#usually when I partake in fandom it's either a thing you can be very creative with like AC

[angiestown]

idk if people on the engaging with fandom spaces website can relate to this but do you ever watch or play something so good by yourself and then you're like. shit I have to deal with having watched/played that by myself. I have nobody to share this with who would appreciate it

[smokedanced]

@moonwoken​ sent a whole bunch of the mun questions

Are there any fandom(s) you avoid roleplaying in? :: you know, i don’t think so? there are fandoms i have no interest in (although i’m extremely crossover friendly to fandoms i know nothing about, usually) but i don’t go out my way to avoid a specific fandom.

What made you start wanting to roleplay? :: as far back as i can remember, i’ve been telling stories to myself, inserting myself in them. like i was seven years old when pokemon started airing in finland, and i would spend a lot of time imagining “fanfic” types of things in my head and either inserting an alter ego of myself in the story or imagining myself as one of the existing characters. i did this even when i was younger, but that was my first fandom based thing. since then, i’ve just... done it with whatever media i liked at the time. roleplaying via writing seemed like a natural extension of that, i started doing that when i was 14, ish, probably.

What are your thoughts on duplicates? :: i adore duplicates!! the only anxiety i get is when i’m unsure whether the other mun is iffy with duplicates or not. but i absolutely love seeing other people’s portrayals of my favourite beans. i have zero worries about people copying me, but slight worries about people thinking i steal from them i guess?? obviously, i don’t.

What are your thoughts on people who goes all out on the aesthetic for their blogs? Do you think they’re have the right to express their creativity however they want? :: short answer: yes. long answer: accessibility absolutely matters, but i think things such as bigger font / lack of fancy text generator text, are more important with something that is meant to be shared widely. like, for example, because i have a public twitter and i partake in public conversations there, i would not use fancy fonts there. however, someone’s roleplay blog doesn’t necessarily need to be accessible for anybody other than that person’s writing partners and that person themselves. it’s not fanfic that should be readable for anybody; the purpose of it is to engage with a writing partner, not distribute it widely, even if it is on a public platform. as long as you don’t get shitty about it when someone unfollows you because your formatting gives them migraines or is hard to read, or format your responses in a way that goes against someone’s rules, to that person, you’re fine, imho? like do what your want, it’s your blog, but also you are making an active choice to potentially miss out on writing partners if your aesthetic is very difficult to access.

What’s the one thing you want to try the most on your blog? :: to give my best for all of my muses. i adore these characters and i want to... not take it too lightly, not that there’s anything wrong with taking rp lightly!

Is there someone you admire on here? (Not me) :: on point for you to include i can’t say you! pfft. there are many people i look up to, i admire everybody who has love for their muses!

If you could recommend at least five blogs to your followers, who would they be? :: hee, guess who didn’t say “not me”! @moonwoken​ is my irl spouse and a phenomenal writer who inspires me every day. @rubiesintherough​ has an impressive amount of original characters that are fleshed out. @hatilead​ writes so poetically i sometimes just stare at my screen and sweat a little. @thekingsparty​ is one of my oldest mutuals since i entered the spn rpc and has been writing crowley since fucking 2012. @lefae​ and their blogs are an absolute joy to have around if you want excitable conversations about your plots.

What’s the one thing you dislike about the roleplaying community on Tumblr? :: hmmm, just one? the purity culture. the attempts for censorship of “problematic” content. people grouping acts of harmful things (such as writing a racist caricature, which is an act of racism) with depictions of harmful things (such as writing an abusive ship, which is not an act, but a depiction of abuse) together and acting as if they are equally bad. the fandom anti culture. posting callouts on people based on what fictional content they write when they are not forcing it on anybody and are open about writing it (the only point of such callouts is to abuse these people, you don’t need to “warn” people about what someone is doing when they are open and honest about it already). “please don’t harrass this person but [insert callout here]” well, see, people are going to harrass that person anyway. people acting as if some rando’s rp blog with a few hundred followers writing xyz would “normalise” it and vouching for censorship instead of education, in general. i wrote a bigger post about this earlier this year that i reblog periodically, here. btw, i’m not talking about people with rules such as “don’t follow me if you write xyz”, that’s fine, and completely different from “nobody should write xyz”. and i hate it so much when people act as if something being “gross” would make it problematic. no, picking your nose in public is gross; actual harm to real people is HARMFUL. wish people would stop trivialising shit. anything can be squicky or even triggery to someone in a fictional context. doesn’t make it harmful.

