#tma wall-e au

[ollieofthebeholder]

WIP Snippet Game!

I was tagged by @blasphemous-lies-and-deceit with the words hide, walk, flavor, fabric, and ultimate. Thanks for the tag!

Hide: From to find promise of peace (and the solace of rest)

They’re in, so far as he can tell, a completely open field. There are no trees, no statues, no fences. Hell, it suddenly hits him that they’ve been climbing a hill, and that they’re probably standing at the highest point in the park, which would be dangerous if there was a thunderstorm going on but isn’t so dangerous when it’s just rain. The point, though, is that there’s nowhere for Martin to hide, no way they could possibly have lost him. And yet, when he spins around, nearly losing his balance in the wet grass, he can’t see Martin. He can’t see anything.

Walk: From the untitled TMA Tim time travel AU:

“I don’t need a fucking ambulance.” Tim clenches his fists. He’s still aching all over, but not in a way he thinks emergency medicine will help, and he can walk just fine. Paramedics won’t come to the Institute anyway. “You need something,” Jon says firmly. “All right, if you won’t go to hospital, what about that clinic up the road? But, Tim, if they say you need to go to the A&E—” “I’ll take him,” the woman promises. “Can you manage alone for an hour or so?” Jon gestures vaguely around him. “I don’t think it’s going to make much difference one way or another,” he says dryly. Tim barks out a bitter, sarcastic laugh. “About time you gave into the futility, boss. Try not to suck anyone’s soul out while we’re gone.” Jon looks genuinely taken aback by that, but Tim’s already storming towards the door without another word, and the woman scurries to catch up. They walk—or in Tim’s case, stalk—the four blocks to the clinic in silence. Tim’s been before, twice that he recalls, once in his early days in Research when he found what he thought was someone’s missing cat but quickly turned out to be a disgruntled badger and once right after taking the Archives job when he accidentally cut himself on that thing on Elias’ desk and the bleeding wouldn’t stop, so he knows the way. The air is crisp and cool, the sky leaden grey, and the sidewalks are virtually deserted, not that that’s at all unusual for a weekday. What pisses Tim off, somewhat unreasonably, is that it’s all normal.

Flavor: Funnily enough, this word does not show up once in a single one of my WIPs.

Fabric: From "Candle in the Water", a Star Trek AOS/TOS crossover fic I started years ago and may not ever finish:

"It's all right, Ensign." Kirk stepped down from the platform. As he did so, he happened to glance down at his outfit. Rather than the greenish-gold wrap shirt that had been standardized across Starfleet earlier that year for captains, he was wearing a standard gold shirt, but the fabric was slightly patterned. The rank stripes on the cuff were right for a captain, but they were straight rather than wavy, and silver rather than gold. This was not his uniform. Sudden misgiving struck him and he glanced up at the wall, but it was blank. So. Not the mirror universe they had encountered a few months previously, but an alternate reality nonetheless.

Ultimate: From one of the spinoffs of leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall), an alternate spinoff where Melanie also traveled backwards in time:

For the first time in…however long it’s been since she came back, she wonders if she’s the difference. If knowing more before she went to India could have prevented the Apocalypse somehow. If her choices were ultimately the ones that doomed Jon, and subsequently the world.

My words: star, hope, green, watch, and thread!

Tagging @fridayyy-13th, @amberastra, @franzis-frantic-thoughts, @selkiestars, and anyone else who wants to give it a go! Come ye forth and shamelessly plug your WIPs!

[pomeg-glitch]

oh my god it’s friggin bots. i love wall-e

[ID: a coloured sketch of Martin and Jon from The Magnus Archives as WALL-E and EVE, respectively, drawn in a chibi-ish style. Martin is looking to the side with one hand raised, expression curious/neutral. Jon has one hand on what could be considered a hip, looking rather disgruntled. The background is plain white. End description.]

[faunrasthewinterelf]

WALL-E AU Jon is Eve and is a curious little floaty not that wants to scan everything and know everything, and Martin is WALL-E with all his ‘fascinating’ things, and pet spider instead of a pet cockroach and big sad eyes that look at J0n, who finds Mar-71n very endearing

[smellingofpoetry]

Normal Again

Characters: Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, John Winchester, Benny Lafitte, Castiel

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: "The first time it happened had felt like a bad nightmare."

