hi!! found ur fics through a server rec and was wondering if u have thoughts on ur reverse slave fanfic?? i loved the story was curious to know more (why did u pick that theme and will u ever write something similar again??)
hi!! THANK YOU FOR YOUR KIND WORDS ILY 🥺 I love that fic and I absolutely do have thoughts!! I picked that theme bc im generally just really into the role reversal concept for them, I find it really interesting and just, like, obvious? it just feels so there and its rarely been done in the fandom so that fic was me trying my hand at it. I was also really interested in writing a fic where revenge is absolutely, singularly laurents number one priority. I really liked the idea of him just having this tunnel vision goal where he's willing to do absolutely anything and sacrifice anything to avenge his brother and kill damen, and where unlike in the books theres no plot and evolution that throws him off track and makes him see things differently, its just laurent in revenge mode. also, I just find the aspect of turning your body and your arousal against you dumb hot lmao especially when its with someone you literally hate, so combine those 3 and throw in some trauma and you have my role reversal fic :)
I dont know if ill ever write something similar again :( ive gotten tons of prompt requests and I have a lot of thoughts on this world, but truly I struggle to write anything at all anymore + for my focus to hold. I have a lot of wips that are all pretty different from the stuff I used to write and are hella fun but literally only god knows if they'll ever go anywhere.
anyways thank you so much for this!! lmk if you're interested in the thoughts I had for where this au progressed, I'd be happy to discuss it more 💗
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Dogstock are typical of what are often deemed the ‘evil’ races in many other fantasy works. They were created by some higher force to be slaves, they are carnivorous by nature, they resemble animals other than human in dentition and build. They growl and bite and walk behind.
The Uhasr (a dogstock culture) are descendants of such slave-infantry that was abandoned when the empire that used them to capture the steppes decided the land wasn’t so profitable after all, and more pressing matters drew their attention elsewhere. Like tools left spent on the ground, the unneeded, excess dogstock were left to survive on their own in Hochkiskuph. The native peoples, of course, did not welcome them any more, or see them any less as oppressors when the hand released the lead. To the Hochkiskuph peoples, the Uhasr are a predatory ghost, an echo that consumes them even in absentia. To the Uhasr, one human is much like another, differing in number and equipment, but never in essence. Uhasr are a species of wild animal with a human face. Humans are prey on two legs. Humans smoke and poison uncovered dens on principle, Uhasr abduct and consume men and women and children all the same.
A common trend I have noticed in media which aims to humanize monsters, is that it often relies on passivity. Humanity is contingent upon kindness. The monster that is A Person only so long as they are a harmless thing at heart, something which can be understood and befriended. Their violence is reluctant, their hearts noble. Grace is a concession to the dominated. Only the toothless beast, declawed and pinioned and caged, is one which has earned its personhood. The ontological enemy supersedes the ontological man.
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The sound of a body throwing itself onto one of the infirmary cots echoed through the mostly empty room, followed closely behind with a dramatic, but melodic sigh. “Can I say something mean?”
“Probably not in front of the baby.”
Will groaned, looking up from his pile of patient reports he had been sorting for the past… year. “I hardly think eleven still counts as being a baby.”
Lee, who had been refilling first aid kits for the past two hours, contemplated this for a moment. “Maybe, but that’s besides the point. I’m six years older than you. You’ll always be a baby.”
“I’m going to say something mean. Will, cover your ears.”
“I’m not covering my ears, Taylor. Unlike you, I’m working right now and I need my hands.”
“Oh,” Taylor dragged, a taunt evident in her voice, "someone's grumpy.”
“He’s mad I put him on infirmary duty during arts and crafts.”
“Will, you aren’t good at arts and crafts.” Lee slapped her arm. “And you like working in the infirmary, you are constantly taking my shifts. It’s why I love you.”
Lee slapped her arm again. “Taylor, what the heck.”
Taylor groaned, “Fuck. Just say fuck. I’m begging you.”
“That’s besides the point. I had it with Cecil. We were going to finish our board game.” Will turned to Lee, pointing an accusing finger at him, “You knew this.”
Lee let out a long-suffering sigh and Will almost felt bad for causing a fuss, but really, Lee brought this upon himself. “Taylor, stop pawning off your shifts to Will. Will, stop letting Taylor’s pawn off her shifts to you. Also: I’m sorry about arts and crafts. The last few days have been hectic and I needed your help. I’ll make sure to not schedule you over arts and crafts next week.”
“I’m going to be home next week! Mama is picking me up, remember?”
Lee had the decency to look ashamed when he said, “Heck. I forgot. I’m sorry, Will.”
Taylor got up from her self-designated cot and walked over to Will, ruffling his hair once she was close enough. “I’ll take over the rest of your shift, buddy. You go have fun.”
