#this is me expressing my frustration and confusion because writing fanfiction is hard when the timeline has been blurred by fanfiction and

[treacherousrift]

The supernatural fandom is so full of rich absolutely unhinged history. So much so that I’ll sit there and ask “did that actually happen or did I read that in a fanfiction or on a tumblr post about homoerotic biblically accurate angels?” we are SO beyond canon

[marvelmaniac715]

It’s another Kyle and Andy fic with a brief touch of Chucky and Glenda! I’ve recently discovered that I love exploring that sibling bond between Andy and Kyle, so to tide myself over until Season 3 which will (hopefully) contain more canon interactions between the two, I’ve decided to write another fanfiction. It’s set in that hideout from Season Two because that’s the only place I can think of where believable offscreen interactions could take place.

————————————————————-

Chucky, in a true example of his twisted sense of humour, had insisted upon himself, Glenda and Kyle having what he referred to as a ‘family dinner’. There wasn’t much food available, but under threat of being subjected to lengthy descriptions of Andy’s torture, Kyle had put together a reasonably decent meal for three.

Poor Glenda had tried valiantly to get some kind of conversation going ever since the dinner started. But everything they said was met with dismissive grunts and one word answers, occasionally interspersed with an uninterested ‘that’s nice’. But when Glenda mentioned that they wanted to become a model, Chucky abruptly looked up from his plate and said:

“No child of mine is modelling for Playboy.”

Glenda looked startled at this and immediately responded:

“I wasn’t thinking Playboy specifically, there’s a lot of adverts and magazines that need models. I’m hoping to model for campaigns that raise awareness for topics like the environment-‘

“You’re not doing magazines, no way. To be frank with you, a magazine is what I used in order to conceive you and your twin the second time around, and I don’t feel like associating my kid with the thing that brought them into existence in the first place.”

Glenda cringed at this, with their prospective future occupation now twisted into something disgusting. They looked to Kyle for support, who offered them a reassuring (if heavily awkward) shoulder pat. Silence descended upon the table, broken by the soft scraping of cutlery against semi-broken plates. Seeing that things were now awkward, Chucky cleared his throat and said:

“Since modelling is a no-go, perhaps you should consider other options? Just to throw it out there, it would be nice to have somebody join the family business…”

Glenda snorted and replied:

“And what would that be?”

Chucky simply smirked and responded:

“Waste management.”

Glenda looked confused for a moment, then the realisation of what that term meant clicked in their brain and they hurriedly shook their head, a horrified expression on their face as they quickly explained:

“No, Glen’s a pacifist, they’d hate it if-‘

Chucky snorted and said:

“Oh, I gave up on that wimp years ago, but I’m holding out hope for you. You showed real promise when you were six.”

Glenda’s face paled as they rose from the table, politely excusing themself as they stormed away from the table, frustrated tears forming in their eyes. As they left, Chucky called after them:

“Fine, have your little tantrum! Come talk to me when you’re ready to have a mature adult conversation!”

Kyle should have let it go, but instead, she scoffed and told Chucky:

“Do you set out to be an awful parent or do you genuinely not know how bad you are at this?”

Chucky seemed genuinely confused by the question as he simply shrugged before sneering:

“You don’t even have a kid, how would you know how to be a parent?”

Kyle had had enough of Chucky’s company by now, so she stood up from the table and left, not even making a polite excuse like Glenda had done. But as she went to bed that night, she thought about what Chucky had said, about her not having a kid, and a dozen memories suddenly came back to her…

————————————————————-

Twelve year old Andy sighed in frustration as he stared down at his algebra work. Kyle had left him to it for about half an hour now, but it was just so hard. No matter how he looked at it, he couldn’t figure out the answers. He’d faced many challenges in his life, but out of all of the horrible things he’d faced, this was the hardest. Numbers didn’t belong in math, they just didn’t. He knew that Kyle just wanted him to study and get his GED so he could go to college, but it didn’t mean that he had to be happy about it.

As if sensing Andy’s distress, Kyle suddenly entered the room carrying a tray that contained two cups of store bought lemonade. When she noticed Andy slumped over at his desk, she cleared his throat before tapping him on the shoulder. She’d realised over the years that if she didn’t announce her presence when she entered a room, Andy would freak out, because he couldn’t handle being surprised like that after years dealing with… a certain redhead.

When Andy looked up at her, Kyle smiled and said:

“Hey, I brought lemonade. Would you like some? Might be a good idea to take a break.”

Andy smiled gratefully and reached out his hands to grab the lemonade, but then Kyle caught sight of his empty worksheet and let out a sigh of her own, placing the lemonade on a different table. Andy frowned at this and tried to stand up, only for Kyle to gently push him back down and shake her head.

“Algebra really isn’t your strong suit, huh? Need some help?”

Andy nodded as Kyle knelt down beside him, groaning about the strain on her knees as she did so. Once she could properly look at the work, Kyle gave Andy a sympathetic smile and whispered in an almost embarrassed tone:

“I’m not too good at it either, but it’s an important skill to learn, so how about we do it together?”

With an agreement made, both Kyle and Andy settled into a comfortable rhythm of bemoaning the pointlessness of the work in front of them, occasionally interrupting themselves with sips of lemonade from the drinks that Kyle had brought over after finally giving in due to thirst.

————————————————————-

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Andy, happy birthday to you!”

Kyle’s singing was off key yet sincere as she held up a chocolate cupcake with a faintly flickering ‘13’ candle resting on top of it. She had a shiny green party hat on her head, held in place by a mildly uncomfortable white string under her chin and around her ears. Andy wore a similar hat, except his was gold because he was the birthday boy.

Not many things made Andy smile these days (Kyle wished she could think of it as teen angst, but she knew and understood the reasoning behind his melancholy) but the sight of a birthday cake after years of not celebrating due to fear of being discovered made the boy’s lips pull themselves upwards into a slight smile.

Kyle placed the cupcake in Andy’s hands and instructed him to make a wish, but all Andy said in response (frowning again) was:

“I don’t have anything to wish for.”

The party atmosphere immediately vanished as Kyle wrapped her arms around Andy’s bony shoulders (despite her best efforts to find food, there wasn’t much available and Andy refused to eat saying that he needed to be ready in case… a certain someone came back). It didn’t seem right for Andy to be so upset on his birthday, he’d seemed so excited for it. So Kyle tried to lift his spirits as she suggested an idea for a wish.

“You could wish for world peace. Or, perhaps you could wish for a certain three foot monster to leave us alone? I don’t want to bring the mood down, but I can tell you’re thinking about him, I can understand that this day is particularly hard for you.”

Tears welled up in Andy’s eyes as he nodded, bottom lip slightly quivering.

“It’s all my fault, Kyle! I just wanted a birthday present but I made Aunt Maggie die! Not to mention the Simpson family, and so many other people! I should have just been happy with what my mom initially got me.”

Ah, so he was feeling guilty again. Kyle had tried many times to reassure Andy that none of this was his fault, but he didn’t seem to believe that was true. Of course a birthday would set his anxiety off again, Kyle never felt great on the anniversary of the day that Chucky first entered her life, but she was able to balance that guilt with joy because that was also around the time that she first met Andy. 

Kyle couldn’t promise Andy that Chucky wouldn’t return, but she could offer him some form of comfort.

“Andy, you beat him. That monster tried to kill us- tried to kill you a dozen times. But you outsmarted him every time. You watched him burn in your own fireplace when you were six, you are the bravest person I know. Besides, no offence, there’s no way that Chucky would want to possess a teenager, all of those hormones would freak him out! Also, you aren’t responsible for anything he did, so don’t beat yourself up over it, okay kid?”

Andy no longer looked like he was about to cry, but he wasn’t fully happy yet, so Kyle decided to reveal the big birthday surprise.

“And if that doesn’t cheer you up, I arranged a phone call with your mom for this evening before bed.”

The thirteen year old cracked a smile at this, and Kyle sighed in relief.

————————————————————-

Andy hadn’t called her in three weeks. Usually that would be fine, he was a smart, tough guy, he could take care of himself (could he?) but the last time Kyle had received a phone call from him, he’d seemed… on edge, like there was something he wasn’t telling her. That made Kyle feel uneasy, so she decided to break the silence and reach out. Surprisingly, Andy picked up after the very first ring, as if he was eager for someone to talk to.

“Kyle, hi! How’ve you been, I haven’t heard from you in a while.”

“You know me, I’m fine, but how are you? What’s your apartment like? Oh, and didn’t you go on a date last week? How did that go?”

“The apartment’s fine, and the date… not as great. She googled me. They all do.”

“Oh, Andy, I’m so sorry. Was she put off by all those untrue articles that called you insane?”

“Yep.”

“You should sue for defamation, it could win you a massive mansion like we always dreamed about when you were a kid. Remember all those times we’d talk about having a dozen swimming pools? I distinctly remember that you wanted a stable with a black horse called-‘

“Midnight, yeah, I remember that.”

It was nice to catch up with Andy, but Kyle still had concerns about his well-being.

“Andy, are you doing alright? You didn’t call for three weeks, are you taking care of yourself?”

“Kyle, I’m fine.”

“Do you still have a job? Is your position at the restaurant still going well?”

“I may have… gotten fired for mental instability. I had a panic attack because I saw a toddler with red hair. From behind they looked just like… I’m sure you can figure it out.”

This filled Kyle with panic, how was he affording to live?!

“Are you still eating enough? As a matter of fact, are you eating at all? I know you can sometimes neglect that when you’re anxious but it’s a human need, you can’t be skipping meals-‘

“Kyle, I ate a lasagna like twenty minutes ago. I’m having sushi tonight if you wanna come over for dinner. Once again, I am absolutely fine.”

Kyle let out a relieved sigh, quickly checking her calendar to make sure she was free for tonight. She owned her own business, she didn’t need to meet any deadlines and she set her own hours. Besides, she didn’t have many friends, so she was absolutely free for tonight.

“I’m glad to hear you’re doing okay, sure, I’ll come over. Is 5 o’clock okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you at five.”

“Before I go, are you getting at least ten minutes of sunlight a day? I know it’s silly, but you have to take in some vitamin c.”

Andy jokingly sighed on the other end of the line, and Kyle could imagine that he was rolling his eyes. He went to respond, probably another ‘I’m fine’, but before he could, he was cut off by the sound of a man screaming in the background. That made Kyle jump, and she hurriedly asked:

“What was that?”

Andy took a moment to respond, but when he did his voice was slightly nervous and shaky.

“Oh, I’m watching a horror movie on the tv. Yeah… that’s it.”

Kyle wasn’t convinced, but she was coming to his house for dinner later, so she would be able to confront him in person.

“Okay, if you say so… I think we should have a talk about what you’ll do for employment when I get there. I know you have trauma, we both do, but I want to make sure that you’re financially stable. Perhaps I could set you up with a role at my company? We’re in a wonderful modern age where people can work from home and attend meetings over Skype, would that be better for you? You wouldn’t even have to do much, I could make you my assistant and just have you order me stuff online.”

Andy didn’t respond for a few seconds, and Kyle almost thought he’d hung up before he quietly said:

“Yeah, we can talk about it for sure. Speaking of your work, aren’t you really busy at the moment? You shouldn’t be wasting valuable time calling me, I’m sure you have lots of responsibilities as the big boss.”

“Andy, I’ll always have time for you, you know that right? Besides, who else would I get to nag?”

Andy and Kyle shared a laugh before they decided it was time to say goodbye. But before they both hung up, Andy quickly added:

“Kyle? I know I come off kinda cold, but I just wanna say that I love you.”

“I love you too, baby brother.”

“I’m not that much younger-‘

“Can’t hear you, bad connection!”

————————————————————-

Back in the present day, Kyle blinked in surprise. She’d been lost in her memories for a good two hours now, and it was well and truly time for bed. As she closed her eyes, she thought one more time about what Chucky said, which was the longest amount of time she’d ever thought about the things that asshole said. It was true, Kyle didn’t have a kid, she had an Andy, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

[coffeedrgn87]

2023: Notes On Writing

It’s the 1st of December today, which means that 2023 is officially on its way out. 30 days left before 2024 takes over.

This post is me choosing to reflect on the writing I did throughout 2023, and it saddens me to realise that I didn’t do much writing at all. I had a quick glance at my AO3 stats and they tell me that my word count for the year stands at 96,633, spread out over six stories. One of those is an ongoing multi-chapter sequel to a series I’ve been writing on for a while.

While some may say that just under 97K is quite the achievement for 11 months, to me it feels like peanuts. Especially when I compare it to the nearly 518K words I wrote in 2022. This made me curious and interestingly, in 2021 I only wrote a little under 100K while I finished 2020 with 325K under my belt. 2019 was apparently my most prolific year with record-breaking 863K words. Even 2018, which marks the year I returned to writing (after an almost 7-year-long hiatus), beats 2023 by a whooping 50K (according to AO3 I published just under 149K in 2018).

Now, I know that numbers shouldn’t matter and that it should always be quality over quantity, but for someone who enjoys writing immensely, 97K feels like nothing. Granted, 2023 wasn’t the easiest year. A lot of big things happened for me this year and a lot of those things took a lot of time, required focus, and drained me mentally and physically.

Having said that, throughout the year there have been plenty of moments where I desperately wanted to write but didn’t have the energy to actually follow through. Those moments still hang about. I don’t really want them to, mainly because I do have a couple of good ideas, but also because the longer I feel this way, the harder it gets to give myself a good kick up the arse. I seem to be floating in a world between inspiration and writer’s block, and while I’m all for breaking the binary, I’d much rather stick around with my pals Inspiration and Muse.

If I’m being bluntly honest, when it comes to writing fanfiction the spark isn’t quite there any more. I wrote a lot of stories for the Harry Potter fandom, and I love the characters to bits (but also fuck you, JKR you absolute TERF!), but these days, I find it hard to write them. I’ve never felt part of the fandom, never even felt welcome, but I always carried on writing while simultaneously trying my hardest not to think too much about it. Not the easiest thing to do when you battle anxiety, are a complete hermit, get easily overwhelmed in group chats, and don’t have the best track record when it comes to confidence. Add to that that I’m far more likely to receive hate for my Harry Potter works, and what you’ve got is a slowly fraying rope.

Luckily, I was able to find solace in the Captive Prince fandom. Although, I did go into a tailspin just after finishing the trilogy. I questioned all my writing, was seconds away from deleting all my published works, and seriously considered never again using a keyboard for the express purpose of creating a fictional piece of writing.

That tailspin was short-lived though, and instead of following through on this mad idea of giving up writing altogether, I channelled all my fear, frustration, confusion, and anxiety into propelling my writing forward. I created a couple of works that gave me immense joy and propelled me forward, boosting my confidence. It wasn’t as though I was getting a ton of hits and a flood of comments, but there was something about those creations that drew me in in a way my older works never did and still don’t.

Personally, I feel like my writing has improved vastly over the last two years, and although it won’t ever be perfect (there’s no such thing!), I finally reached a stage where I am a different kind of proud. I want to nurture that pride, encourage it to grow, but I am seriously wondering whether writing fanfiction is going to give me that opportunity. I still enjoy penning the one or other short story, but the more I think about it, the fonder I become of the idea of devoting 2024 to the creation of a book. I want to write a queer, kinky, wholesome love story. I want to write something that represents the various parts that make me who I am. I’m still sceptical about the whole thing and my skills, but I feel like I’ve got to at least try. I mean, I don’t necessarily have to write the book with the intention of getting it published or self-publishing it, but I sense that this is the direction into which I’ve got to stretch my wings.

I’m not going to make it a resolution for the new year, that would be an idiotic idea, but I reckon it’s high tide for me to finally tick off an item that’s been sitting on my bucket list, catching dust, since I was an impressionable teen.