Square/s Filled: "Dean Winchester" (TMAS Bingo - @supernatural-jackles), Hospital AU (@anyfandomaubingo)

Warnings: mention of mental illness, mental hospital, pills, angst, nightmares, hurt, sadness, mention of smut, mention of nudity, mention of the series finale

Rating: +18

Words count: 3708

Beta: endlesswanted

A/N:  Hello there! It has been a while since my last story, unfortunately, I'm quite busy at the moment so my writing had slowed down. I had this story in mind for quite some time and I've finally been able to finish it. I was inspired by an episode of Buffy, I don't know if some of you watched it or not, but I always loved that one in particular. This story talks about some delicate subject, so I totally understand if some of you would prefer to skip it. I did my best with the warnings, but feel free to let me know if I missed something. That being said, let me know what you think about the story and I hope you'll appreciate it. Enjoy! 🖤

Dean Winchester Masterlist - Masterlist

The first time it happened had felt like a bad nightmare. It wasn’t even the worst he had in all those years, and nothing really had happened. It was just him sitting on a bed in an almost empty room, but he could feel this heaviness on his chest.

He could feel his own fear.

The worst part was how real that nightmare had felt. He had become quite good at shaking his bad dreams off, but this one was different. He could still feel it deep down on his bones even hours later.

Once the feeling went away, he blamed it on the hunt he had just done and moved on until more dreams found their way to him. He kept quiet, deciding to deal with them on his own. It wasn’t his first bad dream, but then he started to have them even when he was wide awake. He had one of them even while working a case and if he hadn’t snapped out of it the moment he did he would have probably lost her.

That night, once they were back, he all but hid in his room until she made her way to him. She sat down next to him without saying a word. Her small hand grabbed his, lacing their fingers together. Dean closed his eyes while the guilt came back in full force.

“Talk to me, De.”

He sighed hearing her pleading tone, knowing full well he couldn’t keep to himself what was happening, not anymore.

“I’m having these dreams. I don’t even know if I can call them that anymore.”

Y/N looked up at him, confusion was written all over her face. He bit down on his lip, trying to figure out how to explain what was happening to him when he wasn’t really sure himself.

“They started like dreams, but now I’m having them even when I’m not sleeping.”

“And you were having one of those while we were hunting?”

Dean nodded his head, feeling his eyes sting a bit. She got a bit closer then, holding his hand a bit tighter.

“What are they like?”

“They feel so real, like pieces – missing pieces.”

“Of what?”

“Someone’s story.”

“Whose?”

“Mine.”

“No, please. I don’t want them anymore. Please –”

Dean whimpered, trying to push himself against the wall as much as he could to get away from them.

“No more, please.”

One of the nurses bent on his knees, sighing in defeat.

“Don’t make it even harder, man.”

Dean backed away a bit more when the door of his room opened, and the doctor came in. He signaled the two nurses to leave them alone, and Dean waited for them to get out before glancing toward the doctor.

“Did you take your pills, Dean?”

He looked down then, shaking his head while he hugged his legs closer to his chest.

“They’re for your own good.”

“But I don’t want them.”

“Alright, we’re going to worry about that later. For now, you have a visit.”

Dean's interests peeked up at that, so he glanced at the doctor again before shifting his eyes towards the door. A few seconds later two figures came into the room, making Dean’s eyes go wide with surprise.

“Hey, son.”

His dad tried to smile, but Dean’s attention was already focused on the other person who waved at him, unsure.

“Sammy?”

“Hey, Dean.”

“You’re back?”

“For a little while, yeah.”

The doctor waved to John, signaling to both go outside.

“Why don’t we give them some time, uhm?”

Y/N moved on the bed to face him this time. He was worried and, somehow, that wasn’t even the right definition to describe him, but she knew to have never seen him that upset.

“What happens in these dreams?”

Dean swallowed, trying to avoid her eyes as best as he could, which ended up worrying her even more. He closed his eyelids for a few seconds, not sure he had in him the courage to tell her. 

“It’s bad, Y/N.”

“Nothing of what you’re going to tell me will make me look at you differently.”

He raised his eyes and the moment they landed on her he knew that she was telling the truth. So, he nodded, and taking a deep breath he let her know.

“I’m in this place – a hospital.”

Y/N tightened her grip on his hand. Fear was starting to creep on her, but she kept her mouth shut giving him all the time he needed to speak on his terms, even though all that wait was going to kill her.

“I’m there to be treated because I –” he paused to take a deep breath.

“I think I’m sick.”

Why was her heart beating so fast for a stupid dream? Maybe if he wasn’t so terrified then maybe she could have relaxed a bit.

“But they’re treating you, so that’s a good thing, right?”

Y/N desperately searched his eyes, trying to find reassurance but the moment Dean looked at her she knew it was worse than she was picturing it.

“The hospital –”

“Yeah?”

“– it’s a mental hospital, Y/N.”

