep breaths through his nostrils. Keeping his emotions in check is one of the reasons why he has survived in the publishing industry for this long, and he’s such a successful man. 

But hearing you speak about the characters, perfectly recalling the manuscript’s themes and looking back at the notebook in his hand, seeing the colorful  sticky notes with edits and improvised scenes written on them…he couldn’t deny it any further. You were the real author of the book he’s representing, and Abigail Crowley played him like a goddamned fiddle.

 If this wasn’t enough damning evidence of his client’s plagiarism, you had shown him an original illustration of the world you had created. It was done by an artist you had commissioned on Etsy, with proof of purchase for their services and a timestamp. Three years ago. That was when Abigail’s last best-selling book hit the shelves, and when her creative well began to dry out. 

You must have caught on to his irritation, because you told him that you weren’t here to intentionally stir up any trouble. A coworker had told you about Abigail’s newest book coming out, and the premise was exactly yours, at least what was advertised in the BookTok and Youtube trailers online. You’ve been searching high and low for your manuscript, and the only other person who has been in your apartment and knew about your creative endeavors has been Abigail. She wasn’t really your friend, per say. You took some of the same creative writing courses. You eventually found another career to pursue, and you kept writing as a hobby. She went on to become a professional author and never missed an opportunity to show off her success whenever she invited you out for drinks at an upscale bar or went to fancy dinners. 

Why would Abigail steal the book you’ve been working on for three years when you work a full-time day job, you had no idea. She’s living the dream that she’s always wanted, defying her mother’s wishes to get a normal job because writing is everything to her, and she would never give up on it. But if you were to be hypothetical, it might be another attempt to somehow get one up on her self-proclaimed rival, Cindy Chen, who is an even bigger success than her. 

You then rubbed your eyes. “Sorry, it’s been a long day.” You murmured, standing up from your seat. “Keep the notebook, the maps, whatever you want. If you could return them to me when you’re done, that’s all I ask. And an apology from Abigail, if you’re able to get one out of her. Like I said, this isn’t about money, royalties, or fame. I just want my story back.” 

Yandere!Literary Agent immediately stood up, his eyes slightly widened in fear. “Wait, please, just a moment! I know you’re tired, you want to go home…but I need to set things right. If I had known that this manuscript, your story, had been stolen, I would have never spearheaded its  publication.” And he wouldn’t have. Not only would it affect his reputation, but the company’s too. Stocks would plummet, and there would be a feeding frenzy on social media with #abigailcrowley, #plagiarism, #sailboatpublishinghouse. 

When you looked at him, his heart lurched uncomfortably at seeing your lips fall into a crestfallen expression. You looked so tired, so done with everything, and oh god you looked like you were about to cry shit. Walking around his desk, Yandere!Literary Agent eased you to sit back down and quickly prepared an espresso, possessing a machine to make it in his office so he did not have to walk down five flights to the break room. 

You thanked him for the drink and took a sip, wrinkling your nose slightly, no doubt surprised at the taste. You must not be a regular espresso drinker, or prefer how you made it. Either way, he was grateful that you did not bolt out of the office. Picking up his office phone, he dialed Melissa’s number. 

“Call all of the heads, including the marketing and social media departments. This is an emergency meeting. Now!” Bless Melissa, she did not ask him questions and said she would get on it immediately, hanging up on him. The next person he called was Abigail fucking Crowley. He sweet-talked her into coming to the office, apologizing for interrupting her ‘creativity time’ and promised it won’t take long. She swore to be there in a half an hour, so long as traffic didn’t back up. Yandere!Literary Agent played the understanding card and hung up, his smile being replaced with a smirk. Hook, line, and sinker. He scoffed. He then turned to you. 

“Everything will be resolved soon.” He promised. 

“Sir -” You began. 

“Yulian, please.” 

“Mister Yulian, I understand that you want to make things right, but…can you really get Abigail to talk? She blocked my calls, and the book is hitting the shelves in a month, maybe less than that? How are you going to recover the money that has gone into getting it published, the fees for the printing companies, and the marketing? Correct me if I’m wrong, I’m not too familiar with how publishing works these days.” 