[thehipstersfreaked]

Health update: I now have another therapist who is referring me to a psychiatrist who specializes in autism and adhd! The therapist looked over my autism evidence and spoke to me over a few sessions and recently said I waited long enough for help with the autism. I think that means she thinks I have it which is a relief because I was very nervous. I don’t really know what’s going on, I never do but my friend says this is definitely good but the anxiety™️ is always thriving in me. The psychiatrist is coming back in July so I have to wait but I’m happy I’m going to get help soon! My functionality has not been there lately but I’m working hard to finish my fic fabric and keep the daily prompts flowing out each week! It’s been difficult but it’s such a relief to have a medical professional actually believe your life and be like it’s realistic. I don’t think anyone (unless you’ve read my teenage fanfiction) knows how hard it’s been for me to learn how to communicate correctly on my own. I have tried really hard with the help of my friend, Timothy, to learn how to use the correct words, form more coherent sentences, not excessively talk in the third person, and understand some context. I’ve felt lost in my brain my whole life. It’s so funny because like this whole journey so far no one’s believed that iteration of me existed. Everyone’s always like well your writing doesn’t showcase that and it’s like yeah because I worked really hard for years!!! I’ve been trying to talk to everyone and tell you what I’m thinking! I want to be understood, please just understand me. And my writing doesn’t translate well into my actual verbal functionality. Sometimes I feel like the only way I can communicate with people is via story. It’s the only way I can tell you what I think and feel which is way harder than I can put into words because I always want to say so much more but I don’t know how to write it down. Communication is difficult. I think people take for granted the feeling of being understood. To just say, “I think it’s a really nice day.” And everyone who hears you think oh wow they think it’s a really nice day. Instead of saying, “It’s a day.” and you’re actually like inside oh the excitement cause the leaves are so green! I love you leaves! I wonder if you are happy today because the wind is making you dance. And you’re just staring at the leaves for hours because you think they’re the only thing that makes sense in this world. But to an outsider, you just said it’s a day so they for some reason don’t think you aren’t happy about the day and their also confused by your expression which you practiced for hours so you could make a smile and be one of them but your smile is the wrong smile and actually a frown or an angry grin or something because you don’t actually know the correct way to move your face. And then you find out your tone isn’t light or airy but the wrong tone and they think you’re unhappy but you’re the happiest when you see the tree because the tree is the only one who understands you and you’ve written hundreds of stories of your adventures together in your head. And this tree is like your best friend in the entire world but no one will understand the depth of your friendship and how that tree is the only one who just gets you. Inside, you’re just frustrated because you’re like who is going to tell this tree’s story my bestie deserves a saga, a saga I say. But anyway, yeah people underestimate how hard it is to not be understood so hopefully I’ll get help so everyone can understand how amazing trees are. Anyway, I really like looking at trees and plants, oh, and flowers too. Vegetation is nice. Sigh. But hopefully I get actual help soon!

[redrosesartcabin]

So yeah, I wrote the thing based on an anon message for @itsme-star

I made it a Barley x (female) reader (based on my self insert character) fanfic ‘cause I had to be a little self indulgent lmao

I hope you enjoy it! It turned out longer than I had planned xD

——————————————————

The double-decker couch

Barley x (female) reader fanfiction

———

Around three months ago:

Y/n’s boyfriend, Barley Lightfoot, had knocked on her window… with small stones… in the middle of the night:

At first her ear just twitched and the noise had mashed with the dream she was having, but the more the noise repeated, the more her consciousness felt pulled into the physical realm again, and with a groan, she had to face the reality that the noise would not stop until she got up (she already had a suspicion as to who was causing the noise).

With a heavy sigh, y/n forced herself from under her comfortable blanket, before ripping the window open.

‘Of course it’s him’, she thought, looking down at Barley as he waved his hands up at her, somehow wide awake.

‘How much energy can a person have?’, she asked herself, before she motioned with her hands, that she’d come outside.

“What in the world are you doing here?”, she asked as she arrived, whisper-yelling at him.

“Well you know how it is my lady: sometimes one just drives around at night after finishing a campaign of quests of yore and sees the poster of a double-decker bus and then one might think: ‘Wouldn’t it be cool if one could have a couch after that structure?’ After having had thought about a new couch for a while and ‘wouldn’t it be cool, if one might be able to build that with their girlfriend?’”

“I can’t say I relate, though I am impressed by one having the idea”, she said, deliberately accentuating the word ‘one’, as she couldn’t now but smile at her beautiful dork, “And I have to say I love the idea, though I still have to decide whether it was worth waking me up at three a.m… but for now I’ll just say yes, because I love you too much to be mad at you for this”

“I know: I’m irresistible”, he winked, pulling her closer to him and engaging her in a sickeningly romantic kiss.

“As nice as this is, I would still like to catch up on some sleep. We’ll write later and you tell when we should start building”

“I actually thought… you know… that maybe now-”

“Don’t push it”

“Right”

Now:

It hadn’t been easy. First they had to scavenge several junkyards for old couches (because let’s be real: They were both poor college students and buying material or new couches just was too expensive), who weren’t completely busted. Then they had to figure out how to build the thing.

After studying art for a while, where y/n had to do a bunch of installation projects, she had gotten significantly better at building things with woods and such, though she still wasn’t an expert. And whilst Barley also got crafty from time to time, he also wasn’t a master.

But somehow, after sweat, and even a couple of tears after y/n once got her hand stuck under one of the couches, they had finished it: The double decker couch.

“This-”, Barley said, pointing his finger at it, “This is beautiful”.

It was a yellow and a green couch, connected through metal poles and stabilized with old wood planks with two ladders placed on top of it and just enough space between the couches, so that one could sit up straight. It sort of looked like a bunk bed, but with couches.

“It is. It really is”, y/n agreed, looking at her bandaged hand, “totally worth busting my hand”

“Totally worth going through every junkyard in the city”, Barley added.

“Totally worth being awake once for 48 hours”, she added as well.

“This should be awarded some kind of price… maybe I’d also just be happy for some money for a wellness weekend ‘cause my back could really need a nice massage”, Barley groaned, touching the small of his back.

“Hard agree”

They stayed standing there for a while, looking at it, before y/n occurred a question that should’ve occurred to her much sooner.

“So-uhm-”, she started, “what do we actually do with it now?”, she asked

“Sit on it of course. You sit below and I above so I can feed you grapes like you’re a roman emperor”, Barley explained matter of factly.

“That sounds lovely darling but that’s not what I mean”

“What seems to be the issue then?”he asked, a little frustrated. What could she possibly have to say now? After so much hard work?

“I mean… where do we put it?”, she asked with a sincere expression which immediately washed away his annoyance, “because it certainly won’t stay in my parents basement”, she stated.

“It’s certainly more worthy than this old, dusty room with your family's junk. And also because this place is crawling with bugs that I will have to remove every time because you’ll just screech and run away until it magically disappears”

“Hey!”, y/n interjected

“It's true!”

“Ok yeah fair enough, though seriously- where? I also can bet’ya we can’t put it anywhere in our homes either. It probably barely fit under the ceiling”

“Yeah no”

A moment of contemplative silence spread across them.

After a while, Barleys thoughts wandered to the night where he had gotten the idea. He thought about his beloved car-

‘OH. MY. GOD. That’s it!’, he thought to himself.

“I got it!”, he then yelled excitedly, his face contorted into one of the most adorable expressions y/n had ever seen anyone wear. No matter what it would be: She couldn’t but say yes to that smile.

Still she asked, “What’ya got?”

“You know how I got my idea from a poster with a double-decker bus?”, he asked her, still smiling like he had won the lottery

“Yes?”

“And you know how I have a van, right?”

“No”, she answered sarcastically, “I know absolutely nothing about your most prized possession of a van that you called Guenivere the second after you sacrificed your first Guenivere when on a quest-”

“Ok I got the gist”, he chuckled, “but ok hear this: Since I have this wonderful van, this wonderful BIG van-”

“Wait a minute: You really want to put the couch in-”, she interrupted as she realized what he was saying, but got immediately interrupted back as he realized she had caught on

“Yes! I absolutely am”

“Dear lord… but ok I have no better idea, let’s do it”

“YES”

“Barley I am telling you, this is NOT working”, y/n huffed as she let her side of the construction gently land on the ground once again.

“Come on, just one more time!”, Barley pleaded.

“You’ve been saying ‘just one more time’ for an hour!”, she argued, “there is no way around: this just doesn’t fit inside the van. You underestimated Guenivere”

“Hey! There is no underestimating Guenivere! It’s not her fault”, he pouted.

“Ok ok ok... Sorry Gueni”, y/n said, giving the car a sincere pat on one of the back doors. She has gotten used to treating the car similar to a pet, “but seriously: We’ve been trying this at every angle, and as cool as Guenivere is, she can’t magically shapeshift”

“Magically shapeshift”, Barely repeated her last words, suddenly deep in thought, before an “ohhhh”, sound escaped him, “wait here my lady, I’ll be back in a sec”

“O...k”, she said, a little confused.

Five minutes later, she saw Ian storm out of his house, his hands clenched around his magic staff, with Barley closely behind him. “WHAT'S THE EMERGENCY?”Ian yelled as he came to a hold, which caused his brother to almost crash into him.

“I need you to make Guenivere big enough so that our self made double-decker couch fits into her”, Barely explained, breathing as though he had just run from death.

For a moment nobody said anything to that before Ian and y/n both shouted

“WHAT?”,at the same time.

“So much for an emergency”, Ian also mumbled, a little annoyed at his brother's antics.

“I mean: If she’s too small, then we can just make her bigger, right?”

“Technically yes but I think you didn’t consider a very small, tiny detail”, Ian commented.

“And what would that be?”, Barley asked irritated, not understanding what the issue was.

“You are aware as a supposed magic expert, that I can’t only enlarge the trunk, right? I would have to make the entire car big, and that would lead-”

“-to the entire street being filled with the car”, y/n finished the thought, apologetically laying her hand on Barleys shoulder, “I’m sorry my love. It was a nice thought”

“Dang it”, Barley breathed out, “I was looking forward to make my own uber-van-couch-double-decker-business”

“Hm”, y/n simply hummed. She had known from the beginning it would probably go south, but his enthusiasm had given her hope.

“Sorry Barley”, Ian said quietly, now feeling bad for having been so harsh beforehand , before slowly heading inside again.

Y/n and Barely sat down on the edge of Guenivere’s trunk, tired and disappointed that it all hadn’t turned out like they wanted as they looked at their creation.

Y/n leaned against Barley’s shoulder, lovingly rubbing her cheek against him like a cat (she loved doing that).

After a while Barley decided he had enough of sulking, standing up to go to the front to put on some good old metal (which luckily she enjoyed too).

As he however returned to the trunk, he noticed some ropes laying around.

He had used ropes last time to tie up some of the material he had bought for their project, so they wouldn’t move around- what if though…

“Ok I’ve had enough”, Barley decided, “I WILL have my double-decker-couch-van for more people to ride with me and my buddies and if its the last thing I’m gonna do!”

“Barley, what are you-”, y/n wanted to ask, but as she saw him pick up the ropes from the trunk floor, she understood, “- Are you sure this will work out?”

“Nope”, he answered truthfully, “but I will surely try!”

She was still skeptical, but at the same time she would try anything with him, and if it meant helping him tie a double-decker-couch to the roof of his van.

“If you believe it can be done, I will too”, she smiled, giving him a quick peck on his cheek, “let’s do this!”

It was eight p.m. The sun was almost behind the horizon and the streetlamps threw dodgy looking lights in the middle of the street and kept the corners dark.

But the elven couple, who stood in front of a yellow van with a double-decker couch tied to its roof, couldn't help but see what they had accomplished: Which was accomplishing what, at least the female elf, had thought was impossible… yet again.

“I can’t believe that worked”, Y/n mumbled.

“Told ya”, Barley hushed back.

“Should we drive around? See if anyone is crazy enough to go on a drive?”, she asked.

“You bet we are. And tomorrow… and whenever we can. I’ll be the driver and you the tourist guide.. or maybe some kinda sturdess, after all you’re good lookin’”

“Oh hush”, she giggled, visibly blushing

“And-”, he continued, though not without giving her a good wink after his compliment, “then we’re gonna show the dear people of this town another perspective to life”

“That we can promise”, she laughed, “that we sure can”

[oblivions-dawn]

Oh Hey Look at That a THURSWIP

I was, once again, inevitably, tagged by @nocturnalswarehouse​ and @thequeenofthewinter​ to post my WIP! This is a short 410 words section of a new chapter I’m working on, which is basically a sort of 1/2 rewrite of “Allied” in my fanfiction. I’ve been writing in-depth about the scene with Sorine Jurard when the player goes to recruit her because I think it’s kind of funny. I didn’t give Gunmar this same treatment and now am wondering if I should even though I don’t want to because there won’t be any significant changes from what happens in game, but I’ll keep thinking on it. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

The Breton spun around as her hand raked through her short brown hair in frustration. “I swear I left it right here . . . .” She turned back to the redhead with narrowed eyes. “Do you think mudcrabs might’ve taken it?”

Vigdis momentarily snapped out of her stupor. “I don’t think—”

“I saw one the other day; wouldn’t be surprised if it followed me here.” She looked at the redhead with a pleading expression plastered over her dirtied, sweaty features. “Just look around, will you?”

Vigdis stared at the brunette for a long moment as she considered her options. With a long, exasperated exhale out her nose and a scowl that creased her brows, she began to explore along the shore of the river without so much as a word to the Breton woman. It didn’t take long for her to find a leather sack, half-submerged in the water by a large, leafless tree. She knelt and unclasped it to peek inside—only to find not one, but seven gyros. Her irritation bubbled and frothed as she closed the bag and slung it over one shoulder. She trekked back to the brunette and thrust the back out to her.

“Here,” she offered curtly. “I found it by the river.”

“That’s my satchel! You found it!” she squealed, her eyes wide with gratitude and excitement as she retrieved a single gyro from the bag. “Thank you! It’s not much, but this will help a great deal with some things I’ve been researching here.” “Oh, I almost forgot! I’m Sorine, Sorine Jurard.”

“I know.” Vigdis crossed her arms over her chest. “Isran sent me. He needs your help.”

Sorine’s smile fell, her expression confused. “Isran? Wants me?” She shook her head. “No, you must be mistaken. He made it exceedingly clear—”

“I don’t care about your drama with him,” Vigdis snapped. “We’re up against a very old and powerful vampire clan and he’s insisting that we need your help. Isn’t that enough?”

Sorine flinched, then frowned, clearly unconvinced. “Well, I find it hard to believe he’s changed his mind. He said some very hurtful things to me before I left . . .”

Vigdis closed her eyes with a long, painful groan. She took the bridge of her freckled nose between her index and thumb finger, then gave it a tight squeeze to try to relieve her frustration.

“And I thought Gunmar was a pain in the ass,” the hunter grumbled.

[dinthehottotty]

A Thing About Silver (Part 2)

Summary: You face Din after sleeping with Cobb, partially out of spite and fight with Mando. 

Warnings: Angst, smut, gratitious smut. So much. More creampies. Unprotected sex. This is fanfiction. USE PROTECTION. Slight Dom!Din

A/N: I enjoyed writing this wayyyy too much. Good luck. Also I rushed a little bit towards the end cause I’m tired.

Part 1

Mando was moved on to cleaning his blaster now, still waiting. It made you sick.

Ducking your head, you shuffle through the sand and don't bother to look at him as you approach the little dome. He doesn't say anything as you climb the steps he sits on and wordlessly move toward the building.

Sleep called for you.

Leather snatches your wrist, not delicate at all. "Look at me," he manages. It's got no bite. No edge. It's soft and coaxing. Too sweet for your eager ears because now tears are welling in your eyes again at the shame. Immediately you know the truth of things. There is no illusion that you've truly and sorely fucked up. The worry in his voice twists you apart. Would you ever be able to repair the shot your hurt pride took?

Instead you squeeze your eyes shut and tilt your head back, desperately hoping that he won't insist. But it's Din. "Please, look at me," he begs. The attempt to steel yourself and stand your ground crumbles like the sand in your boots.

"I can't," you manage, voice breaking harshly. "Let me go." You pull your hand away and trudge into the little room he'd rented. The child was long since passed out in his floating crib. There was a tiny kitchenette in the corner, one that had been cleaned but a bowl still sat at the table. Then there was a bed and a sofa. Toward the back sat a door, you assume to the 'fresher.

You can hear Din following behind you, heavy boots making the floors creak. "You should eat something," he tries, voice turning tense but he's still just as soft as before. Instead of listening, you move toward the sofa and sink down on it, the fresh tears hot on your cheeks.

There is a split second between when he moves around and sees the tears, and him reaching for you. "Don't," you rasp.

"Did he hurt you?" He snarls, despite his gentleness of his hands flutter over you.

"No," you snap back at him. Finally glaring deep into the visor of his helm. It lasts only a moment. "No, Din, he didn't do anything wrong." You sniffle and fixate on a spot on the wall, then stop fighting the urge and curl in on yourself. How could you sit here and feel sorry for yourself when you'd ruined everything so easily. All for a quick fuck. (Well, not necessarily quick.) You'd pushed and prodded, always hoping for a different reaction but deep down, you'd always known the truth. Din didn't love you in that way.

He paces across the floor in front of you, very quiet, very anxious. Despite feeling the increasing anxiety from it, you decide to push it down. Your own frustration twisting and tightening like a coil. The air was heavy.

That is until your eyes fall on the floating cradle in the corner. Your heartaches, you weren't just losing Din. The kid would go with him.