[our-smooty]

Flowerbeds and Fertile Soil: Chapter 14

Fandom: Good Omens

Rating: Explicit

Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens, )Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer

Tags:  Kidfic, Mpreg kind of, they can choose to present however so idk, Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Crowley Has A Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has A Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has A Vulva (Good Omens), OCs Galor, parenting, using your snake form to avoid confrontation, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Pregnancy, if I missed a tag lemme know

Summary: They could do anything, go anywhere, all without the worry of Above or Bellow making a fuss. Even so, they mostly kept to their little patch of Eden, their cottage and garden and the simple life they’d carved out among the locals. Aziraphale opened a book shop in town, where he only occasionally sold any books (and the ones he did sell, were all modern and stocked specifically for that purpose). Crowley focused his attentions on the garden, and if he occasionally helped their elderly neighbour with her disobedient willow tree, then that was a secret no one needed to know. Lately, however, they had both been feeling rather restless, unbeknownst to each other. Aziraphale tried reorganizing his store, changing the way he tied his bowtie and even ate pizza –something he considered to be far too messy for him personally. Crowley had branched out into birdwatching, and then car maintenance (the human way), and even reading. Nothing scratched the itch for either of them.

Ao3 Link

It was Beelzebub’s turn to pick the meeting spot, so of course they were standing in a dark, damp back alley somewhere in the American Mid-West at three in the morning. Seemed a little out of the way to Gabriel, but the Prince of Hell had said something about an on-going project with the American political system that they couldn’t leave for a even a second, so here he was. 

“We couldn’t meet inside somewhere? he sneered, eyeing the way his designer shoes were getting ruined in the disgusting sludge coming from a dumpster a few feet away.

“Don’t want you and your lot closer to this project than necessary. You’d just fuck it all up,” Beelzebub answered, rolling their eyes at him. Gabriel huffed and straightened his collar, though it of course wasn’t at all out of place. 

“Well let’s make it quick then. Did your humans…?”

A dangerous growl that Gabriel was glad wasn’t directed at him. “No. Idiots got scared off by whatever the bastard had set up. They all ran off anyways.”

“Well mine got the job done. They sent a little… encouragement, to that ratty bookshop Aziraphale insists on keeping.” Gabriel was practically preening and he knew it. Being able to show up Beelzebub in any way always put him in a positive mood. Thwarting the enemy and all that.

“It’d be easier if we could be direct,” Beezle growled. The flies swarming around the dumpster began to make their way over and Gabriel had to swat a few away with the back of his hand.

“Get a hold of yourself, Beez. You were there, you know the almighty was clear that neither one of us could interfere directly!” Using humans as a loophole had been Michael’s idea and so far there hadn’t been any repercussions. But this had only been a test, and since things had gone well…

“We can escalate though, yes?” they buzzed, the flies zipping around excitedly and a grin breaking out on their face. “My contacts from before have been... reprimanded appropriately, and we’re ready to move on whenever you are.”

Gabriel’s face morphed into a tight smile of his own. He always had admired his demonic counterpart’s willingness to get a job done, no matter the cost. Beelzebub was shrewd and cutthroat and if they hadn’t been one of Satan’s damned, Gabriel might have hired them for a position Upstairs.

“Yes, we can move on to phase 2. Give it a few weeks, I’ll send you a memo, and a calendar invite for the pre-briefing. It’s Heaven’s turn to cater so…” Which was a good thing, since last time when it’d been Hell’s turn the lettuce on the tea sandwiches had been mouldy. Gabriel didn’t partake in the gross matter but it was the principle of the thing! “Are we still on for that event in Berlin next Saturday?”

“You’re the one who said it’d be in both our best interests if it went well, so yeah, I’ll be there. Don’t get in my way.” Beelzebub threw up a rather rude hand gesture then disappeared through a door in one of the buildings. Gabriel spent a few extra minutes in the ally, pondering whether contacting the demon to make sure their chosen apparel didn’t clash, or if that might get him in more trouble than it was worth.