You weren’t wrong, at least in the aspect that the company has put a significant amount of money into the publication of the stolen manuscript, your work, he added mentally. It was too late to stop the printing, and the final draft would need a significant amount of changes. Unless…

“Abigail is a plagiarist, and you are the rightful creator. The way I see it, we can salvage the financial loss by putting your name on the cover, and fixing the glaring omissions as well as other scenes you claim shouldn’t even be there.” He sighed, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Of course, we would need to have a press conference and explain why we are changing authors, and what she has done. Considering the timetable and coordinating with the printing companies, it will be cutting it close.” 

You stared at him silently for a long moment before placing the espresso cup back onto the tiny saucer with a soft clink, releasing a heavy sigh. “If I agree to do this, to help with the edits, probably fuck up my sleeping pattern and might potentially be fired from my job unless I can use some of my PTO, what will I get in return?” 

He smiled. “Abigail will be the one to pay for publishing and marketing fees. I can extend the deadline for the revisions by a week. And you will be paid for your time, of course. There will be no need to come here to drop off revisions either. All correspondence will be through email. As an agent, I am qualified to be your representative during press conferences, so you will not have to be present. All I would ask of you is to turn in the final manuscript on time and not say anything on social media until our legal team is fully prepared.”

“No need to worry about Twitter or Facebook. Haven’t logged  on to my account in years.” You raised the espresso cup to your lips. “Too much politics.” You tilted your head to the side, a puzzled frown stretching across your face. “Any chance I could get all of this in writing? I might need to get a lawyer if Abigail tries to take it to court and sue me for defamation.” 

Yandere!Literary Agent nodded. He opened up a blank document and immediately typed up the contract, including everything that you have discussed and a few other variables. Once he finished, he printed it out, handing it to you. You read through the contents carefully before handing it back to him.

“It looks good - it’s all here and I’m agreeable to the terms.” You said.

Humming under his breath, Yandere! Literary Agent signed the bottom. You signed your name next to his, with today’s date and the time. 

He ignored the tiny tingle that crawled up his spine when your fingertips brushed against his as you gave him back the pen. You agreed to stay until the matter with Abigail was over, and he would email you the manuscript so you could go through everything when you get home. 

As it turned out, you did not have to wait much longer for the best-selling author to make her entrance at Board Room 3. Exchanging numbers with Yandere! Literary Agent you would wait in the adjacent room until he sent you a text to make your entrance. Melissa escorted you to said room when he received a message from Abigail that she would be here in ten minutes. 

It’s time. That was the message he sent you. When you opened the door, revealing yourself to the staff and the flustered Abigail…she snapped. 

She rambled how she needed a book, just one more successful book, and she would be set for life. She wouldn’t lose her penthouse, she would still be considered a worthy rival to Cindy Chen, and above all else, she could still write as she had always wanted to do since she was a teenager. You already had a normal job, you had a steady income, you weren’t even a writer. Being a hobbyist writer did not count. Yes, she took your manuscript, but it wasn’t a big deal! You could just write another book when you had time between shifts at the hospital, right? 

The look you gave her…it was resignation. Hopelessness. Disappointment. 

“Abbie…it wasn’t just a story I wrote. You should know that. Writing is so much more than that. I’ve tried to be nice, to talk to you but you wouldn’t listen. I’m sorry it’s come to this, I really am.” You said. That was the last thing you said before you were escorted outside of the door. Seeing your part in this is over, Yandere! Literary Agent took control of the room. 

“Whether it is a hobby or professional writing, it doesn’t change the fact that you stole someone’s work and tried to pass it off as your own.” He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “You are a thief, nothing more and nothing less.” Then the lawyers approached Abigail, presenting her with the fees she will need to pay. If there was an issue, going to court would not be an issue as he had all of the evidence needed to ruin the once best-selling writer Abigail Crowley. 

Her reaction was….amusing. 

After security had escorted the screaming woman off of the premises, Yandere!Literary Agent went to search for you, thinking you had gone back to his office to wait for him. You weren’t there. Melissa said you did stop by her desk, only to leave a message on a sticky note that you needed to go home but promised to get the revisions done as fast as you could, and thanks for the espresso it was really good. 

Yandere!Literary Agent smiled softly at the hastily written chicken scratch, pocketing it in his trousers before going back inside his office. You weren’t like any of his other clients. And he would like to get to know a bit more. Who knows? Perhaps….he could persuade you to sign a contract with him, be your agent. You shouldn’t hide your talents from the world. There were people who would love to read your stories, and he had no doubt that the company would benefit from it too. 