You had two options. This was an ugly sore that neither of you could ignore. Should you try to resolve it now? Best case, you ride out this wave of shame and stick with Din and the child. They were home to you, but you'd be subjected to the truth that Din would never love you in this way. Trust was probably broken and until you both had mended from the hurt of the situation, the ship couldn't sail smoothly. You'd have to learn to not love Din in that manner, if that was possible. You fear that it would make you bitter. How long would you be staying with Din? Until the kid was gone? Would he be okay after he'd delivered him? Should you both spend the next few nights thinking and settling on your stupidity or would that just encourage further brewing? You didn't know if you could trust yourself to stay level headed or not burst into wails if Din so much as raised his voice.

But you needed it. You need him to scream at you about your recklessness. You needed to be shamed because how could you possibly take Din being this sweet and worried about you. Bile worked it's way up from your stomach, fighting with burning fingertips.

His pacing froze, seeming to watch you with distress, but you couldn't tear your blurred eyes from the levitating bassinette.

"Are you going to leave me?" He asks, his voice much firmer than before.

"I..." You start but slowly trailed off. There were too many words in your head. It was muddled and confused. In the very center of it was the enormous weight of shame and guilt. The utter dread cored from them but gravitating all of the negativity that surrounds your situation. It was tossing you in the oceans of panic, you were drowning. Din's anxiety was driving him to go rigid.

The idea of going to sleep was teasing you. Your eyelids were heavy. What time was it even? It was an empty thought. You wouldn't sleep. Just chasing your tail endlessly.

Din is moving between you and the kid and you realize the possessive tone his voice had carried. The real question was he wanted to ask was 'are you going to try to steal my child?' and he had obviously taken that as a threat. How this must look, you gazing longingly at the sleeping babe in his cradle and not giving the man a true answer.

Your eyes move up the curves of beskar that blocked your view of the little one. More hurt is rising. He wasn't worried you'd leave. He was worried you'd take the wrinkly green baby. Somehow you felt the need to blame the metal that separated him from you. You didn't normally curse the only think that had kept him alive this long, but it seemed to mock you like in Cobb's hut. It spurs a dangerous thought.

If Din wanted to fight, you'd fight.

"Wouldn't you like that? Like me to just walk away?" You hiss, rising off the couch to stare at him. Din's helmet doesn't waver a bit as you close in enough to see the puffiness of your eyes.

"Do you want to walk away?" He snaps back.

"Wouldn't that be easier!" You give a sarcastic laugh. "One of your problems could just walk away! Just say it! Just say you want me to leave you alone!" You shove at his chest weakly.

"Stop," he orders sharply. "You don't know what your talking about."

"Really!? Are you kriffing kidding, Din?"

"You need to eat and go to bed."

"Do you somehow have this sick notion that I'm your kid, too? Because I'm not! I am not a child! I am a hurt, angry, and frustrated adult woman!"

Din places his hands on his hips and towers over you. "Stop putting words in my mouth. Where are you even getting these ideas?"

"You treat me like a kid! I'm trying to show you I'm not one!"

"Well, you're acting worse than one right now!" He snarls through his modulator. You grit your teeth at his response. That one hurt. You knew it was true, the spotchka from tonight had left early tonight. It hadn't been enough to truly get you drunk.

"I have no problem listening to you when you give me a damn reason! Just fucking explain things!"

"I don't want to argue with you." He resolves.

"THERE IT IS!" You nearly screech. "That! You barely give me any scraps! You are so fucking hard to read sometimes and I fucking hate it! All I wanted was you to tell me 'no' tonight but instead you just stared! YOU JUST WATCHED ME WALK AWAY!" Din's visor drops at that. It's not trained on you, but off to the side, down towards the floor. "I COULDN'T EVEN ENJOY IT BECAUSE YOU WERE FUCKING THERE THE WHOLE TIME LIKE SOME DEVIL!" You break, sobbing.

His head twists up. "What?"

"You just stare and mock and-"

"I have never mocked you," he butts quieter than before.

"Why didn't you say 'no'?" You snap, eyes blazing, needing an answer.

He only gives you silence. You squeeze your lips into a hard line in the deafening scream of it. Shaking your head, you twist away. "Fucking great," you mutter to yourself.

A hand reaches tentatively for you, it brushes over the underside of your wrist and onto your palm. "What do you mean I was there?" He asks softly.

"You don't get to do that," you warn him, drawing your hand away again. Normally, you would blissfully sunk into his rare touch but you couldn't shake off the fire that was filling you. Guilt was nagging the back of your mind, knowing you were punishing good behavior. It was fruitless. He didn't want to touch you like that. "You don't get to answers from me while avoiding your own. That's not fair to me!"

Din sighs, turning his head to the side. "I'm... I'm not always good... with words." That one hurts more than you expect to. This man was bound to carve you up and spit you out.

You stop, turning your head towards him. You can see him shift his weight, stepping closer. He's standing right behind you. For the millionth time, you wished that fucking armor wasn't blocking his expressions from you.

"I... don't, just so you know."

"Don't what?"

"Want you to leave."

"Why don't I believe that?" You prod, still feeling antagonistic. Din steps closer, he grasps your arm and turns you. He twists you about so suddenly and forcefully that you're taken by surprise. A gasp leaves you when he suddenly grasps your face.

The air stills as you vibrate with the sudden aggression he's showing. His boots hit hard and heavy. Each step is slow and steady, his helmet only inches from your face that he's tilting up in the borderline painful grip he's got on your face. He's forcing you to walk backwards, supporting your form with the other hand that's gripping your arm. Air is suddenly harder to acquire. The air twisting tightly. "Bruise your cervix?" He prompts lowly. It drags across his tongue, extra ragged. "Use you. Make you feel something." It's not possible for your heart to beat out of your chest but when he's done walking you backwards, you feel like it will.

The air has changed, charged with the electricity of anticipation rather than shame and rage.

"Did Cobb do that?" He asks, nearly whispering. It's not an accusation. You glance towards the bassinette where the kid still sleeps, amazingly.

"I used him," you admit, shame filling you, he doesn't give you the opportunity to dwell on it too long because he's shoving you backwards onto something soft. The bed.

Cue the swell of disbelief. Mando leans down and immediately starts working at your pants, tugging them open effectively. He gathers the edges in his hands just as you remember what is currently leaking from between your thighs. You gasp out, "Din, wait!" much softer than you intend. Your voice failing you in the way you need it to.

Too late. He tugs the fabric down your legs effectively. Once glance tells you enough, he's staring at the mess that is was made between your thighs. "You let him cum in you?" His helm tilts up to your face that you cover with your hands. Your brain is too busy trying to decide if he's awed or offended by the newly reveled information. You try to press your thighs together.

"I'm sorry," you plead between the palms on your face.

Din hooks his hands roughly under your knees and jerks. You're dragged over the bed until your bare ass is seated at the end of the bed and then he pushes your knees up and apart and just... just stares. It's enough of a sight to have you peaking from behind your hands. "Are you sore?"

Fuck, you were supposed to be fighting not... not... well, what even was this? Some kind of slut-shaming? Was it bad that you were this turned on by it. The morbid curiosity was battling the mortification at being examined by the Mandalorian bounty hunter in this manner. His fingers were squeezing and massaging where they rested under your knees, trying to coax an answer from you. "Ah... a little, I suppose."

"Doesn't sound bruised to me."

You gulp.

"Don't move." How could you? You were petrified and incredibly, embarrassingly aroused. He lifts his hands from your legs, leaving you hanging on whatever he decided to torture you with.

The last thing you expect is for those gloves to make their way to his belt and unbuckle it. "I said, 'don't move'," he repeats, pausing in his movements. It's only when he says that you notice you've propped yourself up to get a better view of him. Suddenly bashful, you sink back down to your back. "Open them further," he rumbles lowly. None of his words seem to have any aggression despite his aggressive actions. His town maybe low and he might be ordering you around but there is no real bark to him. It's raspy in a way that you've never heard from him. Drawn out slow in a way that indicates he's in no rush. The balance has you spinning.

But fuck, pulling his pants open and you nearly wheeze when a he palms your forehead, pushing it back into the bed while he reaches within the confides of his clothes. Your left with only a view of the ceiling and his wrist. His bronzed skin peaks out just a hair. "You don't get to look."

"Oh, shit," you breathe, squeezing your eyes shut. What sort of wet dream were you stuck in? There was no way-

Something runs across your most sensitive area, something too thick to be a finger. You gasp and arch as it hits your oversensitive clit right off the bat. A little 'ah' leaves you for only a moment. "It's your eyes," he says and you think you've missed something when he wheezes it out. Then he lines up and slowly, maker, so slowly and completely unhindered, he's breaching you with the cock you've been dreaming of for months. You give a torn moan and arch up, grasping at the sheets. Still it's quiet because of all the things tonight, this is the last thing you want the kid seeing. "Ca-can't speak when... when you look at me." Heat blooms in your chest. He's still pushing deeper. He sinks against your cervix like no one's done before and pushes against it. When his pelvis meets yours, it's stretching you almost painfully. Your cervix is straining at the intrusion. It's lewd how wet it sounds already.

"Din," you sigh.

He gives a shaky groan when you squeeze around him. "Sh-should've told you 'no'," he admits, drawing back. And then he drives back in with force enough to make you cry out, and open further for him. "Ruin you," he murmurs with such a slur you wonder if he's drunk on it. And then his hips start to canter deep and hard. Not fast. Just deep and hard, stretching you beyond what you think you can. You're left mewling and trembling beneath him. "Should go... shove my...," he curses and his hand shifts from your forehead to your throat. "Shove my blaster, ah, kriff, down Vanth's throat."

Wait, he was jealous? Fuck, did that make you clamp down on him.

"Shit, like that?" He rasps out, still like he's whispering to you. "Want you," he promises, lower down so his chest is pinning you to the bed. He's so heavy, but you don't feel like you're breathing anyway. "All the time."

Please, don't let this be another delusion. Please.

"Did-did you just say... say that you saw me... to piss me off?" He urges.

"No," your arms tangle around him, grasping for purchase on his back. "No, I want you so- Kriff! Feels so good - want you so bad, s-saw you the whole time." He shudders in your hold, rolling the cool helmet against your neck as he continued his unhurried pace. He was going to kill you at this rate. "Please," you beg, "Please, Din. F-faster. Need it."

"No, I'm using you," he responds. A hand grips your hip and it's like he doesn't know whether he wants to push you further into the bed or pull you closer.

A familiar feeling rises in you, another orgasm creeping closer. The thought is pushed from your mind as the other hand covers your eyes. The one gripping your hip disappears and then something drops onto the bed. "Don't... don't look." Unmodulated and raw. Din is kissing you then. His mouth wet and hot and welcoming in this inferno of a hut.

He tastes so good and his tongue slips against yours eagerly. You would tear your eyes out if it meant you could feel his soft stubble against your mouth like this. You moan into his mouth and he eats it up with a particularly hard thrust. "Stay," he groans. "Be mine, be mine, be mine, bemine, beminebeminebemine...." he mantras like he can't breathe. His hips are finally moving faster.

"Yours," you promise, "Yours, yours, yours." You've lost your mind, unable to even conjure why you were mad at him in the first place because this sweet haze was too thick to look through and it takes you a moment to realize it’s a slow orgasm releasing. It’s not overwhelming, it’s just hot and sticky. It has you stretching across the sheets. His teeth sink into your neck as you shake below him. He settles down when you begin your own mantra. Instead, he grinds deeply into you. You're only vaguely aware of the way you both grasp and tug each other closer.

It's not long after before he spills himself into you with a string of expletives. "I'm sorry," he whispers against your neck. It's so nice to feel his breath for once.

"Me too." And nothing else seemed to be needed for it. It's not long before he's rocking his hips and spill his own seed out around himself.

You kind of like his beskar in this instance. The room feels too hot and it's cool against you both. Yeah, you could get used to this. Maybe tomorrow you'll remember what you're supposed to be fighting about.

Taglist: 

@lxdyred​, and I promised to tag you in this, Ava, have some iffy smut. @buttercup--bee​

[ceridwyn2]

This may seem like a stupid (and unpopular with some) question, with AO3, is there a way to filter out some writers in search results? I’m doing a search through a particular fandom (no, not stating which one, as I’ve seen it across more than just one fandom) at the moment, and there is a lot of crap there amongst the good gems. I’m picky when I read fanfic 😅 , and a lot of times I don’t have time to wade through hundreds/thousands of stories to look for the good ones.

By the way, this ended up being a lot longer than I originally intended 😂 as I was thinking it through. What I like in the stories I read as follows:

A) Be grammatically correct

B) Spelling correct

C) Sentence & paragraph structure correct. Dialogue for each character in separate paragraphs.

D) Point of View: maintain one person’s point of view either for the whole scene or whole story. Especially important if stories are written in first person (I/My/Me) or second person (You/Them/They). These stories are often harder to write and maintain throughout well. If it’s first person, you’re only writing from one character’s point of view: on how *I* see/hear/experience the things around *me*. *I* don’t/can’t know what the other characters are thinking/feeling other than what *I* see/observe in their behaviour, unless they tell *me* what they think/feel. Writing in second person is equally difficult to maintain unless you’re very skilled at it. You’re writing as though your addressing the reader/person directly, as if you know them personally, intimately (does not need to be sexually) by using *you*. / Example: You love to write; you should do it more often. / If you’re of a certain age and remember the ‘choose your own adventure’ child/young adult books of the 70s-90s, they were in a person point of view.

Majority of fanfiction, and fiction in general is written in third person. Third person is like you’re the audience watching a tv show/film/play/book. You’re a non-active participant of what is happening and cannot affect the direction or outcome of the story. The primary subject of the scene is referred to by their name or rank and their pronoun(s), and is often the first character mentioned at/near beginning of the scene / Example: DCI Cassie Stewart walked into the incident room of her Historic Cases Unit, with a quick glance at her officers before heading into her office. It wasn’t long before her second in command, DS Sunil Khan, or Sunny, as he preferred, wrapped on the glass window pane of her office door. / That scene is dictated from her point of view, how she directs those around her and how those around her interact with her. Had it been slightly different, but same scenario: /DS Sunil Khan looked up as the door to the Historic Cases Unit opened and saw his boss, DCI Stewart, make her way to her office, glancing at the team as she did. Having got some new leads on their current case overnight, Sunny headed towards her office to notify her ahead of the day’s briefing. / This obviously changes whose point of view is the primary for that scene to Sunil.

Third person It allows the writer to explore different perspectives and viewpoints of different characters to move the story forward. However, that being said, to avoid reader confusion, pick one character - a main character, supporting character, or a villain - as the primary character of that scene and stick with their focus/perspective for the duration of a scene/chapter. If you want to express multiple character’s reactions or points of view to a specific same scene (like say a team of detectives coming onto a murder scene) and if it makes sense to do so, you can write the scenes same but different as each character will have their own take on what they saw/perceived/when they entered/exited the scene - but each character that you’re writing about will have a separate section, separated by punctuation marks, above and below the change of perspective. However, that can easily come across as too repetitive for the reader. Might be best to put that in a notes page each scene of how each sees the same scene - because you as the audience can visualise the characters as being there, when they arrived and what they observed. When you write the scene, write it from one character’s point of view, but as you have the other characters interacting with them, they can comment on what they saw observed, contributing to the overall pieces of information, without repetition, unless it contradicts or adds to a specific point being made.

E) Age correlateable. By which I mean, if someone’s going to write about established characters that are in their 40s, 50s, etc., their life experiences, maturity, have them act/respond to each other as such. I have read stories - or rather attempted to - but the mental maturity of the author was showing through characters in their 40s, 50s, and it was obvious the writer hasn’t grasped that maturity of the characters. Listen to the character’s voices (what they’re saying, how they’re saying, even what they’re not saying but expressing visually) you’re writing about. This really comes out when writing arguments and sex scenes, btw.

F) Physical/mental characteristics: If a character has an illness or physical disability, or like affecting joints or paralysed limbs, amputations, or anything that affects movement, be aware of that, esp if writing a sex scene (a whole other rabbit hole of bad writing exists there, see next item). If in an argument, you’re trying to express the character throwing something in anger, like a mug/glass, etc., for example, and the character has an injured/disabled arm, their strength to throw is going to be limited. Show the character’s frustration that the action they wanted had less effect at releasing that anger/frustration. If the character has a visual (partial or full blindness) or auditory disability (eg. hard of hearing, deafness in one or both ears, over-sensitive to sound/volume), take that into account. Esp in arguments, if one of the people in the scene has a tendency to mumble, they may not be understood as words run together are not easily decipherable either by sound or lip reading. Mental health /illness (eg PTSD /complex PTSD [cPTSD], depression, anxiety affects physical health responses. If the characters have mental health disorders, be aware and maintain that continuity through the story. Don’t need to mention it all the time but be aware it can affect movement/physical responses, behaviour. And unless you’re House, you don’t need to include every odd, weird, very rare symptom he seems to need to diagnose something for the character 😂 .