-

The hunger didn’t really go away. Crowley woke up almost every morning with a strong desire to get to the breakfast table that persisted throughout lunch and supper. Aziraphale enjoyed it as an opportunity to exercise his cooking skills, even if it did require him to spend more of his day in the kitchen than was usual. Crowley repaid him for his kindness of course, he’d bring in fresh flowers (though with the changing seasons, he was going to have to switch to gourds), or later in the day bring him cocoa and biscuits while the angel was working on restoring a book. Sometimes, after a particularly good supper, Crowley might drop to his knees under the table and thank Aziraphale in a different way that the angel liked just as much as any of the others. 

The change of season brought on a change in their routines as well. Since it was getting colder, Crowley spent a lot more of his time indoors curled up in front of the fireplace watching reality TV, or in bed taking long indulgent naps. When they’d first moved in together Crowley had tried to stay awake and active through the colder months, scared Aziraphale would be upset with him for lounging about. But after 10 years they’d come to an understanding. As long as Crowley made an effort to spend at least a little bit of time-conscious with the angel every day (barring very long naps, which were usually discussed beforehand), Aziraphale was happy. And Aziraphale being happy made Crowley happy which in turn made the colder months of the year much more pleasant for the demon. 

On a blustery November afternoon, Crowley was making a significant effort to be awake as Aziraphale showed him pictures of cribs on his own laptop. He never should have shown the angel pinterest, or Amazon. 

“So what do you think? I thought something traditional would be nice, and of course money isn’t really an object, and maybe there’s someone in town who does carpentry? But what about safety?” Crowley browsed the collections of cribs, and rocking chairs, and various baby paraphilia, trying to keep himself from drifting off. He’s set an alarm to wake him up just after midday in case he didn’t wake up naturally. Of course, he’d snoozed it a few times before dragging himself out of their bedroom and into the sitting room for a cuppa.

“Think we’ve seen thousands of babies make it just fine, even without all these fancy cribs and chairs and baskets. You know we can make just about anything safe if we want to, with wards and a good talking-to.” He paused on a simple crib made of light pine with gently scalloped finishings. “I know I’ve seen signs for ‘rustic’ furniture around the village, m’sure you could find someone to make one like this.”

“That would be lovely, wouldn’t it? It’s been a very long time since I had to make use of any woodworking skills, but I’m sure I could sketch something up for a professional to take a look at. Would you like to help, darling?” 

“Sure, go get us a pencil and paper then, and maybe a refill?” There’d be no more coffee since Aziraphale insisted he keep to under a cup a day, but maybe the angel would allow him some tea. Aziraphale gave him a beatific smile then rushed off to his stacks of stationery. Crowley secretly thought it was sweet how Aziraphale still wrote letters on his own custom paper, with fountain pens and a personalized wax seal. Over the millennia he’d gotten thousands of letters from the angel, and he kept each one in a lockbox that was now hidden in the back of their closet. Outwardly, Crowley rolled his eyes when Aziraphale returned, playing the part of out-upon husband as usual.

“Alright, you get a start on here then, while I make more tea. You’ve always been better at the arts than me anyway.” Debatable, but Crowley was too sleepy to really argue. He took a pen and some paper and began to doodle out crib-shaped creations. As the kettle whistled and Aziraphale hummed to himself his drawing moved towards the more specific, detailing little flower engravings for decoration along all the legs. When Aziraphale came back with the tea and some biscuits, Crowley had less of a sketch and more of a fully fleshed-out design.

“Oh Crowley! It’s gorgeous love,” Aziraphale exclaimed as he sat down to take a look. Crowley had barely been thinking about what he was drawing, instead letting his hands take over while his mind coasted in a half-dreaming state. “I love the flowers, and the wings on the corners. “You’re so creative.”

“Thanks angel,” Crowley murmured, looking at his own drawing like he was seeing it for the first time. He took a sip of tea from the cup Aziraphale passed him, relaxing back against his angel. “But I’m sure you can do it better, if you try.”

“Nonsense. I think it’s perfect. Maybe we could do a little more research, just to make sure it’s up to safety standards, just in case, but otherwise, I don’t think I’d change a thing.” Crowley would have argued if he wasn’t already half asleep again, his teacup leaning dangerously to the side. “Are you really so tired my dear? You should have said.”