But there was no need to rush. There was a month until the book was to be released. That was more than enough time for him to work his magic. He is good at his job, after all. 

Taglist

@impeakcharacterdesign

@faesdreaming

@faux-ecrivain

@majestichugs

@abelheilonwife

@suiana

@lxdymoon0357

@dxmoness

@tired-of-life-86

@imperfectbloodmoon

@lovely-nightmares

@yandere-dark-cupid

@beardedblizzardexpert

@d10nsaint

@likesugarandcyanide

@justcressida

@mooly-artistic

@cassanderasblog

@swallowtailcherry

@amidst-the-tempest

@usernames-are-so-hard-to-create

@navierkalani

@yanderefangirl

©️do not repost or use any of the characters depicted here without the author’s permission. forbidden-sunlight, 2024

[bookclub4m]

22 “Literary Fan Fiction” (retellings, adaptations, sequels, parallel novels, etc.) books by BIPOC (Black, Indigenous, and People of Colour) Authors

Every month Book Club for Masochists: A Readers’ Advisory Podcasts chooses a genre at random and we read and discuss books from that genre. We also put together book lists for each episode/genre that feature works by BIPOC (Black, Indigenous, & People of Colour) authors. All of the lists can be found here.

For this booklist, the original story being retold/referenced appears (in parentheses).

Telling Tales by Patience Agbabi (Canterbury Tales by Geoffrey Chaucer)

The Adventures of China Iron by Gabriela Cabezón Cámara (El Gaucho Martín Fierro by José Hernández)

The Family Chao by Lan Samantha Chang (The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoevsky)

Windward Heights by Maryse Condé (Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë)

The Meursault Investigation by Kamel Daoud (The Stranger by Albert Camus)

Unmarriageable by Soniah Kamal (Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen)

Sex and Vanity by Kevin Kwan (A Room With a View by E.M. Forster)

The Ballad of Black Tom by Victor LaValle (The Horror of Red Hook by H.P. Lovecraft)

The Daughter of Doctor Moreau by Silvia Moreno-Garcia (The Island of Doctor Moreau by H.G. Wells)

The Holder of the World by Bharati Mukherjee (The Scarlet Letter by Nataniel Hawthorne and the Ramayana by Valmiki)

Mama Day by Gloria Naylor (The Tempest by William Shakespeare)

Even in Paradise by Elizabeth Nunez (King Lear by William Shakespeare)

The Girl Who Fell Beneath the Sea by Axie Oh (The Tale of Shim Ch'ŏng)

Kaikeyi by Vaishnavi Patel (The Ramayana by Valmiki)

The Wind Done Gone by Alice Randall (Gone With the Wind by Margaret Mitchell)

My Jim by Nancy Rawles (The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain)

Son of a Trickster by Eden Robinson (Wee'git stories)

Unforgivable Love by Sophfronia Scott (Les Liaisons Dangereuses by Pierre Choderlos de Laclos)

The Chosen and the Beautiful by Nghi Vo (The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald)

Prince of Cats by Ron Wimberly (Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare)

Sansei and Sensibility by Karen Tei Yamashita (Various works by Jane Austen)

Pride by Ibi Zoboi (Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen)

[bottlehawk]

shame

[summoningspark]

so i may or may not have printed out the entirety of @anonymousalchemist's amazing fic like a bird, like a stone onto three Very Large pieces of paper.

you might be asking, why, fay? why did you print out an entire 53k fic for a video game you've never played? well you see, if you read it, you would understand.

[classicslesbianopinions]

i don't believe that dante's inferno is fanfiction but i do believe that saying dante's inferno is fanfiction is a great way to find out whether or not the person you're talking to is completely insufferable

[see-arcane]

After reading and watching several adaptations, I have come to the conclusion that Quincey gets much more respect than Jonathan. Yes he appears much less, but he gets his heroic sacrifice when he does instead of getting bastardised. Three times I have seen him be the one who kills Dracula without Jonathan. In two of those he has the kukri.

Also idk if vampire Quincey is underappreciated, there is a novel all about him.

And in this one Jonathan is revealed to have been a cowardly cheater all along.