G) Sex scenes: some are done so well that it’s seamless and flows well with the other parts of the story, where the intimacy blends well. Others, very much no so. Unless it’s a specifically written PWP (plot, what plot) story, and those can work when written well. Trust me, I’ve read otherwise well-written stories ruined by a sex scene that reads like a bad porn with characters that otherwise had physical limitation(s) in the rest of the story but were suddenly able to pull off manoeuvres of someone 20 years younger and fully able-bodied. Like someone just tacked on an explicit sex scene on that didn’t mesh with the story as if they were two completely different people that happened to have the same names as the ones in the rest of the story.

H) Continuity. Whether your story is short or long, be aware of where your characters are/what they’re doing. Having a sense of timing. Helpful to have a notepad (digital or paper) sometimes to keep track of movement. They can’t be in two concurrent scenes at the same time. Passing off information between the characters; don’t assume one character (or group of characters) knows what the other(s) are doing, unless they are in contact with each other (visual/audio/both/text). Cause/effect. Action/reaction. There may be delayed effects or reactions (over scenes/chapters), but reference them back to the original cause or action and why there was a delay. For example, somebody witnesses or experiences a tragedy, war, fire, sexual assault, accident, or other traumatic experience, and it triggers a delayed emotional or physical response hours, days, months, years later. The character may or may not be able to explain to their partner, colleague, friend what it was that caused effect/reaction. Similarly, following onto earlier example of a thrown glass/mug/vase, if it smashes there could be subsequent injury from ceramic/glass/etc. like a cut finger/palm of hand if picking up the pieces/cleaning the mess. So maybe it requires a bandage or wrap. Continuity would include making further grasping of things discomforting or painful, maybe a comment from another person inquiring what happened later on if they’re noticing a bandage that wasn’t there the last time they saw them.

I) Alternate Universe stories. I don’t mind AUs when done right - so that even if the characters are placed in a different setting, their general personality traits are very recognizable. I’ve read quite a few that nail this perfectly. Others, not so much. When it works, it works. Otherwise it’s just slapping familiar names onto original fic just to get more eyes on a story.

[lilover131]

Syaoran month day 29! This image is inspired by an episode very near and dear to my heart, so it comes with a story. Apologies for the length. I will add a cut once I get onto my actual computer.

When I was 12, I went into a video store in the mall and was browsing the anime DVD’s when I came across Cardcaptor Sakura, the uncut Japanese versions distributed by Pioneer. Having only ever seen *Cardcaptors*, I was like “Oh cool!! I haven’t watched this in a while and would love to see it again!”. I read the synopses on the back of the available DVD’s and ended up going with the one that had the title “Star Cards” on the front. I hadn’t seen much beyond the Final Judgement on TV and was excited to see more. The synopsis of the DVD I selected had this:

“Without the power to use the Clow Cards, Sakura must discover a new method of using her magic and her new staff. But will she be able to do this while being attacked by Eli’s traps: a possessed piano, a giant Teddy Bear and her own friend, Li Shaoran?! How much can an 11-year old handle?”

I read this and thought “This sounds really interesting!”, and I bought it with my allowance. Having only seen ‘Cardcaptors’, I had entirely different expectations going into it. I thought it would be in English and be like the show I saw on tv. But when I put the DVD in the player at home and found there was no English option and only Japanese with subtitles, admittedly I was a bit confused and frustrated as I was not used to this at all. But what happened ended up being something pretty incredible.

I realized that Cardcaptor Sakura was completely different from what I had seen with ‘Cardcaptors’, and for the first time I was really getting a taste of Japanese culture and seeing ‘Syaoran Li’ and not ‘Li Showron’. I had always disliked Li Showron because he seemed like a jerk, but when I saw ‘Syaoran’, everything changed. The episode “Sakura, Syaoran, and the Invisible Thread” introduced me to the real deal. I got to see his cool cautiousness around Eriol, his awkwardness and jealousy over Sakura in the craft store, his battle of will and strength as he fought not to hurt Sakura while being controlled, and his gentle kindness as she passed out in his arms. It was completely different from Li Showron, and from that moment on, I was obsessed.

I started drawing everything Syaoran, talked constantly about Syaoran (much to my family’s dismay), carried a small Syaoran figure with me ‘everywhere’, discovered FanFictions so I could get more Syaoran content. I eventually got frustrated that I couldn’t draw what I wanted to draw, so I started writing FanFiction (my first time writing anything for fun). I pasted pictures of Syaoran all over the notebooks I hand wrote my FanFictions in (maybe one day I’ll share them, but they are really bad and hilarious to look back on now), and when I turned 15, I decided to post my first public FanFiction, ‘Cry of a Wolf’. I created my current username then, LiLover131, to express my love of Syaoran, but because LiLover was already taken, I added 131, the first ‘13’ being the 13th of July, Syaoran’s birthday, and the last ‘1’ being Sakura’s birthday, April 1st. Tsubasa came around when I was about 13 (naturally I became obsessed with that too), so my high school years also included a looooot of fanart in notebooks during classes (when I should’ve probably been paying attention).

I’ve been obsessed with Syaoran ever since (though I did take a break for a few years after high school because I thought I was supposed to outgrow these things, but later learned I’m an adult who can like what I want to like).

So I guess what I’m getting at here with this story is that Syaoran helped me discover parts of myself that I didn’t know existed. I’m not sure I would’ve ever discovered how much I love writing without him or have many of the friends that I do now or have worked as hard on my art. So drawing him this month has really been special in a lot of ways. There are two more days, but I just wanted to thank you all before then for your support and kind words during this month. It really means a lot.

[imagining-in-the-margins]

I'm here! Finally answering these Anon Asks!

1. It is real (for now) 😅 It'll be very different than before - exclusive to Paramount+, not including all of the original cast*, only 10 episodes, and will be focused on one case rather than a procedural.

* The main S15 cast was invited back. Kirsten is not returning, and I think Daniel Henney will be busy on his new show. Matthew mentioned not really wanting to, but he was willing to reconsider. Paget and Joe have been very vocal supporters of the reboot, but Paget has been calling for fans to support her in negotiations.

We'll see. Not much has been decided yet. You can read more here.

2. You're my favorite and I hope you get all the hugs and kisses you desire, friend 😚

3. Yeah... I really blame the writers. They clearly wanted her to be some weird, stereotypical "spunky" girl. But, naturally, the writing team is riddled with misogyny and a deep misunderstanding of women, lmao. RLC is an amazing actress. I don't know what she could have done to save that mess of a character.

I really think her character was unnecessary on top of all of that. Spencer's final arc was about how he spent his whole life basing his worth and purpose on the women in his life (his Mother, JJ, Maeve, Cat). Date Night would have been a lot more meaningful if, after he got closure with Cat, he realized that he was still his own person, and would continue to exist after she was gone, and that he was going to be okay.

They could've done something great... but, alas...

4. Awe, of course! Like I mentioned before, I am planning on collecting Dad!Spencer fics to post on Father's Day. I hope that they all comfort you and reassure you that, even though your Father failed you, there are still so many people who will love and appreciate you, and we want you to know it!

5. So, there is a sequel to the book (which I have not read!) where he ends up in a remarkably similar situation. Here is the summary:

A month after narrowly surviving the most harrowing night of his life, Chip Taylor is living in a seedy, pay-by-the-week motel in a sleepy coastal town in Florida. He still has most of the 68 grand he and his crazy ex-girlfriend stole back in Tennessee, but he's a man living at loose ends, directionless and without a plan. He's drinking too much and surrendering to too many of the same temptations that landed him in so much trouble in the first place. It isn't long before Chip finds himself wrapped up in another nightmarish descent into bloody madness and chaos. And this time his survival is more in doubt than ever.

That is, obviously, super depressing, lmao. Probably realistic, too, honestly. I personally like to believe that he got a decent job and lived a modest life. He met a very sweet person that treated him well. He got therapy and spent the rest of his life being perfectly mediocre and happy about it. But to be honest, I haven't thought about it a lot!

6. Angst is a category of literature, although the term is usually used exclusively in fanfiction. Here is a simple definition from Urban Dictionary that, I feel, summarizes it well:

An adjective describing a situation or literary piece which contains dark, depressing, angry, and/or brooding emotions from the participating characters.

7. Ugh, I'm so sorry that you had a bad experience. Medications can be so hard. For you for take steps, even in such a state, to try to self-soothe is extremely impressive and you should be proud of yourself!

I'm glad you exist, too, and I'm so happy to hear that my mindless Spotify collections provided you some comfort in such an awful time.

I hope you have a wonderful day, too. Long-term medication regimens are seriously exhausting, and you are doing a great job. Keep it up, friend! You deserve so much happiness in life, and I'm so proud of you for taking care of yourself the best you can.

8. [NSFW] Hi friend! I can't say much on this subject, as I'm not a lesbian myself, but I do want to assure you that I've heard other lesbians, gay men, and aroace people express similar sentiments!

The truth is, to me, erotica is completely different aspect of enjoyment than the physical acts of sex. There are many things I enjoy reading or watching that I would never engage in physically. When you view erotica as a form of expression, separate from the expression of physicality, you might find that the true divide isn't the gender of the characters, but the emotions and connections established.

TL;DR, I'm very sorry you're feeling confused, but I know a ton of lesbians who enjoy reading het erotica, and you shouldn't necessarily feel like you are less valid of a lesbian because you like erotica works (written predominantly by women, mind you!).

Also, if your friends mock you for reading fanfiction, they kind of sound like jerks. There isn't much difference between fanfic and published works such as Outlander, which have remarkable success. You could always just say you read that (the smut scenes are, IMO, significantly less cringy in Outlander than other mainstream erotica, such as 50 Shades).

I hope that you get some relief from the frustration you're feeling. If you decide that you're bisexual and just heavily lean to women, I am happy to celebrate that with you, but I'm just as excited to celebrate if you decide that you are still a lesbian! 💕

Best of luck, friend. I'm happy you're here no matter what ☺️

[longinglook]

I may or may not have spent my entire Sunday binge watching all of I told sunset about you and Gaya sa pelikula and now I have so many thoughts and feelings that I need to write about them so here we go! Under a read more (if tumblr allows me to) because it’s 2k words hehe

First of all, I knew next to nothing about both shows before starting them. I had seen a couple of gifs here and there, but really had no idea what I was in for.

I started with I told sunset about you, which has 3 episodes out of 5 out. All I knew is that it was going to be beautiful and possibly sad, and it was. Everything about this show is so high quality, from the audio to the dialogue to the locations to the acting, just wow. The production is better than a lot of movies I’ve seen, and every technical aspect is perfect. I am really loving the plot so far as well, I find the childhood friendship to stubborn rivalry to grown up friendship again very relatable. I think it’s a very common experience for a lot of non straight folks to develop an extremely close bond with a same sex friend when you’re too young to realize what you’re actually feeling for them until you’re a lot older and suddely the jealousy and possessivenes all make sense.

I love the recurring themes sprinkled throughout the episodes, starting from the chinese vocabulary that expresses the core thoughts of the two main characters: rival, intimacy, secret, male protagonist, as promised. They could easily be the episode titles, or the names of imaginary sections the show could be divided into. It’s a great way to integrate metaphors and deeper meaning into the plot.

That’s how most of the communication goes in this show, deep emotions are never conveyed through words because words are scary and loud and they can’t be taken back once they’re out there. The plot advances though stares and gestures and touch and gorgeous shots of the landscape. The pace is slow with hour-long episodes that could each be a movie of their own. This worried me a bit before starting, and I have to admit that at times I struggled to stay focused, especially during scenes that set the mood but don’t do much plot-wise. This is just a personal preference, though, and in no way I see it as a flaw. 

The dancing around each other the main characters do, sometimes literal, is frustrating but it determines an emotional build up that’s just starting to reach its peak. This is one of those shows that has me screaming if only they talked to each other, but the silences and unspoken words are so well directed and acted that it works. I struggle a lot with keeping in mind that they’re still in high school, they’re very young and I can’t expect them to act rationally just yet. 

I was really worried about Teh possibly going the insufferable Theory-of-love-khai way, and I am still not 100% sold on him. When he started helping Oh-aew again it felt like he was just doing it to make himself feel better about the whole thing. It was frustrating to see him so possessive and jealous while also so deeply in denial about his own feelings, to the point where he had me rooting for Bas instead. He was getting better, but then he fled at the end of episode 3 and now I have no clue what’s going to happen next. About this, I really have no idea if they’re going for a happy ending or a sad one. I’m really hoping it will be good, because so far there has been barely any emotional payoff for all the repressed longing and misunderstanding the show has put us through.

I do like their dynamic a lot though, I have a weak spot for childhood friends reconnecting and an ever weaker spot for informal mentor/mentee relationships. Oh-aew asking Teh to tutor him until he passes the admission exam was an almost exact mirror of Yuri on ice Yuri begging Victor to be his coach until he retires and I loved that a lot.

Now on to the one issue I have with this show: it feels too much like an art film. It reminds me of Moonlight and Call me by your name, in the way that I wasn’t able to connect with those movies because they are too perfect. They are so beautiful and carefully crafted that I can’t fully immerse myself in them. There’s a filter that stops me from relating to the characters and constantly reminds me that this is not reality. It’s pretty, it’s extremely well done, but it feels like art. It has some quirks, some scenes that feel too artificial. One scene in particular, the one where Teh buries his head in the paper Oh-aew wrote with his coconut scented pen to sniff it, which is a direct parallel to Call me by your name, bothered me in particular. Just as it felt over-the-top and purposefully weird in the movie, so it feels in the show. It’s a way of showcasing how a confused teen deals with attraction he barely understands, it’s raw and animalistic in a way, but it’s so quirky that all it accomplishes is to remind me that I’m watching an lgbt show. It makes me wonder if a scene like this would make sense in a straight relationship because here it seems to highlight how different and primal his attraction is. If I had to pinpoint it, I’d say that I have a problem with media showcasing queerness though peculiar, purposefully awkward scenes like these instead of normal kissing and cuddling.

Overall, I can’t wait to see how this show ends and I still think it’s one of the best bls to air in 2020, if not ever. It’s refreshing to see something with a big budget used well! So far my rating is 8/10, which I know is a lot lower than what everyone else seems to think but it’s still very much subject to change! Just hoping they won’t pull a Make our days count, but I doubt they’ll go there.

And now Gaya sa pelikula. Wow. Again, I knew next to nothing about this show before watching, and I was coming from a 3 hour I told sunset about you binge watch, so the bar was pretty high.

And boy, did this show deliver. I was blown away by the depth and the humor of it. It feels like the writers had fun taking all sorts of common tropes and stereotypes just to show everyone how well they can be evolved and made complex. Two strangers who somehow find themselves sharing an apartment sounds like the start of so many fanfictions out there, but it’s so well executed and interesting that you don’t even stop to think about how weak the premises for their meeting are. It doesn’t matter and it’s not even that far-fetched, either. The sister and the neighbor are also two characters that start off as extra stereotyped, but in just a few scenes they unveil an incredible depth and backstory. It blew me away.

Each character is so realistic. Everything they do and say makes sense, they all have their reasons and their past and they react accordingly, it’s so coherent. It’s impressive how everything takes place inside the house and you barely realize it because things happen and the plot moves anyways, and the way information about external events and people is conveyed is so seamless that you don’t even notice it. In only 7 episodes (so far) they have managed to give everyone a complex background and personality through the use of objects and small details and wow don’t get me started on the music.

The soundtrack is SO GOOD. I never really pay attention to music in shows but it plays a very important role here in my opinion and, well, it’s exactly the kind of music I like listening to and ahhh I just spent 4 hours playing the first kiss song on loop so I might be biased. Right from the start in episode 1, when Karl gives in to Vlad’s music and starts dancing to it, it’s established that it’s an important element to the mood of each scene. I love how the dancing I talked about for I told sunset about you comes back here, but while I saw it as a hesitant dancing around each other there, here it’s the opposite, it’s freeing and it’s about accepting yourself. And the end of episode 6 highlights this, with the beautiful quote “You are entitled to a love that lets you dance without fear and shame.” It made me cry a looooot.

I think the development of their relationship is masterfully done. It doesn’t happen too quickly nor too slowly. Karl goes through some needed shocks that act as his wake up call. When I’m watching bl shows I care the most about them feeling real and relatable. I don’t want to feel like they were written by a straight person trying to guess what it’s like to be gay. Now I didn’t look anything up about the Gaya sa pelikula writers, but I’d be very surprised if they were straight. I can relate to both Karl and Vlad for different aspects of their stories and their worries and thoughts. There was one part in particular that hit so close that I had to take a few breaks because it hurt too much. I am a lesbian, I’ve had relationship with a girl that lasted over a year, I am out to some friends but not all. I never came out to my parents, who are both very open minded and friends with a lot of gay people and would love me just as much if I told them, and yet I can’t. It’s not just that, I am terrified by the idea of them already knowing or being able to guess. When Karl freaked out over his uncle guessing, it hit me so hard because I’ve felt the same way so many times.