“Wanted t’spend some time w’you,” he mumbled. The teacup was gone from his hands, presumably taken by Aziraphale, and a warm blanket draped around his shoulders. “Don’t want you t’be lonely.”

“My sweet demon,” Aziraphale cooed. “Thank you, you’re always thinking of me. But I think I’m going to read for a little while, if you’re like to take a nap. You can use my lap, if you’re like.” Crowley was already sliding down so he was horizontal, his head cushioned against Aziraphale thighs. The angel used one hand to turn the pages of the book resting on the arm of the sofa, the other slung low on Crowley’s hips. That hand wormed its way under Crowley’s sweater--soft cotton, with little devil horns on the hood--so he could touch the bare skin of his belly. 

“Love you,” Crowley hummed. Aziraphale wiggled a tiny bit, either in happiness or to get more comfortable, and sighed happily.

“I love you too, dear. Get some sleep.” And Crowley drifted off.

At first he was dreaming about the garden. Not the Garden, but his garden in the South Downs, at the cottage. It was summer, peak flowering period for some of his favourites and he was down on his knees at one of the smaller flower beds pulling weeds. The sun was exceedingly warm at the back of his neck but that was alright, he was nearly done. Then he could go inside and drink some of the lemonade Aziraphale had made earlier.

The dream oozed forward at a leisurely pace and he enjoyed every second. The sun slowly sank towards the horizon and the wind got a little chilly; it must have been later in the summer than he thought. Even though the weather was turning, he still felt warm though, an unfamiliar heat spreading from his core and out to his limbs. He looked down, almost expecting to see something silly like a hot water bottle--dream logic of course; even when he knew he was dreaming Crowley’s imagination got away from him--but instead saw his own body. And the baby bump.

“That you, Sprout?” he asked, his voice echoing strangely in the hazy dreamworld. “You’re very warm, taking after your Papa?”

A familiar wriggling, and something Crowley struggled to define. It almost reminded him of when we was still an angel, and he could sense love, a glowing joy from inside, spilling out through his cracks. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the sensation, the dream’s slow pace lulling him into a sense of security. Here in his garden there was just him, the baby, and what felt like pure joy.

Crowley didn’t notice the dream shifting. The garden slowly getting darker and colder, the flowers wilting, shriveling, dying. Their cottage faded away, becoming an empty field, the sky a roiling grey. When Crowley opened his eyes and saw his surroundings, the oncoming storm whipping the dead grass and flowers all around, he knew. The warmth in his stomach pulled away and Crowley felt cold.

Something was coming.

Aziraphale was startled from deep in his reread of Frankenstein’s Monster by Crowley’s shuddering. Normally when the demon had a bad dream the first sign was a noise; a whimper or a shout that would alert Aziraphale to the situation so he could intervene. But even lacking the normal markers, the angel could tell something was wrong. Crowley was a very still sleeper, even if he did cling, and the erratic shaking and shivering he was doing right now certainly wasn’t normal.

“Crowley love, wake up. Shhh, it’s alright,” he said, loud enough to wake the other but softly enough to avoid startling him. He set his book aside and brought both hands into the equation, caressing and petting Crowley’s hair and shoulders. “Come on darling, time to wake up.”

“‘Zira? S’dark.” He didn’t sound upset, or panicked and Aziraphale let out a breath of relief. 

“You were only asleep for an hour, but the suns already set, given how late in the year it is,” Aziraphale explained, still petting Crowley’s hair. “Were you having a bad dream?”

Crowley rubbed his face against the angel’s belly, dispelling the sleep from his eyes. “Strange. I was in the garden, and then it was dark out. Could feel…” He stared down at his stomach. “I think I could feel them there.”

“Really?” Aziraphale meant to ask more about the dream, but was easily sidetracked by the news of the baby communicating. “In what way did you see them?”

“Not see, just felt them. They were warm. But then it got dark, and I felt like I was freezing, and the cottage was gone--” his voice got faster and faster, his breathing more shallow. To stop him flying off into a panic attack Aziraphale thread his fingers through Crowley’s hair again, not really tugging but still a firm presence. “And then I woke up. That's it, nothing exciting angel.”