You know. Sometimes I think I might be going too overindulgent with my Harker Horrors and lavishing of attention on my favorite special little haunted gothic heroine lad.

And then I get lovely reminders like these that not only am I not being indulgent, I have to actively burn every daydream of an inhibition I have as a writer to unfuck 126 years' worth of doing the whole cast dirty, but Jonathan Harker the absolute worst.

[anghraine]

I'm usually irritated by the people sneering about fanfic insisting it is just intrinsically inferior to early modern writers raiding Ovid or Chaucer or the news or each other or whomever. I've never seen anyone have a decent rationale beyond early modern writing is intrinsically Art and fanfic is intrinsically Not Art, because of reasons (the artistic purity of working within early modern patronage and censorship, I guess?).

I'm not talking Shakespeare specifically (though Lear <3). He was by no means alone in borrowing characters and plots from previous sources and then doing his own thing with them. A lot of my favorite plays of the time re-purpose established stories in this way.

But also, it comes around to kind of funny when people are not only insisting that fanfic is definitionally Not Art and in some way totally different from the usual kind of borrowing that goes back millennia, but also that fanfic is somehow morally degenerate and harmful and unhinged in a new and shocking way.

Because if early modern English literature is defined by anything, it's being absolutely fucking unhinged.

I mean! The Revenger's Tragedy?? The White Devil (borrowed directly from the murder headlines)??? My best beloved 'Tis Pity She's a Whore (pretty obviously a spin on Romeo and Juliet But Now With Incest and Even More Murder)? These things are batshit. And fantastic! I love them! But holding them up on some pedestal of artistic and moral purity is just bizarre IMO.

There are differences between what they did and contemporary fanfic because we live in different eras and cultures, in some ways radically so, because copyright and intellectual property work so differently now and have affected storytelling so much, because of the effects of things like genre romance and the Internet and AO3, because patronage and censorship now work very differently in a lot of ways, because educations and literary norms are so different, and so on.

But is fanfic in some way uniquely trashy and shocking by contrast to what those men were thinking up? Nah.

[mermazeablaze]

I didn't attend or even knew "Readers Take Denver" existed until yesterday. I have been watching it explode in real time on Threads. Y'all it's a literary convention that turned into an absolute shitshow. & I find it bizarre that no one on Tumblr is talking about it:

Some Authors & Influencers who were guests had to pay for the privilege.

Authors & Influencers who decided not to attend this year were promoted like they were going to be there. & volunteers & directors made it seem like they were there or going to be there DURING the convention.

Authors & Influencers who were guests were double-booked including their tables & panels.

They didn't receive all the items they were promised including badges, stickers, lanyards & table placards.

Because of the over & double booking of everything - guests & their PAs were verbally assaulted, sometimes including physically, by volunteers & directors.

They had the lights turned off on them.

They had their items thrown off tables & across the room if they didn't move fast enough.

They missed panels they didn't know they were a part of or were thrust into them without knowing they were a part of them.

There were no snacks or water provided to guests.

Volunteers kept attendees from finding or interacting with guests when they were on con floor. & vice versa.

Guests had valuables stolen - cookies, books, purses, etc

During the ball people were sexually harassed & assaulted by people who weren't even part of the con.

Volunteers & directors were going in guest hotel rooms without permission.

Several guests are not coming back & many others who weren't there this year are no longer attending.

Apparently in the FB group moderators aren't allowing in posts disparaging the con.

The con chair was supposed to answer questions in a video chat, but dipped out last second.

Like this was quite literally a clusterfuck to end all clusterfucks.

So if anyone knows or has heard anything let me know. I want to share it with those affected on Threads.

[iconsumethesoulsofthedamned]

Shout out to au’s where Cori is just around. Like Hob and Dream are having their government mandated 50,000k slow burn and Cori is just. There.

Hobs like ???? Is he Dreams son???? Is he related to Dream??? Why is there a 25 yr old twunk that lives in Dreams house and follows him around occasionally??? He flirts with me??? they aren’t dating??? But like there’s a tension there??? What is this??? I’m not complaining but what do I do???

and Dream just doesn’t explain shit. It’s so funny it’s the only good Dreamling human au use of Cori bc you can’t really translate ‘I made him out of sand I’m proud of him but also not’ into human terms. So having Cori be this gay flirty cryptid that lives in Dreams house and eats his food is so on brand it makes me laugh every time.