They were sitting on the floor with their backs on the wall, and suddenly it seemed to be back to when they were just kids, and they spent their summer nights talking to each other about their future.

“Are you here to take me home?”

Sam’s heart cracked a bit under the weight of his big brother's question. To be honest, he couldn’t tell what hurt more between his words and the lost look on his face.

“I’m afraid I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because you have to get better first.”

Dean frowned, glancing down at his pale gown. He tried to process his little brother's words but sometimes it was so hard to concentrate on something.

“But I don’t like it here.”

“I know you don’t.”

“What if – what if I take my medicine and promise to be good, will you let me come back to the bunker, then?”

Dean looked at his brother, while Sam seemed to be confused by the question.

“The bunker?”

“Yeah, home.”

Sam frown deepened, not sure what he was talking about let alone know what to say to him.

“Dean, there’s no bunker.”

“Yes, there is. That’s where we live, me and you.”

Dean shook his head with force while slowly getting up. Sam sighed, getting up too but smart enough to not get too close to him to not upset him even more.

“No, we’re not, Dean. you’ve been here for a few years now, remember? While I live in California where I went to college.”

“No, no, you left college after Jessica died and we – we –”

Sam took a step forward; hands raised in surrender to let him know he didn’t want to hurt him in any way.

“Jessica is not dead; she lives with me in California. I already told you that last time we saw each other.”

Dean shook his head, pacing inside the small room trying to make sense of his foggy thoughts.

“No, no, you’re lying. I thought you were on my side.”

“And I’m, Dean.”

“Then why are you lying?”

He shouted, stopping in the middle of the room to look at Sam, who stood still watching him helplessly. Dean stared at him with teary eyes, waiting for him to say that it was just a stupid mistake.

“Say something, damn it!”

“I’m sorry, Dean.”

“No, you’re not. You’re just like everybody else. You’re just trying to find a new reason to leave me again.”

He was about to take a step forward when two strong arms took hold of him. The nurse tried to calm him down, leading him towards the bed.

“Alright, calm down now.”

“No! Leave me alone!”

Sam got a bit closer, wanting to do something to help him but not knowing what he was supposed to do in a situation like that.

“Please, let him go. We were just talking. We just – I – please.”

But the nurse ignored him, taking a syringe from one of his pockets and pushing the needle inside Dean’s arm.

“No! No! Please, no! Sammy, please. Tell them it’s not a lie, please. She can’t be a lie – she can’t!”

“Who?”

Dean slowed down his movements while the nurse secured him to the bed. He stood still, staring at the ceiling. A small tear rolled down his cheek.

“Y/N –”

Y/N tried to push down the lump in her throat but the scared look on Dean’s face made her panic rise.

“We have had worst nightmares, why is this one having such an effect on you?”

Dean glanced in her direction, gnawing the inside of his cheek. He sighed, knowing she had the right to know.

“Because it feels real – too real.”

Y/N frowned at his words. All their nightmares felt real, she knew that well enough. So, she also knew there was more to it than he was telling her.

“What are you trying to tell me?”

He rubbed at his tired eyes with his fingertips, hanging low his head.

“It’s starting to become hard to say what’s real and what’s not.”

“When did all of this start?”

“It started after the last witch hunt.”

Y/N got up from the bed, pacing the room trying to think of the best way to deal with this new situation. She stopped in her tracks after a few seconds before heading to the door.

“Alright, I’m going to wake up Sam and we’re going to figure out what’s happening.”

“Y/N –”

She turned around at the sound of her name, trying to pretend she was keeping it cool but his next words made her waver.

“Yeah?”

“I feel like I’m already slipping.”

Dean stood still staring at the ceiling for what felt like hours. His wrists and ankles were still secured to the bed, and yet he could feel Sam’s presence next to him, but he hadn’t had the strength to do much more than stare at the wall and think of her.

How could people think she was a lie?

Something is mind created?

Something not real?

She felt so real to him.

Even now, watching a damn wall, he could remember every single detail of her, from the sound of her voice to the colors of her eyes or the dimples on her cheeks. He could still remember how it felt to kiss her and be kissed by her, the softness of her skin under his hands, the weight of her body pressed against his, her warmth welcoming him.

And her smile – oh, that damn smile of hers.

He could still remember the way she made him feel every time he laid between her arms. She made him feel wanted.

So, how could all of that have been just a trick of his mind?

“She cannot be just a dream –”

Sam shifted in his seat at the sound of his brother's voice. For a minute he got really scared there, so he spent the last hour watching over him, just in case. He moved forward just a bit, being careful to not startle him.

“Tell me about her.”

At that question Dean’s lips curved upwards before his eyes went in search of his little brother, finding him right where he had left him.