Episode 7 was amazing. I hate badly written drama the most, and 99% of shows can’t come up with any good reason for drama but they have to put it in there anyways and it sucks. This was the complete opposite, I adored it and I say this as a lover of fluff. It feels right, I think it’s an issue that would come up between two people like them. They are both right and the only thing that could happen there is what actually went down. I definitely think things will be fixed by the end and I am looking forward to it, but I am very glad this issue was included because it’s so important and so true to many lgbt people’s lives.

Another aspect I absolutely adored are the multiple references to lgbt theory and language, and Vlad has some of the best lines I’ve ever heard coming from a bl. When he tells Karl not to be afraid of the word, when he explains that “you don’t look gay” isn’t a compliment, when he scolds his sister for not acknowledging the things she used to say to him by covering them up with her ally act, those are all such important and educative moments that I hope everyone listens to. I love that Vlad is not correcting some ignorant bad guy, but it’s his accepting and loving friends and family that make the mistakes, because sometimes being supportive your own way isn’t enough if you’re not actively learning from the ones you want to support.

This is a 10/10 for me right now. I can’t find anything I don’t like about it. It never feels boring, it never feels overdone, it never feels cheap or unoriginal. It went straight to the top of my favorite bls.

And now I can’t help but compare the two a bit, because yes they are two different shows but right now the relationships they portray have reached the same point: there has been a climax and now the one who is more confused about his sexuality is panicking and taking a step back. It’s a coincidence that I watched both shows on the same day when their last aired episodes end in such a similar way, but it really leads me to compare the two. I don’t want to put them one against each other or say which one did it better because that’s not the point of this, they are both two amazing and important shows who are excelling in what they’re doing. 

Gaya sa pelikula is down to earth, it’s explicit and it’s straight to the point in explaining what’s going on inside each character’s head. It feels like watching real people deal with real struggles. I told sunset about you is a lot more subtle and quiet, and since we don’t really have a clear insight in the characters’ heads sometimes it’s hard to completely understand what’s going on with them. It’s a completely different way of narrating, and while Gaya sa pelikula makes me feel like I’m a part of the events, I told sunset about you feels like I’m just spectating from an outside perspective. They are different choices, but one of them ends up feeling a lot more emotional to me than the other.

To wrap it up, I highly recommend both shows and I can’t wait to see how they’ll end! They are both among the best shows of the year, both free of all those annoyingly stereotyped characters and plot points that most bls tend to overuse.

[freddieofhearts]

Bye bye, dears (for now!)

I know there have been a lot of rumours and some posts about me leaving, so here I am to set the record straight and say a quick ‘au revoir’. This post is long, and I don’t expect everyone to read the whole thing—if you just want information on how to keep in touch, or about access to my removed fics, scroll to the bottom. ⬇️

*

Why are you leaving?

Firstly, of course I’m not leaving Freddie. This is just an ongoing hiatus from the social side of fandom, because while I have some incredible friends here, who have done all they can to support me and have made this experience wonderful in lots of ways—it’s also true that the social space has become more and more toxic for me.

I get a wild amount of hate. Despite never having my ask box enabled on here, people create new accounts just to message me and tell me all the problems in this fandom are my fault, that I’m faking being sick, that I should kill myself, that I’m fat, etc. I also very regularly get hateful comments on AO3.

Obviously I realise that I’m not the only one who receives these cruel attacks, but it’s become increasingly hard to handle them—especially as some people (‘real’ accounts, not faceless anons) do continue to blame me for wider problems in the fandom. It makes me feel consistently sad, anxious, and paranoid, so that I can’t focus on anything Queen-related that I enjoy.

More pressingly, it’s affected my mental health, which is—imperfect at the best of times. As I’ve occasionally alluded to in older posts on this blog, I have a history of anorexia, OCD, PTSD, and some other overlapping issues. Most people who know me in the fandom are also aware that I’m ‘clinically extremely vulnerable’ to Covid-19, significantly immunocompromised, and have been isolating at home for eleven months.

The combination of all of these things + the constant toxic messages has really been triggering me, and leading to an uptick in disordered behaviours, which my body cannot sustain. Every new instance of hate from an anon—every time there’s another indication of groups in the fandom wanting to ostracise me further—my reaction is deeply self-punitive and unhealthy. Ultimately I need to be out of this environment for, at least, a protracted period. My therapist, my partner and my close friends in the fandom support this decision.

*

So, what went wrong?

In 2019, I expected to be an absolutely tiny blog in the Queen Tumblr landscape. The fandom was already well-established, and I have never worked to ‘build a following’ on here—I think I’ve linked my own fic a maximum of three or four times!—in fact, more or less the opposite. As I mentioned above: ya girl is nutty as a fruitcake. As a result, I often avoid extremely niche things in daily life which cause severe anxiety for me, Relevant examples here: I never look at my timeline. I never intentionally look at my follower number. Yup, it’s strange, I fully admit it, but it’s best for me to go with these things—usually. In Queen fandom, however, this avoidance both of analytic stats and of most direct engagement led to some problems... My followers grew without me realising, and way more people were reading my blog than I was aware of. I was still in a—“Wow, this fandom is very frustrating, and rife with ableism, racism, etc., so how do we fix this???”—mindset, and I wanted to share my opinions, sure! but I also thought I was sharing them with 15-20 like-minded people.

Now, intent is not impact, and I recognise that I was brusque, didn’t phrase things particularly sensitively, and absolutely did hurt some people by criticising the fandom so freely. I still regret this—and I regret just as much the fact that some assholes have used my criticising the fandom on my own blog as implicit justification for attacking authors. I have said on here many times that I don’t condone that behaviour—but I also think there’s some truth in the presumption that these anonymous malcontents felt my critiques somehow ‘permitted’ them to engage in abuse. For the first few months, though, I genuinely had no idea there was a link at all—and so I was initially slow to condemn this abusive behaviour in public, because I was taking it for granted all authors agreed it was shitty. It took someone directly telling me (shoutout to @a-froger-epic) that people had identified a connection between my posts and the anons, before everything fell into place.

I would like to offer my apologies to the fandom at large for not being more quick on the uptake about this, because I feel that had I realised sooner that these people were taking ‘inspiration’ in some way from me, it might have been easier to put a stop to it. It does seem that there is still a lot of confusion about whether I support them and which of their views I agree with. Let’s be 100% clear on this: I do not support the anonymous commenters on AO3. At times there is some, limited overlap between parts of their views and parts of mine, but even that is less than you may think—I often see anonymous comments from so-called ‘Freddie fans’ that I substantially disagree with.

Perhaps even more importantly: I do not support anyone who sends anonymous hate on Tumblr.

*

What’s all this about ‘overlap’ with the anons?

Let’s do a mini-summary of the myths vs. the truth. There are views I hold which are genuinely unpopular in the fandom—but which I own up to completely, and have never tried to hide in any way. I’ve never needed to use anonymous to share my opinions because I’m completely open about them! What people who don’t know me tend to have ‘heard’ about me, though, is usually a drastic distortion of my real opinions.

What people think I think:

- Freddie should never top.

- It’s okay to send anon hate if someone writes Freddie ‘wrong’.

- It’s more important to correct ‘wrong’ portrayals than to respect other writers.

- It’s inherently wrong to be more interested in band pairings than canon pairings.

- Freddie should be overtly written as a r*pe survivor/victim (and not doing this is wrong).

- Freddie should be overtly written as having an eating disorder (and not doing this is wrong).

- Kink fics are wrong.

What I actually think:

- I believe Freddie did have a strongly defined sexual identity with marked preferences, but I don’t think Jim Hutton lied when he said that Freddie topped. I believe Freddie did top, but this isn’t the time or place to get into my thoughts on why/when/how much. I do believe that my analysis of the sources relevant to this subject is as historically accurate as one can reasonably be in matters of sex (where historical accuracy will always be particularly limited and imperfect)—but I don’t think it’s morally wrong to write Freddie as topping more than he probably did.

- I don’t believe there’s only one ‘right’ version of Freddie (all others being ‘wrong’). I do believe it is possible to be more right or less right—but I’m also conscious of the fact that this scale of value is not one by which everyone measures fanfiction. As a result, then, I don’t think that any perceptions surrounding ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ justify sending anonymous, non-constructive criticism, or outright hate.

- I do believe constructive criticism is a good thing. I welcome and appreciate it myself; I have received it on my fics in Queen fandom, and it has made them better. I have been in writing workshops which included very forceful criticisms, and the value of such feedback has been intimately and immediately part of my life as a writer for years. However: in this case, I have accepted that my opinion differs from the general community preference, and so I no longer offer any constructive criticism (outside private beta-reading). I haven’t changed my view, but I’ve changed my practice to align with community norms.

- I do not think any single, individual writer has a personal responsibility to write about Freddie Mercury in any given way. That ranges from including the more distressing topics to which I’ve devoted attention (such as trauma)—to concentrating on ‘canon’ pairings like Jimercury—to, even, focusing on Freddie at all.

“Now, that doesn’t sound like you, @freddieofhearts,” you might be thinking. And I know it doesn’t; I think something I’ve done a poor job of articulating is the difference between how I view each individual fan—namely, as free to shape their creative experience at will, even in ways that I might find distressing or offensive; even in ways that you might find distressing or offensive—and the way I view the Collective. I think people have interpreted some of my critiques of ‘Queen Fandom’ as meaning something like: “You-in-particular, a specific Queen fan, are doing it wrong and should change everything about how you do it; also you don’t really care about Freddie.”

And—that’s not it. What any given fan, as an individual, does, isn’t a problem. And that can be true alongside—concurrently with—a multivalent critique of how the fandom is lacking in representation of Freddie’s life, with all that that (wonderful, deservedly celebrated, but also profoundly traumatic) life entailed. I still hold that view; I still have myriad problems with ‘the fandom’ (structurally, collectively, historically and presently—from the 1990s to the 2020s). Some of what I want to work on (away from the social life of fandom) is expressing those critiques with greater nuance, in ways that can’t be misinterpreted as shading any particular fanfiction author or subgenre of story.

In brief: I haven’t changed my mind, but I think Tumblr is an untenable environment in which to discuss the things I want to analyse, especially as there is an ever-present danger of hurting someone.

*

Can we keep in touch? Where is the fic?

I will drop by this account periodically to check out posts that friends have sent me, so you can always sent me a private message to ask for my contact details on the other app that I’m using now for fandom friends. Multiple Freddie conversations and projects are going on over there, off-Tumblr, with a much ‘gentler’ environment and no bad actors—I personally love it!

All my fic has been downloaded and saved. I don’t want to deal with constant harassment on AO3, but I’m happy to share a copy with anyone who missed it and wants to read/re-read something. I also saved everyone’s lovely comments and thoughtful con-crit, so none of that has been lost or erased.

Thank you to everyone who welcomed me to the fandom, made me think, taught me, shared with me, sent me into fits of the giggles, collaborated with me creatively, and otherwise made this one hell of a ride! Love you all. ❤️

[greekgeek21]

Percy Jackson & The Avengers: Convergence - they steal an old pirate ship

I'm alive!! I'm so sorry for just ditching you guys, but I was in Shasta for a week and didn't have any internet access so I wasn't even able to say that I was gonna not update. But I hope this nice, semi-long chapter makes up for it!  Reminder that this is also available on FF, Inkitt, Ao3, Webnovel, and Wattpad

On a completely different note, I'm going to be starting to write a book. Like, a real published book. It'll take a few years but I'm determined and I love the idea I thought of so if any of you are interested, email me at oceanbreezq68@gmail.com and I might be willing to send some samples. I want input, badly. And all the people in my life are biased. Total strangers on the internet are totally made for this, right?

I recently got into readers marauder era fanfics and I'm already in too deep, gays (and yes I meant to say gay, we all know it if you're reading pjo fanfiction). There is no escape.

Anyway, I'm running out of prewritten chapters, so I have to get to writing that while preparing to write a book. Wish me luck! Happy pride month! 🏳️‍🌈✨

- your author

Ω ♆ Ω

"Run it by me again. Just one more time," Steve asked, still highly confused.

They had made it to Florida and were now at a private dock. Percy had just briefly explained his control over any water vehicle and the Captain was not getting the point.It was understandable. Percy still barely got it.

However, they didn't have a whole lot of time, and every second they wasted discussing Percy's weird powers was another second Annabeth's captors had to hurt her. They did not have time for this.

"We are going to steal a boat, and I'm going to sail us the rest of the way," Percy sighed.

"Ok, but, how are we going to sail it if only you know how to do it?" Steve asked.

Even Piper was getting frustrated now. "He can control the boat! We won't have to do anything! The boat will listen to his will! Oh my gods!"

"But how is that possible!?" Steve shouted.

"How would I know?! I was just born with the freaky powers!" Percy yelled right back, getting fed up with this never-ending conversation.

Jason decided to cut in before things got too out of hand. They had to save Annabeth.

"Guys! This doesn't matter! What matters is that we save Annabeth, and we can't do that if we're stuck here arguing over something that is out of our control," he said.

Percy huffed. "He started it."

Hazel rolled her eyes. "How does Annabeth put up with you?"

"Honestly? No idea," Percy smirked.

"Let's just get going, team. We have a boat to steal, right?" Tony asked.

"Yep. And I think this place has the perfect one for the job." The son of Poseidon then started walking away, apparently following his weird sailing powers.

I guess we're supposed to follow him, thought Piper.

Ω ♆ Ω

"This is supposed to take us through the most cursed waters on the planet?" Bruce asked, looking the boat up and down.

"Yes. Isn't it beautiful?" Percy said and smiled, running his hand along the side.

Tony leaned over to Frank. "Is he seeing the same boat we are?"

Frank just shrugged, used to Percy's weirdness by now. Honestly, it was a little hard for him to imagine the team taking what was in front of them to Polyphemus' island. It seemed like it wouldn't survive the normal ocean.

To be clear, what Percy was suggesting they take was an old pirate ship, currently on display inside of a warehouse at the dock. It was covered in dried-up barnacles, and the mast was split in half. There were also holes all along the sides. It was a miracle the thing hadn't crumbled already.

"Yes, Tony, I am. This thing will run for me. It doesn't even need to be repaired, I can handle that. The only thing that matters is that it is built to withstand the type of waters we're going out in," Percy said. "We need all the advantages we can get."

Natasha, to everyone's surprise, spoke up, "I think we should trust Percy. If he says it'll work, then it'll work. He's the son of Poseidon, right? Nothing can hurt us while in the ocean. Am I correct, Percy?"

Jason cleared his throat and gave Percy a significant look. The Avengers needed to know that they were basically powerless in the triangle. The older teen looked ready to explain, but Frank spoke before he had the chance.

"Actually, no. The Sea of Monsters is outside of Poseidon's realm of power, hence the name. Percy won't have the same access to his father's domain as he does out here," he said, "So, basically, we're entering a dangerous situation, with no backup, and an inexperienced team. Should be fun, right?"

The Avengers were shocked, to say the least. Not at what the boy had said, but who had said it. As far as they had seen, Frank wasn't as confident as his physical form portrayed. They were wrong. Frank was confident, and his friends were proud of him for it, too. It had been a large transformation from when Percy had first met the son of Mars.

"Well, I think we should start heading out. We want to get as far as possible before the sun goes down, right?" Piper asked.

"Right," Percy nodded.

She wasn't really certain about all of this sailing stuff. Sure, she had been on the Argo II, but that was different than an actual boat. For one, it could fly and was controlled by a gaming console. She hadn't really bothered learning how to actually run a ship for that.

But now, she had to act like she knew what she was doing, and that was scary. The Avengers may put on a confident front, but she saw the insecurities in all of them. Some were harder to find than others, but finding insecurities was her specialty.

They really were going into a completely unknown situation. At least Piper and the Seven had been in this world for a little while, but the Avengers hadn't even encountered a monster before. It would sure be a shock when they were faced with some of the worst ones for their first fights. So, she and the rest of the demigods had a responsibility to be the examples, no matter how much the "adults" liked to point out that it was "ethically wrong" for them to do that.

Ω ♆ Ω

Turns out, the kid hadn't been lying about being able to sail the ship. Tony would be the first to admit that he was skeptical of the structure of the vessel, but he was proved wrong when, after the group had gotten the thing into the water, it had started to magically prepare itself for departure. Not a single drop of water leaked into the interior; it was like the water simply moved around the holes.

It was spectacular!

Before he knew it, the group had settled into the boat and were moving away from the dock. The Avengers were marveling at everything around them, considering that Percy wasn't even steering the thing, and yet it was supposedly moving in the right direction. To add to the shock, the ship's parts were moving themselves. It was not logically possible, and yet there Tony was, watching it unfold like some kind of acid trip.

"This is...amazing," he muttered, leaning against the rail with Leo, who he had taken a certain liking to. They were a lot alike.