[ok-boomerang]

fanfiction as textual analysis

a friend shared an episode of the harry potter podcast "witch please" that was all about fanfiction. from the episode:

"Fanfiction demonstrates not only readers' responses to [the] canon text, but their analysis of it. I don't just mean analysis in terms of fan essays, although there are many. I mean, the way in which fanfiction itself, like most fan works, often offers an implicit analysis of the texts and genres to which it responds." (Witch Please podcast, Book 5, Episode 4)

I love this because it's certainly true, maybe even obvious, though we wouldn't usually describe fanfic as "implicit textual analysis" whereas metas and essays are explicit.

Thinking of Zutara as an example, many of the popular ZK conventions serve to critique the show's canon relationships and often its politics too. Three of these conventions that come to mind:

Ambassador Katara -- this is common because in the canon world, we have to get Katara near Zuko. But that's not it, because if that was it Katara could just break all the bones in her body near the Fire Nation and need to recuperate there or something. "Ambassador Katara" ALSO gives Katara an important political role, which is an analysis of Katara's canon future, a critique of her being sidelined. Fire Lady Katara does the same thing!

Bloodbending as healing -- Instead of forcing Katara to abandon her "dark side," Zutara fanfiction often has her accept and reinterpret it, transforming what was considered her "darkness" into something that heals. That's a critique of Katara seen as the paragon of goodness, especially by Aang.

Painted Lady/Blue Spirit -- Of course it's fun and symbolic that Zuko and Katara both had alter egos, but turning them into vigilantes working together highlights some parts of the canon show that work well and that could have developed more: how well Zuko and Katara work together as a team, their empathy for people in need, and their perseverance to do pretty much anything once they set their minds to it.

I'm sure there's a lot more. But tl;dr: Fic writers are doing literary criticism.

[echodrops]

I'm just procrastinating work by thinking about the distressing decline of critical thinking and media literacy, but the take "Writing dark content allows people to heal from their own negative experiences," while true enough, also feels like it is missing a critical dimension:

Fiction needs victims because empathy is a learned skill.

Through sympathizing with the plights of fictional characters, upon whom we can safely project ourselves, we learn to identify with the suffering of others in the real world as well, even those with whom we do not share similarities.

Fiction's central function is the recognition and resolution of conflict, an absolutely vital real life skill that requires the ability to resonate with the challenges of those outside our Self.

Our stories need suffering so the real world can have less of it.

[saintescuderia]

the full catalogue.

ecrit par mdg.

literary-fiction

fan-fiction

non-fiction

below the cut are all my works catalogued according to the above sections. quotes are also mine.

for works catalogued by month, click here [🏎️] marked works are for pieces pertaining to current day formula 1

requests: currently open!

‘it’s literary because i say so / it’s original because you did so.’

poems

still i write them. still i bring them into existence. how do i begin to explain 16.3 dearest as i am now, with you

excerpts from my diary (ft. my notes app)

march 1 march 12 notes app excerpt #053 an ode to my fallen comrade, my laptop may3rd. getting yourself out of a rut

chaptered works

pieces./ part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

‘fanfiction is the self-indulgent reclaimation of art.’

imagines (AKA those dot point blurbs)

cutting petunias | GS/JJK

one-shots

[🏎️] antinal | cs55

multi-chaptered fics

[🏎️] pancakes

‘a writer disconnected from the world / may only find themselves / by writing into it.’

F1 pieces

[🏎️] the cult side of f1 [🏎️] the growing cracks of formula one [🏎️] why daniel ricciardo really, really needs to well in australia [🏎️] thoughts had while marshalling a grand prix

film/music

after life / ricky gervais (2019)

personal essays

on mixtapes the artist's (read: writer's) way [series] - coming soon! an open letter in defence of creative pursuit an open letter in celebration of creative pursuit some thoughts on kendrick lamar's recent disses

[sid-posts]

consider an rb for sample size?

[nulnvoid]

There is not enough Paul Blofis x Sally Jackson x Poseidon on the internet and it is an absolute injustice that must be rectified

[apoptoses]

Something that's been on my mind is seeing the idea that in order for smut to be valid to write it has to have a purpose. It has to say something about the characters, it has to serve as a tool for the plot, it has to have some deep meaning beyond the sex acts involved.