Aziraphale hummed lowly, in the way he knew relaxed Crowley. “I’m a little jealous of you. For getting to feel them, not for having a nightmare.”

Crowley wiggled so that instead of just his head resting in Aziraphale lap, his entire upper body was laying across his legs. Then he grabbed the hand the angel didn’t have woven through his hair and pressed it to his stomach.

“S’the best I can do. Maybe if you concentrate you’ll feel it too?” Aziraphale tried his hardest, willing his entire celestial self to focus in on that one small area. Underneath his hands Crowley shuddered, but Aziraphale kept on searching until--

“Oh!” He could feel something, at least. It wasn’t really warm, like Crowley had said, but there was movement. It was reassuring to know they were there, and alive, and growing. “You’re amazing Crowley.”

“What, me?” Crowley laughed, thoroughly pleased with himself. The anxiety from the dream didn’t stand a chance against praise from Aziraphale. Still, Crowley looked like he was done sleeping, because he sat up and stretched languorously.  “S’a bit late to go out, but we could order in?”

“If you want. You’ll have to take a look at your application and see what’s available.” Somehow, despite being a ways out into the countryside they always had plenty of options for takeout. And they were well known by all the delivery persons as excellent tippers, so their food usually arrived on time or earlier than expected. “I’m not craving anything in particular.”

“Good, ‘cause I am. I want fries, and maybe a ceasar salad. Oh and falafel.” Crowley was already tapping wildly at his phone, presumably making his order. “And maybe something sweet, for after…”

“Cravings dear?” Aziraphale teased, nudging Crowley with one elbow like he used to do years ago, when they would walk through St. James’ Park. That was before the end that didn’t happen, when even the smallest contact between them was taboo. Now they could touch whenever they wanted, and so Aziraphale didn’t stop at just one nudge, instead choosing to lean heavily against Crowley so he could look at the screen, “The poor delivery person is going to have an awful lot of trouble carrying all that.”

Crowley just rolled his eyes and continued scrolling through his options. “So you don’t want bubble tea? I was going to get you taro flavour but if you think it’s too much--” 

“Now now let's not be hasty love. I'm sure a large tip will make up for any trouble on the driver’s end.” Crowley giggled. Aziraphale tucked the sound away in his memory with all the other cute things Crowley did but would never admit to. 

“I thought so. You can never resist, can you?” Refusing to be needled, Aziraphale decided to fire back. Crowley was so cuddly and soft; so completely unworried now that the nightmare had faded that he couldn’t resist. He nuzzled right underneath the other’s demon-sigil where he knew Crowley was extra sensitive and revelled in the full-body shudder it produced. 

“Why should I? There’s no shame in liking nice things.” Aziraphale let the implication hang. Crowley could still be touchy about being called nice or good outside of the bedroom depending on his mood. This time however, Crowley sighed and shimmied away a bit so he could show Aziraphale the screen.

“Whatever you say angel. Does this look good?” The order list was expansive, and probably much more than either of them would be able to  eat tonight. But that was alright, leftovers wouldn’t last long given Crowley’s new and voracious appetite. 

“Splendid love. I’ll go set the table?” It was really an excuse to get up and move. As much as Aziraphale loved cuddling and pampering his husband, he did tend to get restless. Now that Crowley was awake and relaxed he could get up and bustle about, working off all the energy that had built up while the demon napped. With the excitement of the baby coming Aziraphale had been finding it difficult to sit still and not rush about, preparing everything.

“Can’t we just eat here?” Crowley asked, sprawling into the warm space on the sofa left behind by the angel. Aziraphale smiled and passed his slothful demon the telly remote.

“No, I won’t have you drop tahini and falafel bits all over the carpet. You can eat at the table or not at all.” Crowley glared but there wasn’t really any real anger in it. In fact, it was quite cute, not that he’d ever say that out loud. Crowley would not tolerate being called cute, no matter how happy he was. 

“Fine, stuffy angel.” He turned the TV on and quickly navigated to NBC where Aziraphale knew they’d be playing Golden Girls at this hour. After one last fond look Aziraphale couldn’t stand still any longer, so he hurried off to get everything ready for their impromptu feast.