The son of Hephaestus grinned, "Right? I told you guys Percy had cool powers. You should see him with Blackjack or Arion. It's wacky, man!"

"Who's Blackjack and Arion?" Tony asked, noting the new names.

"Oh. Right, I forgot. Blackjack is Percy's pegasus, and Arion is Hazel's horse. Percy can talk to them because his father created horses," Leo answered.

And just when the man of iron was getting used to all of this, he was pulled back into astonishment.

Ω ♆ Ω

After a couple hours of mingling and exploring, Percy called the team up to the deck. He had started to feel it a while ago when he knew it was still a distance away, but now he knew that they were approaching the Sea of Monsters.

It was a blank spot for him. Everywhere else, he could feel the ocean's power thrumming, waiting for him to control it. But here, there was nothing. Considering they were in the middle of the ocean, it was pretty obvious what it was. That was how he had tracked the place down without a map. It was his blind spot. He would just follow the blankness like it was the North Star.

Once everyone had gathered, he told them the news, and to say the atmosphere changed was an understatement. What smiles they had had disappeared, and their expressions turned serious.

"It's time, guys. Get ready. The first thing we're going to come up on is Scylla and Charybdis. We have to go through them to get into the sea. Now, I've planned this so that we should hopefully be able to pass through without any problems, but with six demigods' luck, we shouldn't rely on that too much. Charybdis only feeds three times a day, so if I planned this right, we should be able to pass over her without a fuss. Everyone got it? Be prepared for a fight, but don't expect it, please. We don't need any more reasons for the Fates to curse us."

Hazel stepped up, "Should the Avengers help us if we end up fighting something? Or should they just observe how we deal with monsters first?"

"We can handle ourselves," Steve defended.

Jason sighed, fed up with the same old arguments, "Alright, that's it! The Avengers will let us take the lead in any fights we may or may not end up in. They will not do anything without one of our approvals because we have actual experience with these beings. They will not be put on the sidelines, but they will also not be on the front lines. Does that work for everyone?"

Percy sent a thankful grin to his cousin, "Thank you, Jason. And yes, it does."

Jason just nodded in return.

"Alright, gang! Buckle up! Make sure to keep your hands and feet inside the ship at all times, and remember, the sword points away from you. It's showtime!" Leo cackled.

Just as he finished, they entered a wall of mist, which was unsettling to say the least. The temperature dropped almost three degrees as they passed through it.

Percy pulled out Riptide before steering the ship towards Charybdis. Hopefully, if everything went to plan, they would be out of this Hades-forsaken place by sunrise.

But, of course, nothing ever went to plan on a demigod's quest.

Ω ♆ Ω

Maybe it wasn't the best idea for me to come, was Bruce's first thought as he got his first glimpse at a greek monster. He had taken refuge inside the sleeping quarters of the ship, practicing his breathing exercises. He was really hoping this didn't turn into a Code Green. This was definitely not the place to let the Hulk loose.

So far, it had been silent upstairs, so Bruce concluded that it was going good so far. He had researched the Greek and Roman myths before they had left and on the plane, and everything that he could find on Charybdis was not reassuring. It was true what Percy said, that she only ate three times a day, but nobody really knew when those times were. Until Percy, apparently. He had survived the Sea of Monsters, so everyone on this ship had to trust his judgement in everything they did here. Bruce could tell that the other Avengers were struggling with taking orders from a "child." But Bruce had learned to not underestimate anyone on his travels while in hiding. Plus, look up any demigod's name and there was a whole list of accomplishments to find.

If Percy said that he knew when the monster liked to eat, then he knew when the monster liked to eat. It was as simple as that.

So, ten minutes into their first obstacle, and things were going fine. Everyone was eerily quiet, but no sign of Charybdis or Scylla yet. Of course, as soon as someone thought about it, an outline of a serpent appeared in the fog surrounding the boat.

Frank was the first one to spot it. "Guys..." He looked up at Percy. "We have a problem."

He pointed into the fog and Percy cursed. "Oh schist. I knew she couldn't just leave us alone."

The Avengers had figured out that something was coming and were unsure what to do. The demigods seemed to be just waiting like sitting ducks for the thing to attack them, and that was not a good plan. The Avengers don't wait for their opponent to strike first.

"Alright, that's it. I'm going to see what it is," Tony mumbled, activating his Iron Man armor.

"No, Tony! That's not a good-" Piper got cut off as the billionaire flew off, "...idea."

If she couldn't yell at that idiot, she was gonna yell at his teammates. She turned around, prepared to cuss out some idiot "superheroes," but Hazel beat her to it. "What was he thinking?! Why didn't you idiots stop him?! He has no idea what he's getting himself into! That monster is NOT something you guys can handle without our help! Mortalium tam stultus!"*

Natasha appraised the small demigod. She sure was a young spitfire. And from what she had seen already, a powerful one.

"Ok, let's just calm down, alright? Tony should be able to hold his own until we can go save his stupid ass," Leo sighed. Working with mortals was draining.

They were always so brash about things. And yes, coming from a greek, that statement was pretty hypocritical, but it still wasn't a lie. He idolized Mr. Stark's work, but man if only the guy could learn some restraint and he would be perfect.

Just as Leo had spoken, an explosion was heard, followed by a muffled string of curses. Only Tony Stark could come up with those creative swear words, so at least there was proof that the guy was still alive. For now, at least. The group needed to get that soon.

"Alright, hold on! This is gonna get bumpy!" Percy shouted, steering the ship towards the sound of fighting.

He willed the vessel to move faster, and it, of course, obeyed. In his head, Percy was just thinking rush rush rush. They needed to get this fight out of the way and get to Annabeth right after. Percy was praying to any god that would listen for there to not be any more disruptions to their journey. He just had to be confident in his skills. He had done this before, so he knew what lay ahead of them.

And it was going to be a challenge.

Ω ♆ Ω

Tony would deny any claim of him being held in the mouth of a sea serpent by his leg. Cuz that didn't happen. Totally.

But if it did, then the rest of the questing group would have worked together to fend off the monster until they could get away. Percy would've used Riptide to stab the monster in the leg, while Jason flew up and used his gladius to cut open her eye. The rest of the group basically just put on a full-frontal assault until Scylla released their idiotic teammate. Leo blew some fire, Hazel manipulated the Mist so that the Avengers could all see it for what it was, Piper made it loosen its grip with her charmspeak, Frank and Clint released some well-placed arrows, Natasha fired some gunshots, and Steve sliced into it with his shield.

All in all, the thing realized quickly that it was outmatched.

Then, after Tony received a very stern reprimanding by Piper and Steve, the group carried on. They didn't have time to dilly-dally. Saving Annabeth was their top priority.

Ω ♆ Ω

Meanwhile...

"Let me go, you skatá!"* Annabeth screamed, kicking her captor in the knees.

She had been knocked out as soon as they had shadow traveled, so she hadn't woken up until an hour ago. When she had, her wrists and ankles had been shackled to a stone wall with imperial gold shackles. The terrorists had stepped up their game.

There was dim lighting, but from what she could figure out before, she was in a cave of some kind. They had completely cleared out the area around her, so there weren't any visible location markers. That is, until they moved her.

The people who had grabbed her were strong and bulky and covered in black. They had black combat suits with black ski masks covering their features. Stereotypically, Annabeth would've figured the goons to be stupid, but they kept her shackles on and put a sack over her head so they at least has someone smart on their team.

Annabeth was getting really sick of not knowing anything, though.

So that's where she found herself at the moment: as a "defenseless" hostage. It was quite comical, really. Did these idiots really think that she would go quiet?

She felt one of her kicks come into contact with a kneecap and heard a satisfying grunt of pain from one of the thugs. Good, she thought, I hope that hurt.

Then, she was thrown onto the cold, stone floor and forced to hold her head up. The whole situation was so stereotypical that she wanted to laugh. But then she also didn't want to come off as more psycho than her captors, so she kept it to herself.

"This is quite interesting," a voice said, "The prideful daughter of Athena, reduced to a simple mortal's hostage.

The sack on her head was yanked off, so Annabeth spat down at the man's feet, glaring at him with a burning hatred. Taking a quick survey of the room, Annabeth found that she was being held captive on Polyphemus' island. The room was the main room of his cave; the one where she, Percy, and Grover further blinded the cyclops.

"If you had actually gotten me on your own, it might have been impressive, but having to use monsters is just pathetic," she said.

The leader growled and kicked her in the jaw. It didn't have enough power to break it, but it did cause her to bite through her tongue.

Annabeth spit out the blood produced in her mouth, dirtying the man's shiny shoes. The guy would have to do a lot worse than that to scare her.

"Hmm... I like your spirit. It's going to be that much more fun when I break it," he hissed, kneeling down to her eye level.

"I hope you rot in Hades," is all Annabeth responded with.

The guy laughed. ACTUALLY laughed. So, he was a crazy sociopath hades-bent on tearing down the natural order of the universe, Annabeth decided, how nice.

Ω ♆ Ω

I kinda really love this and I hope you did too. Now, to get into some unasked political shit: Love is love. I like all genders, and I still don't want to see any of them practically having sex in front of me. So just, accept yourself and others for who they are and move on. Is that so hard? Happy pride month & happy Father's Day!!

- your author

PS Remember to comment, like, and reblog!

other chapters :)

Ω ♆ Ω

Bonus scene!

The group was spending time in the dining room of the ship when all of a sudden, Percy remembered something truly horrifying. Like, beyond disgusting!

“Oh, my gods! Guys!!!” he exclaimed.

Hazel rolled her eyes and said, “What, Percy?”

“Charybdis is my half-sister! Ew ew ew ew ew EW EW EW EW!!!” Percy shouted his answer.

Everyone simultaneously gagged.

(Inside, Steve was starting to get seriously concerned about these kids’ chaotic family.)

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 99

Here we have the aftermath of the Warlord Bowl. 

Here, we finally... FINALLY get to see Jokul as a person and not a far-off mysterious bad guy. Consciously, there was never any intent to compare Jokul to people who don’t understand how politics work: @zommbiebro​ isn’t even American, for one thing, and therefore neither is Jokul. However, reading it on the last pass before posting, I realized how it could be taken.

The part that isn’t relevant to the chapter: While I didn’t mean that comparison, please make sure you vote in any local elections available to you, if it doesn’t risk your life. No matter how much you feel your vote doesn’t matter, it does. If everyone who didn’t vote decided to do so, it would change the world.

In my own country, I’ll be taking time off work - because I have that ability - and taking local people to polls that ordinarily would be inaccessible to them within their district.

Back to the chapter relevant stuff: Thank you to @zommbiebro​ for giving me such a good character to play with, @charlylimph-blog​ for reading to ensure entertainment, and @baelpenrose​ for beta reading in every way that entails.

After a quick dinner at the first mess we came across - and true to my promise, I didn’t cook anything - Arthur, Antoine and I reconvened with Jokul in my office. As agreed, he brought only two of his own people, who sat on either side of him in a mirror to how I was bracketed by my own friends.

Unfortunately, they entered as I was mulling out loud the possibility of making hot pot for family dinner one night.  Even less fortunately, the ginger who I had thrown in the gym was one of the people who walked through my door while I was debating the logistics of meat versus vegetarian options.

“She doesn’t even take us seriously!” the nasal voice complained, interrupting me.

Simultaneously, several things happened. I opened my mouth to retort, Arthur put a hand over my mouth, Antoine pushed my shoulder back into the chair.

And Jokul spoke up.

“We agreed to meet with them if Farro beat me in combat.  He did, we are here, and there will be no further argument on the matter.” If anything, he sounded weary rather than angry. “She did not even request that we cease acting against her, only that we meet as equals. It is the least we can do.”

I didn’t even know forehead cramps were a thing until I gave myself one with the speed of my eyes widening. Slowly, Arthur lowered his hand so I could speak. “Right,” I coughed. “So, there are a few things I want to know.”

“Such as?” 

“Why am I your target?” I blurted out. Of everything, this was the one that was weighing heaviest on me. I felt if I could understand that, I would know how to tackle the rest. 

To my frustration, he fucking shrugged. “You are emblematic of everything that will destroy our chance at a new start,” he stated calmly, like he was telling me his name.

I sputtered before regaining my composure. “How? How am I doing something badly?”

“You only want to consolidate power, rule over the masses!” the red-haired toady honked at me.

The overblown statement and Jokul’s subsequent glare at his own man was a level of ridiculous I couldn’t handle at that moment.  Laughing ruefully, I wiped away a tear that warned me I was close to hysterical. “I don’t want to rule over anyone, dude.  If I had my preference, I would only decide what I want to eat once or twice  a week for the rest of my life.”

“But you rule over the Council,” Jokul pointed out in a confused tone.

“I don’t rule anyone, buddy. I am on the Council largely against my will, and mostly because no one else who is qualified even wants my job. Trust me, I’ve tried.” Gods had I tried.

His next statement was significantly less confident. “But you took the reins of power…”

“I am a glorified event coordinator and human resources officer. I have a staff of exactly two. One is my sister, who has been in her role longer than I’ve been in mine and only listens to me when it’s convenient. The other is my assistant, who is British as hell and listens to me on about equal level with my cat.”

“The Baconists! Your assistant was part of that rebellion! You must have known and hidden it from our hosts!” I had to give him some begrudging credit. Even he didn’t sound like he believed his own words, and if the smug look from Tweedledumb and Tweedledumber on either side of him was anything to go by, that wasn’t his own theory.

Time to set the record straight, it seemed. “Okay, quick reminder: that bitch tried to kill me,” I enunciated carefully, leaning forward as I spoke.  “She nearly succeeded. That wasn’t a cover up, it was her realizing that I talk to myself in the shower and listening long enough to hear me think through what was going on. As far as hiding her intent from our hosts… You’re only half right. Miys doesn’t read minds, contrary to what people think, they only read intent. That nutjob really did think she was doing the best thing for the universe by wiping humanity off the proverbial map. Nothing for Miys to pick up, she actually had what she thought were good intentions.”

“You have built yourself to be this legendary hero -”

“I didn’t build myself to be jack. Effing. Shit. If I had my preference, I would give you my position, and open a restaurant that does cooking classes.” When he opened his mouth to interject, I held up a hand to stop him. “Miys likes me because I talk to myself, even in my head, and so badly that they can still hear what I am saying when I don’t move my lips. I only survived being attacked by a crazy person because I treat the person who saved me like, you know, a person? Make sure he’s okay, give him his space when he wants it, sass him back when he wants to be sassy. It was just sheer, dumb luck, and I’m not even sure it was good luck, because voila!” I flung my hands wide at the current situation, forcing both Arthur and Antoine to duck. A quick glance at Antoine only rendered one of his eloquent shrugs. Must be handling the situation okay if he doesn’t think I need help.

I was less concerned with Arthur’s opinion, not because I didn’t care, but because I knew he would jump in when he felt it was needed, without prompting or permission.

“So you do not want to rule over us all?” Jokul asked carefully.

“I don’t even want to top one of my boyfriends consistently.”

“Sophia!” Antoine hissed with a miserable expression, while Arthur burst into a coughing fit. I wasn’t sure if the latter was trying to cover a laugh of choking. 

Jokul, on the other hand, seemed to take that at face value  “Then why are you in power? Explain that.”

With a heavy sigh, I tried again. “I’m not in power. Decisions are voted on by the Council. If someone brings me an idea for a class, or an architectural project, or a medical possibility, I pass it off to the Councilor who handles that and let it go from there.” Emphatically, I pointed at my own face. “Again, glorified events coordinator and HR.”

“And yet, you have your pet warlord sitting beside you. Explain that away,”Tweedledumb - the brunette on Jokul’s other side - accused.

I whipped my head to look at the subject of that statement before looking back across the table. “Arthur?” I asked, jerking a thumb in his general direction. “You do realize he’s a teacher first, right? Warlord out of need, but that ‘need’ was protecting the students in his history class when everything went to shit? Don’t get me wrong, we butted heads like you would not believe when we first met in person. But we realized halfway through what looked to be one hell of an argument that we knew each other for - fuck, like, a decade? Maybe less? - before the End. I didn’t ‘win him over.’ We just realized we’ve always been friends.” With a shrug I glanced back at Arthur, who also shrugged before nodding.

“Too convenient, Councilor.” Tweedledumb gloated. “You just happened to be friends with someone who - “

“Oh for FUCK’s sake!” Annnnd there it was.  Someone had reached his limit for diplomacy and stupidity. “We met on a fanfiction site writing a crossover of two of the worst pieces of science fiction ever written and mutually infected each other! FUCK!” Crossing his arms, he started muttering to himself. “Not like finding someone to kick your asses is hard…”

After a glare at the darker-haired idiot, and with an expression that looked like he was entirely regretting his choice of people for this meeting, Jokul schooled his features before addressing me directly. “Fanfiction?” he asked in a skeptical tone.