“Y/N is – she is smart, like really smart. And loyal, one hell of a hunter, and a real pain in my ass sometimes.”

Sam chuckled at that, making Dean smile too.

“She’s also the kindest person I’ve ever known.”

“How did you two meet?”

“You know that story, Sam. You were there.”

Sam smiled sadly, nodding his head in approval. Of course, he was there, he should have known. It warmed Sam’s heart to know that he was in every one of Dean’s stories, even though they didn’t really spend that much time together anymore. So, it made sense for him to be there too. Sam patted Dean’s knees, trying to play along if that meant he could have his brother back for five more minutes.

“Yeah, I know, but I want to hear it anyway.”

“It was during a hunt. Bobby sent her as a backup, and I might have tried some of my moves on her once the job was done.”

“Did they work?”

“Hell no!”

They ended up laughing at that, with Sam studying Dean’s face who seemed to be lost miles away from where they were.

“So, how did you two end up together?”

Dean went back to stare at the ceiling, hoping he could see her again between all that white.

“It’s stupid.”

Sam smiled, thinking that surely couldn’t have been more stupid than talking with his brother about an imaginary girl. At that point, stupid was overestimated.

“I’ll decide that.”

“She held my hand when I was at my worst, and she never did let go ever since then.”

Y/N and Sam were looking for an explanation for what was happening to Dean, but they were going blind, which made everything even harder.

She rubbed her heavy eyes, feeling the tiredness catching up with her. Sighing she closed the tenth book of the last hours before getting up.

“I’m going to check on Dean.” She announced Sam, who simply nodded his head without stopping to read the page ha was focusing on. She couldn’t really blame him. They were running out of time, and of books for that matter.

She walked along the corridor until she reached Dean’s room. He was where she left him a few hours prior, on his lap a bunch of photos. Y/N closed the door behind her, leaning against it.

“None of the things that happened here had happened there, except for mom. That happened there too, and I think it was the first crack in my – in his mind. Then Sam went away, and I think he just – he just let go.”

Dean trailed off, gazing at one of the pictures he had in his hand while Y/N remained silent, not sure what to say to make him feel better, which hurt her more than she was ready to admit.

“Dad is still alive, and so does Jessica. Sam is close to becoming a lawyer. Cass apparently is my doctor and Benny’s one of the nurses at the hospital. The only one who’s nice enough.”

“So, no demons or angels, or any kind of monsters?”

“No, nothing like that.”

“And every person you’ve met here is there too?”

Dean sighed, putting aside the photos he was still holding.

“Everyone, but one –”

Y/N frowned, tilting her head to the side like that would have helped her to understand better. They stared at each other for a few seconds when finally she understood.

“Everyone but me.”

Dean nodded, watching her lowering her gaze to try to hide her teary eyes from him like she always did.

“Didn’t I tell you that you’ll be lost without me?”

She looked up at him then, trying to joke about it even though her smile didn’t reach her eyes, not really anyway.

“Yeah – yeah, you did tell me that.”

Dean whispered, a lopsided smile on his lips. He cleared his throat, turning to his nightstand to watch the picture of the two of them together.

“He’s scared. The other me, I mean.”

“Why is that?”

“He’s afraid to lose you.”

“But you said –”

“According to the doctors, he created this whole world in his head where he takes shelter from reality. The world looks a lot like my life, and he really believes that that’s real, which is why dad – John – I mean, his dad took him to the hospital in the first place.”

Y/N walked the few steps dividing them, going to sit on the edge of the bed.

“So, I’m for him what I’m for you, even if I’m not really in that world?”

“You’re real.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, but –”

Dean sighed, throwing his head back against the headboard. She looked at him in silence, watching him gnawn on his bottom lip until he finally spoke again.

“I share his same fear.”

“Dean, I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere,” she said while grabbing his hand that she squeezed to reassure him.

“But I might go to a place where you’re not there, and then what? It’s bad enough to end up chained to a mental hospital bed, but being without you? Hell, no!”

Y/N widened her eyes at his words. Did he just say –? No, she must have heard him wrong.

“You are chained where, now?”

“Not the point.”

Y/N opened her mouth to argue, but then she decided against it. So, instead, she crawled in his lap, lacing her arms around his neck.

“I’m not letting you go anywhere.”

“But what if –”

“I’ll find my way to you then.”

Dean smiled at that, wrapping his arms around her middle dragging her closer and hugging her a bit harder.

“What if the other Sam is right and all of this isn’t real? What if you’re no – you’re not –”

Dean’s voice died down while his eyes filled with warm, fat tears. Y/N’s heart shattered under the weight of his words, so she let her hands travel along his arms first, then his shoulders to finally reach his face. She cupped his cheeks with her hands, grazing his skin with his thumbs.