[goldheartofsteel]

coffee: the drink of love - A Creativisleepality & Analogical fanfic  

(Chapter 1: When Patton met Roman)

Fandom: Sanders Sides (Web Series)

Characters: Morality | Patton Sanders, Sleep | Remy Sanders, Creativity | Roman “Princey” Sanders Anxiety | Virgil Sanders Logic | Logan Sanders, 

Category: Multi, M/M

Relationship: Eventual Romantic Creativisleepality, Eventual Romantic Analogical, Platonic Prinxiety, Platonic Logicality

Rating: General Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Summary:  Roman and Virgil have a friendly chat about their respective love lives and things spiral out from there.

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Human, Pre-Relationship, Misunderstandings, Pining, Disaster Gays

Tagging: @notveryglittery

Link on Ao3

The sight of Patton’s favorite coffee shop brings a bright smile to his face and his excitement for his usual coffee drink grows. It’s been a few days since he’s had a chance to get here last and he’s more than ready to partake in his favorite coffee beverage.

The bell rings as Patton pushes open the door.

The shop is fairly busy, filled with mostly regulars though by the looks of it, there are some newcomers trying the coffee for the first time. Good, its what the shop deserves.

“Hey babes. I haven’t seen you for a few days so I thought you found a new coffee shop and that broke my poor little heart,” calls out a familiar voice.

Patton looks over to the counter and sees the owner, Remy standing there with his hand dramatically over his heart.

Shaking his head, he grins at his friend’s antics.

“Oh no, I’d never do that. I know better than that,” replies Patton, “I’ve missed you and the coffee these last few days. Blame it on work.”

Remy laughs.

“Do you need me to talk to Logan?” asks Remy.

“I appreciate it but after last time…..” Patton trails off.

Signing into the register, Remy focuses on the task at hand, now that his favorite customer is here.

“So, the usual Pat?” asks Remy.

Patton nods his head.

“Yuppers!”

Remy smiles as he enters the order into the register.

“So, one large vanilla latte and let’s see what scones we have today,” he looks into the baked goods display, “one cinnamon scone for everyone’s favorite cinnamon roll.”

Patton blushes at the compliment.

“Go have a seat, Patton and I’ll bring everything over when it’s ready,” comments Remy.

“Thanks Rem,” replies Patton.

He walks over to one of the free tables by the window then scans the coffee shop, to people watch while he waits. Eventually, his gaze lands back at the counter and moves down the line from Remy helping another customer to the baristas making drinks and chatting.

In that second, Patton realizes there’s a new person behind the counter – tall, well-kept hair, a charming smile who’s making the people around him laugh as he makes the orders for the customers.

The new barista catches Patton’s eye and winks, causing him to blush then turn his head away.

----------

On a particularly hot day, Patton decides to swing by the coffee shop for some nice and iced to drink because he needs a break from all the water and Gatorade he’s had already, to keep properly hydrated. He thinks Logan would be proud of him.

Patton waves at a couple of people he knows as he makes his way up the counter.

However, instead of Remy working the register, it’s the new barista.

Ok Patton. You’ve got this. Just because handsome and charming doesn’t mean anything.

The man’s eyes widen in excitement when he realizes who Patton.

“Oh! You’re a friend of Remy’s and one of the first people who came here when he opened up a few years ago,” he says grinning.

Patton blinks at few times.

Then he blushes; both at the fact the man knows who he is and that Remy’s been talking about him.

“Yup! That’ll be me!” replies Patton brightly.

The man chuckles.

“So, what will it be, padre?”

“Think I’ll do the iced chai tea latte and make it a large,” Patton looks at the man’s name tag, “Roman. Thanks!”

Roman rubs the back of his neck in embarrassment.

“I didn’t introduce myself, did I? I’ve only been here a few days,” says Roman.

Patton smiles.

“No worries, that’s why name tags were invented,” replies Patton.

Roman rings him up then Patton pays before stepping out of the way of the next customer while he waits for his drink. Patton can’t help watching Roman with a smile on his face.

----------

Weeks pass and Patton strikes up a friendship with Roman and it’s been the best few weeks of his life so far or it would be, if it wasn’t for this pesky little crush he’s developed on Roman. It’s just, Roman is so good, so kind and so charming. Really, it’s no surprise Patton’s fallen for him honestly.