And honestly, that's not true no matter how much some very vocal people might insist that smut without a 'purpose' is just porn and porn is shameful to make and consume.

It's okay to write smut because you think the concept is hot. It's okay to write it just because you want to give your readers jerk off material about their favorite characters. It's absolutely, 100% fine to write smut for smut's sake.

And sure, you want it to be in character, you want to write it so that you can't just file the names off and replace them with anyone. But you can just write something because you think character X should fuck character Y in this very specific way and have that be the end of it.

Call it smut, call it porn, call it whatever. Write the stuff you want to write. You don't have to do literary gymnastics in order to make it 'valid' for anyone, and you especially don't have to make excuses to yourself to justify writing it in the first place.

[theflyingfeeling]

no one asked but here's some more of that cursed Olli/Allu + infidelity trope for y'all, do what you will with this 💔

~

Aleksi couldn't sleep.

He couldn't sleep, so he stared at the ceiling of Olli's guest room, barely able to make out the panelling through the darkness. He couldn't sleep, so he tossed and turned and cursed his aching knees for hitting him when he was already down, bending double in his agony. He couldn't sleep, so he kept kicking the duvet Olli's girlfriend had given him and pulling it over himself again to muffle his frustrated groans.

He couldn't sleep, so he kept replying it in his mind over and over again.

~*~

The new album was the best they had ever made, yet Aleksi wanted to mute it so he could've listened to Olli talk about how he had created the cover art. The wintery scene surrounding them on the frozen Nallikari was breathtaking, but Aleksi only had eyes for Olli and his rosy cheeks.

Aleksi loved playing shows and the adrenaline rush they gave him, but none of that compared to the thrill of Olli standing in front of him and sliding his frozen fingers in the pockets of Aleksi's quilted coat to warm them up. "Forgot my gloves", he said, although to Aleksi the reason was irrelevant.

He had wanted to kiss Olli right there and then already, the freezing sea breeze (and his own piercing fear) the only force keeping him standing straight instead of leaning in. When he finally did kiss Olli, later that day back in Olli's house with Olli's girlfriend asleep in the next room, it felt nothing like the northern wind that had blown right through him hours earlier; instead it felt like those days in early spring when you could finally feel the sun warm you up again after months of cold and darkness and emptiness, because that was exactly how it was for Aleksi: finally getting to feel something he had been longing for. For how long, he wasn't even sure himself.

For months?

(For years?)

(Ever since he understood what longing for someone actually felt like?)

"Uhh," Olli said to his lips, breaking the kiss. "I need to go. Sorry."

And Aleksi had let him, because what else was he supposed to do? Olli had somewhere to be, someone else to sleep next to, and Aleksi, even in his deepest fantasies, had no right to ask him to stay, to ask him to kiss him back again like their lips were built for it (because that's what it had felt like when Olli had kissed him back), to ask him to take him any way he wanted (Aleksi had already imagined them all by then). He couldn't do that, because they couldn't do that, because the universe had a fucked-up sense of humour and had put the two of them together in this infernal parrallel reality in which they could never have each other the way Aleksi needed for them to have each other.

And so Aleksi sat on the thin mattress he had helped Olli get out of the storeroom with endless giggles Aleksi could still feel in his stomach muscles, avoiding having to lie down and smell the fabric softener from the bedsheets and imagine Olli and his girlfriend selecting it together while grocery shopping. Aleksi had grown used to it back at home, avoiding going back upstairs and lie down on his side of the bed and pretend all his thoughts were not consumed by someone else than the person who had – out of courtesy or habit or love, it made little difference anymore – left him a spot to curl up on as if nothing had changed.

The world's quietest knock on the guest room door was not something Aleksi had not expected, however, nor the helpless, almost apologetic look in Olli's eyes, a striking difference from the earlier playfulness on the ice or the hazy lust just seconds before Aleksi had put his lips on Olli's. Now, Olli's eyes were sombre, woeful, and Aleksi could not think of a more blissful fate than to let himself drown in them.

Olli was careful when he closed the door behind him; Aleksi knew exactly why, but anything that was lying in wait for them outside the room vanished when Olli crouched down in front of him and on the mattress with a finger on his lips, ordering Aleksi to not let out a sound. He didn't, not even when Olli took the finger away and replaced it with Aleksi's lips on his, pushing him down the mattress before Aleksi could fight back (like hell he would have).