“Can you feel this?”

Dean nodded, which was enough for her to keep going. She let her lips wander to his forehead, his eyelids, his nose, and then his mouth.

“And this?”

“Yeah.”

He rasped out, letting their breaths mingle together until she deepened the kiss. Dean kissed her back, granting her access and letting their tongues graze together. Y/N let her hands travel under his shirt, pushing it back bit by bit. Dean took the hint and helped her remove the piece of clothing.

Y/N let go of him just long enough to get rid of her shirt. She grabbed his hands then, guiding them towards her naked skin. Dean put them on her hips and slowly let them travel up her body along her ribcage.

“I can feel your warmth under my fingers.”

His hand traveled up some more, reaching her covered breasts that he gently squeezed. Y/N unhooked her bra, letting it fall between their laps before feeling his hands on her again.

“Let me show you how real I’m.”

They were all gathered in his room with Doctor Novak trying to explain to them – to him – what was going to happen. He wanted Dean to get rid of his other world like it meant nothing. And maybe for the doctor it didn’t but for Dean...

According to Doctor Novak, they had to increase the dosage of Dean’s medicine, promising that once they started to work, he would be able to go back home.

Dean, though, stopped to listen to him after a few words, knowing that speech by heart. He glanced at his dad a few times before deciding to focus on Sam instead.

Was that hope in his eyes?

Dean felt a lump in his throat while he grabbed Sam’s hand in his. Sam squeezed it back, glancing up to his brother with a weak smile on his lips.

“Come here –”

Sam saw Dean pleading him with his eyes, so he scooted closer, sitting on the edge of the small bed.

“I’m so proud of you Sam. Do you know that? So damn smart – you’re stronger than me, you always have been.”

“Dean –”

“I – I can try to accept not being right in my head –”

“Dean, please.”

“No, no, listen. I can come to terms with the fact that all the things I thought I lived and felt, the monsters, the people I’ve met, were just a trick of my mind, but I can’t – I can’t survive at the mere thought of her not being real.”

“Don’t leave me – I can’t do it alone.”

Everything around them felt silent, while the eyes of the other people in the room focused on the two of them, John and doctor Novak sharing a worried look.

“Dean?”

“Sam, what’s going on, son?”

The brothers simply ignored the two other men too focused on their own conversation.

“Yes, you can.”

“Well, I don’t want to.”

“Hey, I’m not leaving you. I’ll be right here, and you can come to visit me every time you want. I’ll be here listening to you. No, I can’t promise to answer you back, but I’ll hear you no matter what, alright?”

Sam nodded his head while his eyes filled with tears.

“Don’t be sad. I’m just not cut out for this world, but you – oh you – you’ll do great. So, go live for me too, yeah?”

“Tell her to take care of you for me, would you?”

Dean’s teary eyes lit up at Sam’s words while a smile crept on his lips. Sam smiled back before he leaned forward to hug him. Dean hugged him back even tighter, while the tears fell down both their cheeks.

“I love you so much. My baby brother.”

And little bit by little bit, Dean’s mind faded away.

The last few days had weight on all of them, but thankfully Sam has managed to find a solution with a little help from Rowena. After that, they all went back to their lives with a sigh of relief for avoiding finding out what would have happened otherwise.

Dean’s nightmares had stopped altogether after Rowena’s spell, and yet sometimes he could still hear a faint whisper in the distance. Rowena had told him that he could still have some side effects for a few days, so he hadn’t worried much about it and simply moved on.

He was in the kitchen, a few months later grabbing some food, when he heard it again. He turned to Sam, bread in hand and with a raised eyebrow.

“What did you say?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You sure?”

“Uhm – yeah?”

Dean shrugged, going back to prepare his sandwich.

“Weird, for a minute I really thought you had said something to me.”

Forevers Tags:

@440mxs-wife @cosicas-cuquis @foxyjwls007 @morganaah

Supernatural Tags:

@flamencodiva @keep-beating-my-dear-heart @leigh70 @littlewhiterose @pastelpeaxch @snowlovespie @stixnstripesworld @hobby27

Dean/Jensen Tags:

@akshi8278 @awkward-and-indecisive @deandreamernp @lyarr24 @siospins2 @stitchintimefan @universallyraylangivens @waynes-multiverse @woodworthti666 @sexyvixen7

[kineticallyanywhere]

got tagged by @writingondaisies! 

How many works do you have on AO3?

14 (there’s one I should move from ff.net soon, but it’s not there now)

What’s your total AO3 word count?