Will shook his head, “No, it’s okay. I’m already here. Arts and crafts is half-way done anyway. We wouldn’t be able to finish.”
“If you’re sure,” Taylor sighed as she pressed a kiss to his forehead and Will let out a cry of protest because he could feel the lipstick stain there. He tried rubbing it away with his fingers but by the look on Lee’s face and the snickers Taylor was making behind him, he only made it worse.
Lee graciously handed Will a wipe before glaring at their sister. “Taylor, what are you even doing here?”
“I think I made that pretty obvious when I threw myself onto a bed and stated I was gonna say something mean. I came to gossip.”
“You should be at archery right now.”
“Mike was being a piss-baby. He wouldn’t let Josh and I try to hit one another. What’s the point of being in advanced archery if you can’t shoot at your brother? Moving targets!”
“So you left?”
“Yep. I found Silena and she offered to do my nails before I came by.”
Lee pinched the bridge of his nose in a way that resembled an old man at the end of his rope. Will suppressed a giggle at his brother’s anguish as Lee said, “You can’t do that.”
“Do what? My nails?”
“Leave Michael like that.”
“Why? He’s not in charge of me.”
“But I am. And he’s my second in command, so yes he is.”
Taylor groaned, flopping back onto her cot. “One, he’s like three weeks older than me, unfair. And two, none of that is important right now. What is important is that our father was here and didn’t say hi to any of us. Who does that?”
“Our father, apparently.”
Taylor flipped Lee off, showing off her new manicure. It was baby pink, like her lipstick, with a little sun in the center. “He gives those kids a ride, none of them his, and has the audacity to leave before saying hi? Hell, Will over here has never met him. He has time to bring a group of kids to camp, but can’t spare a lousy minute to check in on us? And I can’t say this to Michael or he’ll claim I’m “on the other side”.” Taylor sighed, a faraway look in her eyes. Will had only seen this look on her face a few times before: every time Luke was mentioned. “I’m just tired of feeling abandoned and I’m sick of feeling like it’s bad to think that.”
Lee stepped towards her, a soft, “Tay–” passing through his lips, before she sat up and shook herself out of her stupor.
“Instead of saying hi, he just causes chaos and disappears! He brings Percy back, which is never a good sign. Thalia is driving the sun chariot, and crashes it! Oh, and he brought that new weird kid that keeps bombarding everyone with questions.”
Will saw through the change of topic, and Lee clearly had to as well, but he allowed it to happen. He slapped her on the arm for the third time, “He’s not weird. He’s, like, eight. The kid is just excited. You were excited about camp once upon a time.”
Taylor turned to Will, jerking her head at Lee, “I think he’s finally lost it. When have I ever been excited by anything ever?”
Will grinned, “Yesterday, you beat Madi at Josh’s song quiz and you danced around the cabin for ten minutes.”
Taylor gasped loud and dramatic, clutching at her chest as she fell back onto her cot, chestnut hair falling all over her face in her fall. “William! How dare you accuse me of such things!”
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don't touch that dial!
or;
the wandavision au
(ronance edition!)
Robin wakes up with Nancy Wheeler in her house. Her house. Not her parents. Hers.
Nancy’s in the kitchen, in a dress and hair curled and pinned back in a way that Robin has never seen, already making a cup of tea (Robin hates coffee, but she doesn’t remember telling Nancy that…) and greets her with a, “Hi, Robbie,” and a quick kiss on the cheek.
Robin freezes. Her stomach flip-flops and she feels her face warm and she’s not totally sure how to react without shattering whatever this is. So she answers with a weak, “Hi.”
Somewhere in the back of her mind, something screams THIS ISN’T REAL.
Duh. She gathered that already. But the problem is it’s not her voice in her skull telling her this. She doesn’t know who it is, or why they’re telling her information that she already knows.
The biggest worry in her mind is that this isn’t her Nancy. Her Nancy, the real Nancy, would be fighting and kicking and screaming because this is not the life that Nancy wanted. Robin would know too, in-between their world saving adventures, Nancy told her what her future looked like, and being a ‘50s housewife was not one of them.
Robin hates the ‘50s. She hates the way her hair is done and she hates the dress she’s been shoved into and she hates the canned laughter (seriously, can anyone else hear that?) and—
“Robin?”
“Yes, dear?” Robin answers without thinking, going along with whatever this illusion wants.
Nancy’s frowns a moment, breaking the tight smile she had on her face, and briefly Robin wonders whether she’s aware of their current predicament, too. If Nancy’s aware like she is, and just simply playing along—just better at hiding it. It’s too risky though to outright ask her, so for now she’s just going to have to read her newspaper (that doesn’t have any articles written by Nancy—seriously?) and find a way to tune out that damned laugh track.
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