Patton enters the coffee shop one day, ready to see two of his favorite people in the world (he can’t forget about Remy after all).

In the doorway, he pauses once he spots Roman – Roman standing very close to another guy dressed all in purple and black, blushing at whatever Roman’s whispering into his ear.

He decides he’s not in the mood for coffee after all.

----------

“To be fair, it’s not like the topic of our relationship statuses ever came up. To use your words, it’s highly probable that Roman has a boyfriend. I would have been surprised if he didn’t.”

Patton stares down at the coffee in his hands and sighs.

Sitting here in this popular chain coffee shop with Logan makes him feel weird and guilty. Not the Logan part; he likes that part actually. The coffee shop is too much for him to take – too loud, too fast and too crowded.

It’s not Remy’s coffee shop.

Logan stares at his friend with a frown on his face.

“Perhaps, you should talk to Roman. Clearly, you miss him and I’m sure he misses you. You’re a hard person to not miss,” states Logan.

Patton gives him a small smile.

“Wouldn’t it be poking my nose into something that’s not my business though? If he wanted me to know, he’d tell me when he’s good and ready to,” responds Patton dejectedly.

After all, he’s been taught to respect people’s privacy.

Logan’s frown grows bigger.

“You do seem to have quite the conundrum, Patton.”

He just sighs then takes a sip of the subpar coffee.

----------

Patton’s phone goes off, letting him know that he has a text message so he pulls out his phone and sees that its from Remy. The message is simply a video of a very sad-looking Roman trying to go about his job.

Immediately, he feels guilty.

Regardless of his feelings for Roman, Patton misses him and makes a mental note to stop by the coffee shop after work. He only hopes it won’t backfire on him and that Remy hasn’t banned him.

----------

Opening the door to the shop, Patton’s relieved to find the place fairly empty so he won’t make a fool of himself in front of a crowd. The first person he sees is Remy, so he cautiously makes his way over to him.

“Uh, hey Remy….”

Patton bites his lip as he watches his friend freeze at the sound of his voice before slowly turn around. He wasn’t prepared for what happened next.

Remy’s eyes widen at his appearance then slowly scan Patton’s body from head to toe then back up again.

“PATTON!”

Throwing his arms around the startled Patton, Remy hugs him tightly and doesn’t let go for a few minutes.

He releases Patton from his hug but keeps hold of his hand.

“If I had known a video of Roman was all that it took to bring you back in, I would have sent it earlier,” comments Remy.

Patton blushes.

“A what of me?” asks a familiar voice.

Roman appears in the doorframe leading to the hallway the restrooms are located and Patton feels the breath leaves his body because Roman looks not very glittery like the last time Patton saw him.

Time slows down the moment Roman sees Patton standing there.

Remy lets go of Patton’s hand then slowly backs away, subtly getting the last of the customers out of the shop before flipping the sign to ‘Close’ and locking the front door. Then he watches his friends from somewhere out of the way.

Roman stumbles over his feet in a hurry to get to Patton, afraid this is a hallucination and he’ll fade away.

Eyes wide and concern for Roman hurting himself, Patton rushes towards him just in time to have Roman trip over his feet, sending him flying into Patton, who’s arms wrap around his waist as he’s knocked to the floor.

Looking up at Roman and meeting his gaze, Patton smiles brightly which is returned quickly and makes Roman look more like himself.

Roman slowly gets off of him then stands up before holding out a hand for Patton to take and he does, so with Roman’s help, he’s on his feet in seconds.

“You alright, padre? Didn’t mean to knock you over,” says Roman.

Patton gives his hand a squeeze.

“I’m good, better than good actually,” he replies.

Before either of them can say more, another voice interjects.

“What the hell is going on here?”

It’s the purple punk guy Patton say talking to Roman last time he was here. He can’t help trying to drop Roman’s hand and putting some space between them.

Roman’s having none of that.

Tugging on his hand, Roman causes Patton to stumble into him then quickly let’s go of Patton’s hand in order to wrap his arm around his shoulder instead.

Mr. Purple makes his way across the room to them.

Patton looks between the two men in confusion.

“Isn’t he your boyfriend, Roman?”

There’s silence for a couple minutes before its broken by the sound of glass breaking – Remy dropped a glass on the floor in order to cover his mouth to hide his laughter.