270,817

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

In order of recencey... Dungeons & Daddies, RWBY, Red vs Blue, The Flash/Arrowverse, Danny Phantom, Randy Cunningham: 9th Grade Ninja, (back into ff.net days, Kim Possible, American Dragon: Jake Long, a Percy Jackson one-shot... another thing... Warriors)

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Mind over Matter (Red vs Blue)

Fourteen, and four thousand, years old (RWBY)

Flying, falling, stand your ground (RWBY)

The Way Out (Red vs Blue)

Washin’Boose (Red vs Blue) 

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I try to for long-running fics and for especially long or intense comments, but I’m usually just so nervous ;<; they all warm my heart tho, there is not one that I haven’t read more than once

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

I’m typically allergic to straight tragedy, but... I think probably Put your Stampler in a box (D&Dads), since the whole thing is a hypothetical lead-up to a magic teenager going on a rampage. Mind over Matter has a really emotional ending, but I like to think it’s more bittersweet than straight angst. Fourteen, and four thousand, years old swerves into angst, but nobody’s dying or anything so... yeah!

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

Heroes Under Drinking Age is the incomplete MASSIVE thing which is supposed to ultimately crossover Danny Phantom, RC9GN, American Dragon, and Kim Possible. I hit a hard writing wall on the ADJL and KP side and just never got over it :( I still dream of finishing it

Oh I guess there’s also a TMA-D&Dads crossover I’ve put some thought into, where after s5 Jon and Martin land in Faerun to replace The Library, and they get to decompress in this strange world, meet the Likelys, and hear about the eldritch-adjacent beings from other worlds. 

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Nope! (knocks on all the wood) at least not if you’re not counting someone pointing out spelling stuff unsolicited or stuff like that. 

Do you write smut? If so what kind?

n o p e 

when I did Demons not sold separately (D&Dads) they kiss like two times and talk about the prospect of doing more, but it doesn’t go anywhere cause there’s kids nearby. I tagged it as “ace writing allos” just in case, cause boy howdy do I not know what I’m doing in that department ^u^’

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not that I know of? I wouldn’t know where to start checking for that and if it’s happened, no one’s told me about it

Have you ever had a fic translated?

only in my dreams

Washin’Boose got a pod-fic tho!! 

What’s your all time favorite ship?

I don’t ship too much and I slide around a lot when I do, but Clark KentxLois Lane 4ever

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

Heroes Under Drinking Age, my beloved...

I’ve also got a number of AUs for DnDads, some with enough written that I may as well post some of the stuff as one-shots to maybe expand on later. One is a high school au where Hen (14) comes to Earth early, another is an exploration of what it might be like to be a sort of demi-god descendant of a chaos entity with the Doodler Cult coming back (called Puberty, ????, and You). Idk if Done Sons and Dragons counts, cause that’d be a whole comic. I’d love to publish something of at least one of these

And then there’s a half-baked idea for Yet Another Oscar Time Travel AU for RWBY, that would take place starting after v8 and would feature Oscar and Emerald traveling back to the series start (on purpose.)

What are your writing strengths?

I’ve gotten quite a few compliments on my prose and scene pacing! I like writing prose like it’s the thought process of the character I’m following, and I often find myself getting a bit poetic about it. I’m a big fan of parallelisms and using repetition for impact. 

I also put a lot into trying to match the original tone of the content I’m writing fic for, and have gotten quite a few compliments on my character dialogue. I just get their voices in my brain and they don’t leave. On only one occasion have they paid rent. The freeloaders. 

What are your writing weaknesses?

I bite off more than I can chew and never finish 

I worry a lot over making sure emotional beats connect, and that it doesn’t feel like I’m jumping from point A to point C, and I’m afraid that makes me over-explain point B. Like I was rereading HUDA: Alpha after I posted it to ao3, and I have a lot of grace for my high school self, but some parts of that fic could have been smoothed out quite a bit. Parts of Mind over Matter are a bit wordier than they needed to be, too. 

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

I feel like it’s best done by people who are fluent in a language. Language isn’t just changing words from A to B, it comes with cultural connotations and altered meanings and layers that are only going to come across perfectly when it comes from someone who knows exactly what they’re talking about. so like if I were ever to use more than a few words or a common phrase in another language in a fic, I’d find someone who actually speaks it to help me out. 

as for how to format it... if the meaning needs to be understood by the reader, you may as just put it in the fic’s main language and alter the formatting (like with itallics) or dialogue tag to denote that they’re speaking another language. If it’s small bits, I don’t super mind footnotes at the bottom or just leaving it untranslated, like a special bit for people who speak the language or are willing to look it up. 