When Olli kissed down his neck, he tempted his fate and sighed as loud as he dared to without defying Olli's silent directions too much in fear of Olli coming to his senses and rushing out of the room, but on the contrary, Olli only seemed to become more hungry listening to Aleksi's gasps and voiceless moans. Olli's hands found the underside of Aleksi's t-shirt, one he had borrowed from Olli to sleep in with no intention to ever give it back, and Aleksi's attempts to stay quiet became more strenuous by every inch of skin Olli's hands glided on. Olli himself was already topless when he had showed up at the guestroom door frame, which gave Aleksi all the wrong reasons to not stop Olli when he undressed him of his shirt (in his defence (or to his utmost shame), half of him was already imagining their clothless chests pressed together seconds before it actually happened).

Aleksi was more than aware of Olli's hardness grinding against his own, the friction it provided sending Aleksi to heaven by each needy movement of Olli's hips. He was more than ravenous for Olli's touch, starving for it, the hunger for it the driving force for all his actions in that moment. More than anything, Aleksi was in love; in love with the feeling of Olli's hungry mouth on his and his erection grinding next to his own on his abdomen and Olli's long bass player's fingers working him open and their hearts screaming each other by name and with Olli's eyes nailing him to the mattress when they broke apart for some air before their desire would suffocate them.

"Not a sound," Olli mouthed to him when he finally slid inside Aleksi, and with the thinnest thread of willpower Aleksi managed to keep himself from crying into the night like a wolf at the moon. He felt Olli move inside him, first slowly and carefully and – Aleksi couldn't stand it – lovingly, until he found a new rhythm and begun to thrust with more force and lust and need and everything else Aleksi wanted from him, even if none of it would never be his to keep in the end.

Aleksi wrapped his legs tightly around Olli to force him even closer even though Olli was already literally inside him. As per Olli's orders, he didn't dare to speak, but he hoped the look on his face would be enough to let Olli know what he wanted: 'faster, harder, more, right there, like that, don't stop, for the love of god don't let this end, because if I get to have you inside me for one night and then never again, I'd rather this be my mortal moment'.

Seeing the bliss on Olli's face as he thrusted into him eagerly was almost a greater pleasure to Aleksi than the cock moving inside him. That was why, although on the brink of his climax, he fought against it as best as he could, just so he would still be in his senses to witness Olli reaching his own. They kissed once more before either of them got there, their mouths and bodies melting together, with Olli's hands gripping the sheets as Aleksi's moved to his bottocks to urge him to move faster. Aleksi tasted salt and desperation on Olli's lips, from sweat and the growing need to get his release, but when Aleksi felt Olli's teeth bite into his bottom lip, he knew it was only a matter of seconds.

Olli came inside him with a heavy breath that only barely was quiet enough to not be heard outside the room, or so Aleksi hoped, more for Olli's sake than his own. Olli's eyes rolled back for a split second and he stopped thrusting to catch his breath, before looking down at Aleksi and rolling his hips in a circle in such a tormenting way that made Aleksi want to ask Olli what he wanted of him.

Aleksi himself knew exactly what he wanted of Olli, and as if the man was reading his mind (Aleksi did not even dare to imagine the possibility), he took Aleksi in his hand and helped him over the edge, still throbbing inside him, still as if holding Aleksi's heart in his hands instead of his spilling cock.

Then, suddenly, the sea inside Aleksi was as calm as the one under the ice on which they had stood earlier that day, with Olli's hands inside his pockets and Aleksi's everything in Olli's gaze. He had no choice but to hope Olli felt the same when he lay next to Aleksi on the narrow mattress, hand on his stomach and mouth on his neck, and Aleksi might have fallen asleep there, if all too soon Olli had not sat up without saying a word (even if the kiss he left on Aleksi's shoulder said more than any word that could've fallen from between Olli's perfect lips).

He stopped to look at Aleksi by the door on his way out, but his expression was unreadable. Maybe it was the darkness of the room, maybe it was something else. Aleksi could not bring himself to ponder between options.

(He did anyway.)

~*~

Aleksi couldn't sleep, but that was the smallest of his problems.