And the dirty truth comes out, I thought with another sigh. “StarDoc and Warhammer 40K, okay? It was fun, no fandom to cheese off, nothing smutty. Just… fun.” When the nostalgia threatened to overtake me, I shook my head vigorously. “The point is, we knew each other for years Before the world went to shit, and only realized when one of my friends landed in his class and there was a data error.  I don’t even like violence.” Antoine gave me a skeptical look so I clarified. “Usually.”

“And yet you are a combatant!” Jokul stated with certainty, clearly on more familiar ground.

Angrily, I scowled at Tweedle-the-ginger before leaning forward to look into Jokul’s eyes. “Look. I don’t know how it was in Canada, with your mooses and shit, but I really, really want to know: Do you honestly believe that anyone who got through the After did it without learning how to defend themselves? Even more, that any woman who made it, didn’t learn to fight dirty?”

“Not if you know how to have people defend you - “ Jokul tried before I cut him off.

“They don’t defend me because I’m helpless, let’s be clear. They defend me because I will only fight back if I know my life is on the line. But, on the same page, I will protect my friends and family from anything, without reserve, and die for them. No hesitation.” With a deep breath, I sat back rather than jumping over the table.  “I have my flaws, and my sister will tell you the biggest among those is that I trust too easily.  I assume the best in, literally, everyone.”

“Except smartass teacher, apparently,” Arthur said in a fake cough that fooled exactly nobody.

After making a face at my friend, I turned back to the moose in the room. “What that means is, I don’t try to defend myself until it is literally your life or mine. Or both. I don’t really care at that point, because I assume I’m not going to make it. I just want the person I’m fighting to go down with me.” Trying to imitate Charly’s most savage grin, I put on a forced-cheerful tone. “Now, tell me, Jokul. Who would rather have faced in that fight, knowing that?”

His eyes darted between Arthur and myself as he swallowed hard, mulling the implications of that. “You would kill and die for your friends’ safety and health, even if you would only protect yourself at the last moment?” Here, he scoffed. “There is nothing exceptional or even special about that. Many who were in power in the After felt the same.”

“Except I don’t want power,” I repeated in a tone that I previously reserved only for small children. “I just told you that.” In the corners of my eyes, I saw both of my friends nodding so hard I was concerned for their spines.

Before I could try to reason with Jokul any more, Arthur jumped in. “If you’re both done arguing righteousness, let me explain a few things. Jokull. First off, Soph actually doesn’t want to rule, or be on the Council. She told you this. She’s also bitched about it to me, her sister, and anyone else who will listen, at length. On top of being too trusting, her biggest flaw is actually an impulsivity problem, in general. But she’s not an autocrat.” As he gestured, I saw his eyes glaze over, his voice taking on a serene tone that was entirely too familiar. “If Soph was a real autocrat, she’d have let us have our little duel armed, with my sword and - I presume you’d have had an ax? Maybe a broadsword? You look like a broadsword guy... any rate.”

“However,” he continued, leaning forward with a thoughtful expression, like he was puzzling something out. “she made me promise not to kill you. Think about that. After you’ve been nothing but a headache and a threat to her and her family for months, she makes me promise not to kill you. I wanted to, you know.” The wistful sigh that accompanied that statement was entirely unnecessary and I was certain he only did it to irritate me.  “I wanted to kill you and have your lifeless corpse thrown out of the airlock like trash, not because of the Council, not because your Viking gimmick wears out in a hurry, but because you made the mistake of threatening a friend, then slapping a student. I had no idea if you were actually going to seriously harm any of them, and I didn’t care. The threat alone was enough to make me decide I wanted you dead.” Tapping his chin briefly, he pointed at Jokul without actually looking at him. “Because you were an unknown quantity, but no matter whether or not you were actually the threat you claimed to be, your corpse would be harmless.”

Arthur shrugged before looking Jokul in the face. “That’s how warlords handled things in the After, isn’t it? When someone threatened your people, or when someone threatened mine? I didn’t negotiate. I didn’t warn. I doubt you did, either. I took them at their word, and I did unto them first. And I’d bet you did the same. ‘Peace’ was what you called it when everyone who wanted to make war on you or your people was dead. That’s what the After taught me, that’s what it taught you.” After emphasizing his point by gesturing between the two of them, he shook his head.  “And that impulse, that set of lessons? That's not what humanity needs right now. Our skill set as leaders is not what humanity needs right now. If you want humanity to have a fresh start as you claim, drop the hostility, drop the self-righteousness, and actually try listening. Do you want a genuine peace with the Council?” Thoughtfully, he stroked the hilt of his sword where it laid across his lap. 

I knew it was the fondness of being reunited with a long lost limb, but Jokul didn’t know that. 

“Or a warlord’s peace with me?” In a creepy way, Arthur’s tone was downright perky. “I prefer a genuine one. A warlord’s idea of peace is one of the things I want to leave in the ashes of the After. That’s why it’s the Council who make the rules here - not warlords.”

With an alarmed expression, Jokul very slowly glanced at me. “Did he just threaten to kill me and shove me out an airlock?”

“No, he’s pouting because I wouldn’t let him do that,” I answered honestly.  The topic had come up, for a solid fifteen seconds.  I was even reasonably sure Arthur had been joking.

“I don’t - “ Arthur started  indignantly before being cut off by Jokul.

“He makes a good point. Our skills as warlords are not what is needed in this new world. I let myself believe people who told me that the Council in general and you specifically wanted to hoard power and privilege over us, just like the people who led Earth to where it ended up.” He glanced nervously at Arthur, who was still stroking his sword, before forging ahead in a somewhat squeakier tone. “If someone who has had real power agrees that you and the Council are the best option, then I will at least try to see how that would work.”

Here, Antoine joined the conversation. “Militant strength and ruling by force aren’t the only forms of power. We do not want that sort of power over us anymore. The Council leads because the people on this ship largely want to follow them.  That is the kind of power no one can force.  It has to be earned.”

“But the Council still makes decisions without our will - “

Shaking my head, I angrily flicked open my datapad and shot a file to him like I was thumping off an insect. “No, Bjornson, we don’t.  I was elected to my position - without my knowledge, might I add - by the people I represent to the Council. Every decision we make, the people on this ship get a vote with the exception of an emergency like what happened on Level One.  There wasn’t time to have a vote on how to handle that.”

“Although, we have had a lot of emergencies lately, so I understand the confusion,” Arthur interjected.

Is this what hallucinations feel like? I wondered. There was no way in frozen hell Arthur just made a point in Jokul’s favor, but the calm, resigned look on his face told me that, at some point, he seemed to have made peace with having to treat Jokul Bjornson as a sentient being. I was going to pass out if I kept sighing, though. “Okay, true. But everything else - Insert Winter Holiday, the swimming area, the diving docks, food festivals, permanent low stimulation areas throughout the ship, Galactic Core education - those were voted on by the people on this ship, with an overwhelming majority in favor.”

“What about the alarms?” Jokul pointed to his own head for emphasis.

“Also voted on, believe it or not,” I confirmed. “ And most of the ship agreed that there was more benefit in not running into people who would react badly to unexpected touch than there was discomfort at the alarms going off.”

“I tested them myself, monsieur.” Antoine offered. “So I am well acquainted with the volume they are calibrated for, and I do not appreciate you disabling them.  My staff have had to work around the clock to treat the damage your people have caused to others on this ship, who are terrified to leave their quarters now.”

Jokul looked a bit guilty at that, as well as his entourage.  Looked like he hadn’t considered that. “Would you believe me if I told you that was originally an accident?” he admitted sheepishly.  “One of the engineers thought it would be funny to shock another one in the neck with a low level electrical current, right behind the ear.” He turned his head and pointed to a small burn scar in the same place. “It took days for them to notice that the proximity alarm didn’t work anymore.”

To my shock, Antoine started swearing angrily in French, so fast even the translator couldn’t keep up. “Sophia, if I find out Charly Harper is the cause of this…”

Jokul shook his head vigorously. “I can assure you it was not Miss Harper.” His focus slid over to me, eyes wide.

Either this motherfucker just lied to keep Charly out of trouble, or she really was innocent.

“That explains why Derek and Zach couldn’t figure out how they did it,” Arthur pointed out. “You can’t hack into something that’s shorted out.”

Jokul spoke up again. “It also… may? Have caused some translation inconsistencies?”

“So the shock corrupted more files than just the alarms,” I stated in clarification.

“Several, in fact, yes…. Specifically signed languages and tonal languages.”

“That’s… that’s at least a third of the ship…” I couldn’t figure out if I wanted to sob in horror or laugh hysterically.

Jokul groaned before cradling his head in his hands. “I am aware, yes.”

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[drakewalkerfantasy]

Giving in. (Eleventh Doctor x Clara Oswald)

A Doctor Who fanfiction for #WhouffleWeek2020

Day 1: Jealousy / “How does that feel?” 

Pairing: Eleventh Doctor x Clara Oswald

Not sure if anyone would be interested so just tagging my lovely and amazing and very supportive friend here: @choices-bound​ 

I hope you will enjoy it.

Summary: After Clara being late for their usual Wednesday's adventures the Doctor becomes very jealous of what he have accidentally witnessed outside TARDIS' doors. Will he finally admit of being jealous and will act on his feelings that he is developing to his pretty companion? Or will he lie making the distance between them even bigger? And will he finally Give in as he promised once upon a time to another Clara, in Victorian London. And could this promise hold completely different meaning this time...

Words: 3189

A/N: I’m not sure who want to be tagged. This fic probably completely rubbish... but I wrote and rewrote 100% and I know I can do better, if I would have month or two to write and if my little baby wouldn't interup. But hope you will enjoy it a little bit at least :)

**Warnings: slightly angsty / SMUTTY / 18+ / NSFW / MATURE**

“What got into you,” finally asked Clara, when the tension became unbearable to handle. Her eyes were on Doctor watching him to pace around the console panel, mumbling something under his breath that she couldn’t quite catch. His movements sharp and precise, pulling levers and pressing buttons with unnecessary force. His body stiff and his hands moving sporadically, while he paced quickly around the panel not saying even a single word to her.

That's a first. Thought Clara, while biting her lower lip. Carefully observing the usually cheerful Doctor who was visibly brooding.

She could sense how his somehow bad mood radiated from him and it took her by surprise. She could basically hear his teeth clenching, while he tried to keep quiet, sensing how his body shook from the unexpected emotions. Emotions she couldn’t quite recognise. Emotions he tried stubbornly to suppress by not speaking with her, and only occasionally casting a grim glances at her before turning away. “Did I do something?” questioned Clara, worrying when he didn’t reply. Worrying that she offended him in some way that she didn’t realise.

He noticed how she caught her bottom lip between her teeth anxiously. The nervous habit of hers. He noted. The habit that he noticed was driving him crazy. And no matter how hard he tried to deny this, it made his blood boil and his hearts thump harder. He swore quietly under his breath when he caught her stare at him with this big wide doe like eyes whole of confusion. Her bottom lip trembling slightly, tucked between her teeth in a most adorable way possible. And he could feel how his resolve broke by uttering the only response he could master.

“You are late.”

“What?” asked Clara taken aback by his unusually low and sharp voice with a deliciously dark notes in it. The notes she never noticed in his voice before.

“You are late,” repeated Doctor taking a deep breath, finally stopping to pace and leaning forward on the console panel. His hands pressed flat against its surface. His head lowered and the bang of his hairs hanging over his eyes. He could feel something what he didn’t feel in a very long time. Something what he shouldn’t have been feeling to his companion... his friend. Something what he could name with one single word. Jealousy.

Yes, he was jealous. And it was pointless to deny it. This is why he kept quiet, trying to ignore Clara. Trying to ignore the pang of jealousy he felt when he landed near to her house a half an hour earlier to pick her up, only to be a witness of how she let some other guy to kiss her on the corner of her lips before she awkwardly waved him goodbye.

“Sorry... kind of lost track of time,” she murmured lowering her gaze to the floor drowning her lip even further into her mouth, making him groan quietly from the gesture.

The truth be told she didn’t lost track of time as the guy she went on on a blind date was boring as hell. To be honest it was even quit the opposite as she counted every second till this awful date would come to the end, but she couldn’t just up and leave. Or could she?

She questioned, while thinking about the Doctor and how he possibly already waited for her as he did every Wednesday evening at seven o’clock sharp, while the date was dragging on and on till it was already past the time. And when he kissed her on the corner of her lips she froze on the spot in shock before rushing toward the Doctor, who had strolled into his TARDIS not even looking at her. And now he was angry... The angriest she ever seen him to be.

Or was it something else? she wondered watching him to meet her gaze before mumbling something and looking away. His brows furrowed and his lips dragged into a frown.

“Yes, I gathered it,” he seethed, when she asked him what did he said. His hand angrily pulling on the lever while another slamming on the console with a loud thump. Causing TARDIS to hum something grumpily before Doctor murmured an apology, gently dragging his hand over the surface. Clara's eyes widened and she strolled toward him, grubbing his arm and forcing him to face her. Feeling how her own blood started to boil from the way he acted as if she did something wrong.

“Doctor, what did you mean, you gathered it?” she asked, her voice raising on a few octaves while feeling rather frustrated that he turned his back to her again not able or not wanting to meet her eyes.

“Nothing.”

“Doctor?” huffed Clara.

“Do you really want to know, what is wrong?” cried out Doctor, swirling at the spot to face Clara, watching her to nod as if she truly didn’t have any idea. As if it wasn’t obvious how much it hurt him to watch her to move on with her life, letting him to be in it only one single day... one Wednesday per week. Watch her to go out on a blind date with some random guy and letting him to kiss her, when he couldn’t. Wait for her day after day, jumping from one Wednesday to another just for her to be late because she lost track of time... and feel unreasonable jealousy just because she doesn't think of him as much as he did about her.

“Yes, Doctor. I want to know. I need to know,” she pleaded, her voice thick from emotions. So many possibilities of what could have happened to make him angry. Was it her past, or her future? What did she do to the only man in the whole universe she couldn’t stop thinking about? To the only man in a whole universe, whose lips she craved to be pressed to hers taking her breath away. To the only man in a whole universe who was worth counting every second until their next meeting. She could feel how her heartbeats elevated, and she waited for him to speak with a bated breath.

“Do you? Do you really want to know?” seethed Doctor, hovering over Clara's petite frame. He was standing so close now that his hot breath caressed her soft skin as her lips parted readying reply. His eyes flickered to them, and before she could even master a sound, his lips crushed onto hers kissing her deeply. His tongue slipping past her lips meeting hers just for a briefest of moments before they pulled away panting. Their cheeks flushed and their lips swollen from the force of their short-lived but passionate kiss.

“You kissed me,” exclaimed Clara. Her rosy lips parted, forming a perfectly shaped “o”. Her eyes widened in confusion and shock meeting Doctor’s matching bewildered expression, who raised his arms covering himself, ready for a slap that never came. Meanwhile trying to find a perfect excuse for his action, but instead only able to mumble: “You were late.”

“Yes... yes, I was,” agreed Clara, taking a step forward toward the Doctor who hastily stepped back. His mind working with an extra speed trying to look for anything to say, but failing. “Do you know why I was late?” tentatively asked Clara, realisation slowly started to sink in, why he may acted so weird since the moment he picked her up so she took another step closer. “Did you see why I was late?” she asked, standing straight in front of the Doctor with him pressed against the console panel, swallowing hard. His anger dissipated, but the jealousy didn’t go away just got mixed up with the nervousness of the situation and the fact that she seemed in control of it now.

“Yes, I...,” Doctor cleared his throat nervously, tugging at his bow tie, feeling a heat of Clara’s body, watching how her brow raised studying him with curiosity.

“Well, Doctor? Did you probably get jealous of me being late because I was on a date?” she helped with suggestion. A devilish smirk now playing on her lips, while her heart was pounding inside her chest waiting for his reply. Her gaze not leaving his, watching how his eyes slightly widened as he tried to make a run for it, slipping from her and mumbling that they needed to go. Some places to see. Some people to meet.

Suddenly, he felt her gentle hand placed on his forearm, stopping him from starting to fumble with buttons and levers again. Making him to lean on the console panel while his gaze became hidden behind the flop of his hairs. Hands flat on the console, gaze dropped to the floor, and voice huskier and lower than she ever heard him to speak.

“Yes... yes, Clara, I did in fact seen your blind date... but no I...”

“Doctor...,” said Clara.

“But no I... I wasn't jealous. No... Not jealous at all, just...,” stubbornly said Doctor, trying to suppress the jealousy that he still felt. Still not daring to look at Clara. Feeling, that if he would she would easily crack his lie. He shook his head in disbelief of how easily the lie slipped from his tongue, not hearing her to call for him. His thoughts fumbled one over another, and she could hear him to gulp nervously, while he continued to speak.