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

warrior cats! me, my best friend, and my older sister all had OCs and were part of RainClan, our OC clan. Their camp was made in the trunk and branches of a big willow tree that made a kind of sheltered dome. I didn’t even know what fanfiction was back then

What’s your favorite fic that you’ve written?

Mind over Matter. Hands down. For one, it’s actually done. That would put it in contest with The Way Out, which is also multi-chapter and complete, but MoM is WAY longer and took SO much more work but was SO worth it. It started as just scratching an itch and then grew into something that helped me prove to myself that I can do a long-term project, including themes and foreshadowing and narrative hootenanny and character arcs and character relationship arcs. the html coding. It was a great time, I’m so proud of it, editing it helped build one of my best friendships, and there is nothing I would trade that experience for. 

tagging @aryashi, @cinaed, @hedgiwithapen, and @glowstickia

[smallmediumproblems]

Stumbling onto Tumblr after being gone for a while to see that a TMA baking show AU has developed in my absence is like that last 5 minutes of WALL-E where they go back to Earth and there’s just plants and hope and friendship everywhere; Peter Gabriel is playing in the distance; nebulously gendered robots are kissing tenderly and in love

[silenthillmutual]

2020 Creator Wrap

I was tagged by @stvlti to do the 2020 Creator Wrap: Favorite Works tag! Thank you, sm!! c:

Rules: it’s time to love yourselves! choose your 5 (or so) favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought to the world in 2020. tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

Tagging: @lawliyeeeet​ @soupcans @kunoiichi @milk-teeths @darkpaladin and anyone else who wants to!! Though there’s no pressure to do this if you don’t want<3

So... according to my AO3, I seem to have published or updated 63 works in 2020, which is just a whole hell of a lot more than I usually do! So I’ll pick the going from oldest to newest that I’m most happy with :)

CONTENT WARNING though, under 18 please do not read below the cut as two of the fics are M and one is E. Additional content warning: two deal with self harm and one with intrusive thoughts, and one with pregnancy.

01 || Communication (T)

I think this was when I really hit my stride with understanding how I wanted to characterize Daniil, specifically, and more generally when I worked out how I wanted to write his relationship with Artemy. I tend to focus on the ways in which they communicate differently, and I think I pulled off their voices relatively well.

Favorite moment, when I managed to slip some autism into my characterization:

This is a flaw of his - a messy, embarrassing secret, this inability to distinguish jokes and sarcasm from serious discussion. He masks his insufficiency with a flat-toned seriousness. People find it harder to separate the sarcasm and the jokes from his regular speech when he makes no vocal distinction, and he enjoys the discomfort it brings in others. He considers it, to a degree, payback. A taste of their own medicine. And when he wants to make it clear where his feelings lie, he’ll be picky with the words themselves. He is, if absolutely nothing else, exceptional in the area of verbal self-expression. 

02 || sine sole sileo (M)

This is one of my older works and it is far from being my best, it’s terribly out of character and woobifying, but I’m fond of it as my first really long and more emotional work for the fandom. I had fun writing the first chapter out as a Twitter thread, and then expanding on it. It’s multi-chaptered and actually finished, which is something I have a hard time with!

Favorite moment, which I still actually kind of like, despite everything:

He knows the silence behind the doors, too. It’s a stillness that makes the tips of his fingers buzz. How many days has it been now? Three, four? Artemy though he’d changed the sheets, added new notations. Welcomed in the vocals, the strings, the what-ever-else accompanied performances like this in the Capital. His verses hadn’t been well-sung, but the band had started to play with him. He’d come to anticipate the thrumming percussion. A heart with its own rhythm. Footsteps that rose and fell. Words that lilted, that lead, that brought the symphony to a heightened frenzy.

But silence is a kind of noise too. Where the heart doesn’t beat. Where the voices don’t speak. Even when there is nothing, there is noise.

Artemy has to take a breath before he opens the door. He knows he won’t like what he sees, but he’s seeing so much more in his mind than will be there to greet him. His eyes shake and jostle him to great many things: a gun, a hook, a rope, stained bedsheets and curtains ripped from windows. He sees death even before his eyes adjust because he can smell it, and because he can hear it.

Twelve, he thinks.

03 || o tempora, o mores (M)

This fic was my baby! I wanted so badly to write a character struggling with Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder the way I do, and while it’s not my best-performing fic for the fandom (I haven’t kept track of which one is, actually) it’s probably my favorite. I worked so hard on this one, trying to replicate what it’s like to struggle with OCD, and it felt so gratifying to do. I’m currently working on a follow-up to this one, and I’m very excited for it as well!

Favorite moment is really the whole thing, but I do like this in particular, because I feel it really resonated with how intrusive thoughts and compulsions work for me:

The self-talk gives him enough of a boost to get him through the doors of the hospital. It feels safer here, where there’s only the ill and the dead instead of the thousand living eyes trying to touch him. No one comes to bother him here, just him and Artemy and sometimes Clara and Rubin until a few days ago –

YOUR FAULT. HE IS SICK BECAUSE OF YOU. HE IS IN TROUBLE BECAUSE OF YOU. IF RUBIN DIES, IT IS BECAUSE OF YOU. “Stop it, stop it, stop it,” Daniil mutters. THE EYES KNOW THE VACCINE DIDN’T WORK. THEY ARE WAITING FOR YOU TO ADMIT IT, ADMIT THAT THERE IS NOT ENOUGH TO PROTECT THEM SO THEY CAN HAND YOU TO THE DOGS. THEY WANT TO RIP YOUR BODY OPEN AND DEVOUR YOU. CANNIBALS, ALL OF THEM. AND YOU CAN’T RUN FOREVER. “Stop it,” he repeats, and tries to dig a jagged nail into his wrist.

It won’t go. Too slippery from the ointment Victor applied. He has something in his bag to help, another jagged edge, a rusted pair of scissors lost to their original purpose. The Morae were busy here, he’d thought the first time he saw them, and had laughed at his own clever joke. But now he feels the red string is his skin.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.                                  (it is starting to hurt these could be infected they are dirty they are rusted,) Eight.                                     (but it has to be ten he has to get to ten it has to be even) Nine.                                     (has to be a multiple of five but even always even, no odd numbers in sight)

04 || vita in motu (E)

Heheh I’m in danger (chuckles).

I’ve only managed to get one piece of hate for this fic which I figured would draw way more ire and make me orphan it, and I’m glad I haven’t had to because I’m stupidly attached to the concept. I was trying not to go for E rated fics for this, but this fic meant so much to me to write and for something marked explicit I put a lot of thought into how I wanted to characterize Daniil for it.

So. Yeah. Publishing it was scary as hell but I’m glad I did. I also got some really nice feedback on it, and more than I expected to. I’m very happy with how it turned out.

Favorite moment was actually much longer at the start of it, though kind of like with o tempora, o mores I actually really like how the whole fic turned out. But I really liked this part because I view Artemy as someone who would be very grounding for Daniil to be with:

“Stay in the moment,” Artemy tells him, and kisses him again, kisses him slowly. “Stay here with me. I love you.”  

 It should be utter nonsense, to give in so quickly to this, but Artemy makes it easy. Daniil would never have seen this in his future, would not have even made this as a joke. Something had to beat down his resistance to the emotional, a pro to outweigh the cons he associated with vulnerability. Keeping tightly bound was the safest bet, the easy one. He could say he lacked emotion, and anyone would buy it. Nothing short of a miracle could drag him back to the land of the living – but then again, nothing short of a miracle could have saved this town. Artemy Burakh is a man who manufactures miracles.  

05 || it’s sacrilege, you say (T)

This is the last fic that I wrote out that I took a lot of time planning instead of going “hey, I think this idea would be neat” and slapping it onto paper. And I think it turned out really well!! I almost wanted to do something darker with it, more akin to Silent Hill, but I have other ideas in mind for that kind of AU that I’ll play with later, one of which will be a sort of crossover with TMA.

Favorite moment is when I actually implied the twist, though I’m not sure you can call it a twist at all when I used proper tags:

Her eyes drift from Daniil to the wall, pivoting to look through the window. “No,” she says. “I don’t know why he made you.”

 The center of Daniil’s chest feels like a flower, budded but unopened. Smooth, perhaps, but heavy to move, and his petals are made of something sharp. Crystal, maybe. And he can feel the petals start to part with her words, though they make so little sense to him. He steps forward, closer, half expecting Aspity to recoil from him, but she stays unnaturally still as he approaches. He reaches out to wet his lips, dry as sand, before he speaks. “Made me?” There’s no tone in his voice. “What do you mean, made me? And who are you talking about?”

 She doesn’t turn to face him. She blinks, and lashes fall on sunken cheeks. “Do you remember how you got here, doctor?” He opens his mouth, but she’s faster. “Not to my home. To Town. Think: Can you remember how it is you came to be here?” Daniil grinds his teeth on the side of his tongue, sharp edges digging into the flesh. The flesh.      The flesh    . “Take your time,” she says, but it sounds like a joke. “The last train that arrived brought the menkhu, and no one else aboard it. There are no other ways into our Town.”