“Just concerned...,” said Doctor still standing near to the petite girl who so easily inflicted the feelings he didn't think were even possible for him to feel. The powerful feelings that still made his blood boil from the single thought that she allowed some guy she just met kiss her. “Concerned about your safety. You... you just met the guy and he...he can be anyone... some alien for example. His kiss could have poisoned you for all you know.”

“Doctor,” Clara called louder the warning in her voice finally picking Doctor’s attention.

“What?” he asked, daring a quick sideway glance at Clara under the flop of his hairs.

“Doctor, how do you know that this was a blind date? Did you spied on me?” she gasped from even slightest idea that he did, not sure if this made her happy or furious... or both at once.

“No, no... I... I didn’t,” Doctor’s eyes widened. “I just...”

“What Doctor? You what?” Uttered Clara raising her voice and stepping away from him in disbelief.

“I just... I was getting impatient, so I came earlier and seen you leave for that date. You even didn’t notice me,” he said accusingly. “And it was clear from the way you acted that you even didn’t know the guy. You was all fidgety and... and blushing constantly,” Doctor spun to face Clara, storming toward her.

“Doctor, how do you know this was a blind date? It could be simply a first date...”

“I... I...,” tried Doctor.

“Did you gone through my messages?” gasped Clara, taking another step back with disbelief. Her body suddenly trapped between rails of the platform and Doctor's body, his hands catching hers preventing her from tipping over. And she suddenly got very much aware of his hot elevated breath on her lips.

“No,” exclaimed Doctor offended by the assumption, trying to push away the sudden urge to shut her mouth with the kiss. The single thought of her thinking that he would do something like that made him angry. “I seen your chat with Linda," explained Doctor. "Seen that you have agreed to meet this guy, when I was showing you a rock that looked like Strax's potato head. I seen how you texted him to meet today. You clearly was more fascinated and keen for this date, than to spend time with me,” said Doctor. His eyes dropped to her lips trying to overcome temptation to kiss her. His knuckles grazed against her cheek, feeling how her breath hitched. “Also why did you even take your phone with you? Are you so bored with me showing you around?” the change in Doctor's tone took her by surprise. It wasn't angry anymore, or nervous. It was... sad? like when you are about to loose something very dear to you, something what you already lost and just realising it.

“Doctor, were you jealous? Are you jealous?” asked Clara again, holding her breath while waiting for his reply. Bracing herself for her heart to be broken.

It took couple of minutes longer for Doctor finally to meet her gaze as if deciding on something. As if contemplating if truth would be to dangerous to tell or if it would be worth it after all. And with a deep low husky voice he finally did it, admitted what she wanted to hear, admitted the truth.

“Yes, Clara. I was jealous... I'm jealous,” he confessed with the sigh, not able to lie to her anymore.

“Kiss me,” whispered Clara, tiptoeing toward him. Her eyes on his, while their lips became only a breath away. So close to him that he couldn't resist the temptation. 

His lips touched hers tentatively at first, hesitantly. And he felt how electricity coursed through him, making his two hearts speed up their temp. Her taste was like something long forgotten, like distant memory from another life. Like Gallifrey's sunshine, sweet and bitter, like morning's coffee and honeydew melon and it drew him even more to her. Making him dip deeper, attacking her lips vigorously again and again, deepening their kiss and kissing her more desperately, moaning and groaning into their kiss. The one she returned fully matching his passion. Her fingers dug into his hair bringing him closer to her, passion for passion, desire for desire. And they couldn't stop even if the whole army of Daleks and Cybermen combined would appear at the doorstops of TARDIS and would demand to give them his true name. They couldn't stop as the passion was too much to stop now, while the words of love were swirling on the tips of their tongues, while they met in the passionate tango, to the pace of their lips colliding together. 

Doctor's hands slid along Clara's petite frame effortlessly lifting her up and sitting on the console. Her legs opened up to accommodate him. The desire that Doctor's jealousy and Clara's unfortunate date spurred so easily inside both of them finally freeing them from the fear and hesitation. Their kisses and touches are more bold and desperate. Both wanting so much more... both needing so much more.

Clara could feel how Doctor's hands moved up her legs opening them even wider, searching for a closer contact with her, while the heels of her legs dig into his back. They could hear how the fabric of her very tight skirt teared, but they both couldn't care less about that. Both desperate for even less clothing to separate them.

Taking that as an opportunity to get Clara out of her clothes, Doctor broke their kiss. His lips moving to the pulse point at her neck, sucking on it gently, but with precision that definitely would leave a purple mark on her sensitive skin. His tongue gently licked over the mark soothing her, making her suck in the breath, while her head lolled back with a delicious moan. His hands moving to the tear in her skirt, tearing it even further and letting it drop to the floor. His fingers hooking at the waistband of her tights pulling them vigorously down not caring for a slightest if they will remain intact. He kissed and bit her neck moving lower, making her moan and gasp every time his mouth or teeth grazed her skin. She thrusted her hips toward him, trying so desperately not to loose contact with something so hard and big pressed to her thigh, that she was sure as all hells in that and others worlds, that it wasn't his sonic screwdriver. The realisation that it is him so big and hard against her made her almost undone on the spot as specially when his long delicate finger slid beneath her panties. His thumb pressed firmly to her nub rubbing gentle but insistent circles over it, while another thrusted inside her dripping pussy making the scream mixed with moan leave her throat.

The sounds he elicited from her made him groan in desperation and the feeling of her juices on his fingers made him work on her with doubled effort, wanting nothing more that to feel her juices drip on his fingers.

“You are so wet,” he gasped against her skin, his lips moving up her throat. And he cupped her cheek with his hand, while pressing his forehead against hers. His lips just a fraction away while he whispered sweet nothings into her moans, helping her climb higher and higher to her heights until she couldn't hold it anymore. His thumb circling over her nub, his long delicate finger joined by another, working her faster and faster, kissing her sweet lips, swallowing the maddening sounds she made.

He could feel how her walls were clenching around his fingers, and he broke the kiss gazing into her darken eyes. His vision blurred by desire as he dropped to his knees wanting nothing more than to prolong her pleasure and to taste her. He kneeled in front of her like she was some Goddess of old times. His gaze meeting hers and holding it, while his hands dragged her panties down her legs, not able to keep his moan to himself when his tongue slide over her lower lips, dipping in just slightly and tasting her. The taste is even more amplified by her pleasure and reminds him of home. Of something that was lost so long ago. Of something for what he was looking desperately and finally found in the woman who was moaning his name. The name he had chosen as a promise. Doctor. Doctor. Doctor.

He could hear her chanting it over and over, moaning and groaning it until it became too much to hold any longer. The crescendo of screams falling from her lips, while he was lapping at her dripping juices, drinking her nectar. He could feel how her legs tensed, starting to tremble, and he could see how her hands held into the rails of the console gripping it tightly. Her knuckles white and her head thrown back while the most powerful orgasm rolled over her again and again. He was licking her gently guiding her through it until he could feel how her trembling subsided, licking her for the last time, savouring her taste, before standing up.

His eyes fixed on her while he watched her catch the breath, his fingers toyed with the top button of her blouse, while she wrapped her legs around his waist pulling him toward her, feeling how his impossibly huge and hard length press into her thigh before he kissed her gently with a kiss, that held a promise. A promise, that he made her once upon a time: to give in, and now he was finally ready to held his promise.

[twixtandshout]

Tagged by @pidgeonpostal! And not tagging anyone else because I have SOILED the original template (soiled it!!) in deference to my [brushes off skirt] mostly clean public-facing appearance.

...I’ve been making a lot of Spongebob memes lately for someone who has not seen Spongebob.

How many works do you have on AO3?

71!

What’s your total AO3 wordcount?

...306,834. Jesus.

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Uh. Many! I do a lot of one-offs (and/or start long things I never finish) in many different places. My top three fandoms by fics written are RWBY (29), Undertale (25), Gravity Falls/Transcendence AU (4).

Bet you can’t tell where my hyperfixations have fallen. 

I’ve also got some Pokémon and Sonic the Hedgehog fics back on my ff.net account, or I think I still do, anyway, but let’s never go back there pls

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1. Sweeter Than Honey (Undertale): Taking a Completely unsurprising first place, with over 600 more kudos than the runner-up, the haphazard Underswap fic featuring a post-college self-insert I wrote just after high school! I shake my head some at how overblown and ridiculous the gap between this and all my other stuff is (c’mon, guys, I’ve written way better fics), but this is also the fic which prompted me (and at least one other person!) to start using they/them pronouns. I’ve gotten a lot of really sweet comments about how seen and appreciated it’s made people feel, so I can’t get down too far about it.

2. To Be A Hero (BNHA): I don’t count myself as part of the BNHA fandom, for a number of reasons, but for something that’s arguably the main motivation for the entire plot, Midoriya’s quirklessness is something I’ve never thought has been handled well. This fic marked the first time I (somewhat tentatively) claimed the disability label (thanks again to Sweeter Than for prompting that realization) to hold that lens over canon. It also really shot up my chart, dang! It’s the only thing here I’d consider “recent.”

3. Three-Sentence Shipping (Undertale): Self-explanatory.

4. Brothers Beyond Bonedaries (Undertale): Ah, the way-overcomplicated AU³ I got nowhere close to finishing. One of the things I really like about Undertale is the interface screw, how Toby Fox uses the medium of the video game to pull off crazy things and enhance his game, but most of the fic written for the fandom seems dedicated to explaining it away, grounding it, rather than taking it to the next step and messing with the medium of fanfiction when you keep the story going. I tried to do something cool like that here, playing with questions like narrator and authorship and breaking the fourth wall, even taking the “final boss” fight to a “totally separate” fic reached through the first by link – but, well, then I never finished it, which probably didn’t make anything less confusing for the poor folks who missed the intent.

5. Spirit and Such (Gravity Falls: Transcendence AU): A whole fic written to line out a particular image I had, which, naturally, never made it to the page. I consider it a bit of a cautionary tale for myself when it comes to writing (near-)original content; there’s a lot I look back on and cringe. I still love the characters, though – well, the important ones – and I think just stepping away from the tried-and-true Mizar formula nets it a star sticker here.

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

>w>; I try, but a lot of the time I just don’t have anything to say? Like, oh, you liked it? Neat. There’s not much to respond to in comments like that, and then I’m weighing falling down on an ~obligation~ to respond to every message in my inbox vs annoying people with copy-paste fluff responses all down the page. Plus I know I make more of an effort to comment on things that didn’t get the attention I feel they deserve, so if I’m driving up my own comment count with nonsense, am I preventing myself from being in a position to receive more comments later? And then if I do comment, am I being too effusive or running people’s ears off explaining things they don’t actually need to know? Sometimes people just want to express interest or admiration and don’t necessarily want a whole peek and guided tour behind the curtain.

Can you tell I have anxiety? x3;

Anyway, I do respond when I can. And I keep most of the comments I’ve gotten to go back and reread. 

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Hm, hmm. Lots of stuff in the TQ Nonsense series would probably qualify! I’m thinking of Unfixable, Wolfsong, and Ethanol. And there’s Bursting Through A Blood-Red Sky (I Can Live, I Can Breathe), of course, but that was always intended to have a fix-it epilogue. It’s just that I wrote it in a couple of hours day-of, stared at it, and decided I didn’t wanna just then. But now that’s As Long As You’re Still Burning Bright (I’m Still Awake), and that’s probably the best romance I’ve written, so that one worked out.

Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve ever written?

Now and then! When the urge strikes. Uhhh, I’ve got a series of Doctor Who x Undertale crossovers I actually made a whole dang verse for that never made it to print. Get a couple great comments on that every few months or so. I think the World Trigger x Undertale crossover is probably weirder, though, by virtue of WT being a very small fandom. My enthusiasm kinda sputtered out on that one.

Mostly I just daydream crossovers with whatever happens to catch my eye at any given moment. I have a lot!!!! Though odds are out on whether I manage to remember any of them once the initial thought’s passed, lol.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Gotten a couple eyebrow-raising comments, but I think mostly I’m just too small a writer to draw that kind of attention.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don’t? think so? Think my tastes are a little niche for most people to bother ^^;

Have you ever had a fic translated?

I had someone apologize once for any language mistakes in their comment cause they had to run it through a translator! That’s not what you asked (the answer is no), but it’s very flattering to think that someone liked my fic enough to read and comment despite the language barrier.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes! :D @pidgeonpostal was gracious enough to agree to co-write Five Nights at Denny’s with me off an idea about shoes. This has fulfilled a long-held dream of mine (collabing with someone, not the shoes) and also introduced me to some lovely people.

What’s your all time favorite ship?

Who has time for just one? ;3c Honestly, I care more about the characters and how the relationship – any relationship – between them changes them than I do about ~A Ship~ as a solid, bounded noun-object. I’ve got characters I like more and less and feelings about who does and doesn’t have chemistry in which directions with whom, but finding anything that agrees with those preferences is hard, harder when you take alloromanticism into account. I’ll play in any sandbox with cool toys, especially if other folks have already built sick sandcastles there.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

[kicks every single unfinished fic further under the bed] What nooo no WIPs here, everything on my account is either finished or does not exist

I’ve got a couple extra chapters of Sweeter Than floating around unposted, but 1. that fic’s a mess 2. high school Twixt and post-college Twixt are different people and trying to contort myself into three other me-shapes just cause people Like this fic is not something I’m super interested in 3. it’s headed for an emotional dip and I’d rather leave it where it is than post two chapters, stall out again, and leave folks with a bad end.

As for other fics... it’s looking more and more likely that v7 of my Yellow Brick Road AU will never actually make it out. >w>; I’ve got some really great ideas, but not enough to make me feel like I know what I’m doing, and that’s a big roadblock. Plus trying to engage with RT’s Atlas-Mantle worldbuilding in any serious capacity is... a headache. I can’t recommend the Happy Huntress Cinematic Universe enough, but it leaves some pretty big shoes to follow! And I’ve got small feet. <w<;

What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue’s fun, probably as an extension of characterization. I love tearing into what makes people tick, especially against the backdrop of their environment, the story they’re in, and the people they’re up against. Voice is a double-edged sword; I’ve been told my writing is really recognizable and individual, but on the other hand, I’ve been growing frustrated with with the limits of my narrative ability. There’s a strong rhythm I keep when I write (you might notice it here, even) but that leaves me feeling predictable and stale. I’m not sure I’m great at setting as a matter of course, but I’m pretty good at describing setpieces where the need comes up; that comes from my background in poetry, as does the fun I have with sublimating and abstracting complex imagery. And I think I bring some needed nuance to the universal. For good or ill, I don’t do what “everyone else” is doing.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Well, writing, for one thing. If I don’t know how something’s going to go and don’t have the urge to write it, it isn’t getting done, which means there’s a billion things that will never see the page and a few hundred more that are never getting finished. I lose momentum easily and have a hard time getting started, and I put way too much standing on finding a foothold with other people; as critical as I am of my work, I have high expectations for the stuff that passes muster, and it never seems to measure up. I’m also really uncreative. Yeah, I can mix up elements and extrapolate events, but coming up with things wholesale is really hard, which is why I avoid it wherever possible and steal/reskin stuff from other places instead.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Something along the lines of “Hoo boy, I am Not qualified for this but hopefully it’s decent anyway.” Maria’s Spanish lines haven’t been a big deal – I’ve used it sparingly and, as a Latin language, it should be easy for English-speaking audiences to pick up on the gist – but I’ve had a harder time with Tai’s Chinese, both because I have Even Less background there and because it is, of course, an entirely different language system. If I write it out in English or Romanized italics, am I colonizing it or changing the meaning? If I write it out in the presumed-original characters (presumed because it’s Google Translate and who knows if I’m even barking in the right forest), am I confusing or alienating my presumed-majority-English-speaking audience? Where should I put the translations? Should I put the translations? And for Frisk’s sign language, thinking back, are the brackets I used instead of quotes alienating/infantilizing? I like that different characters give the text between a different feel, but I’m not an ASL speaker – and I’m pretty sure the word is “speaker,” which would only reinforce that that demographic would rather I didn’t do that. It’s important for all these characters, I think, that they use non-English language where it makes sense; it’s part of who they are. But as a white monolingual English-speaker, I don’t think I can really weigh in.

What was the first fandom you ever wrote for?

Thaaaat’d be Pokémon, followed closely with Sonic the Hedgehog. Whether those fics are still on my ff.net account or not (pretty sure I’ve purged them, but you never know) I’ve still got a couple saved to a folder on my current laptop, ostensibly so I can look back and see how far I’ve come and more practically to allow for the possibility of furthering group cohesion through public shaming.

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

I still like the idea behind The Man Who Is Atlas, and Burning Bright (Still Awake) gets props for being my current fic, though it’s currently in that spot where I’m excited to get new chapters posted but also quietly marking everything up in red pen. I think Harbinger gets the crown here, at least for now.