“Yeah no, my dude. Whoever told you that is selling something. Princey here is the closet thing I have to a brother and my best friend but he’s not my type. I prefer someone with a brain in his head. I’m Virgil, by the way and you must be Patton,” explains Virgil.

Patton shakes his hand as he blushes because of his assumption.

Roman stares at Patton with his mouth open for a few minutes before he realizes what happened.

“Oh Patton, you cute puffball you,” he comments.

Virgil smirks.

“Yeah, Princey here prefers guys who wear polos, have glasses and lots of freckles that he wants to count then kiss.”

[fireeaglespirit]

@fireeaglespirit @viviane-lefay i do worry sometimes with the stories I write if things might be too much for you. To be fair I dont think in any fanfic Ive ever written anything too explicit but now Im so conscious of other people’s viewpoints and being inclusive that it is a concern. Ultimately I write what I want to/need to but I am aware it might not be for all tastes hence always trying to follow ratings etc.

Replying here so it doesn’t cause any problems with OP, etc..

Ohh. I’m sorry if this worried you.. tbh this was very random and I wasn’t even thinking about fiction when I rb this. This one reminded me of a few times I went out with friends and colleagues and I just felt starkly asexual, lmao

About my tolerance regarding sex and explicitly in fiction, I’ll be honest with you…

There’s hardly anything I could say I wouldn’t read about. I just don’t feel ‘triggers’ or anything of the sort, no hard feelings when it gets to fiction and I value your will to be conscious of other viewpoints but its practically impossible to cater to all tastes like you said, so don’t worry about it much… there’s always someone out there who will feel offended and others who will fiercely love it.

As for myself, I’m very tolerant to sexual content in fiction, idk? I don’t seek it out particularly but its not a deal breaker either.

I know some asexual people are less tolerant, I usually just get a ‘meh’ feeling whenever those subjects are touched in much detail, idk some works do get nasty and bothersome because of much detail involving sexual practices so I just give up on them or put them aside when they bring me no joy but I gladly consume material with sex on it as long as I like some aspects of it. Also, I’m good at ignoring or glossing over things I don’t like in fiction… when I read explicit scenes with intercourse it does nothing to me and my eyes focuses on the sentences I loved such as regarding the feelings between the characters and subtle interactions instead of the physical/carnal aspects of it, and this makes it all worthy it.

Even so, some works might become overwhelmingly depressive or repulsive so I might put them aside even if I enjoyed an aspect of it or I might just skip through them and this happened recently to a series of fantasy books I tried to read which were actually really good but they were so overwhelmingly and unnecessarily dark and had an horrid oppressive atmosphere towards women an sex so I just felt no joy reading them? Its not like I was traumatized by its tone but it felt like a chore and I couldn’t care about it further and no character inspired me whatsoever that the world could change for the better, so I dropped them.

But its not like I’m judging it, I just feel weirded out to some things and I just imagine the kind of mind that takes upon themselves the chore to write a whole series of book which has nothing but suffering and misery in them, especially concerning women, lol. We already had this shit in history and still have in some places in the world so I kinda feel like its not interesting for me to read about it in a fictional setting, especially if I don’t feel like the writer is going to challenge the setting.

But I’m aware most people are much more sensitive… these things can be horrid for those who are more sensitive, and perhaps my own asexuality protects me from feeling it fully as I don’t even think of myself as a being capable of partaking in this (weird, I know), so I have problem even projecting.

But I did felt really strongly for the way women were oppressed absurdly and had their agency completely obliterated, so that sparked a sort of empathy or kinship in me which made progress in such book a chore…

You got my point and this just illustrates a bit my relationship to fiction and things that irk me since you were interested in my opinion… I have another example of fantasy book with lots of sex in it:

I read asoiaf even thought its full of sexual stuff but I don’t feel joy at these parts, yet the work is so good on other themes that I ignore it for the most part… but even so, recently I’ve read F&B and it was kinda overwhelming on the sexist aspect with myriads of female characters turned into child brides and raped and dying at their childbirth repeatedly it just got very tiresome and repetitive near the end, because there where almost no counterpoints to it, unlike in the main series where the situation is dire for women but we have characters challenging it more often and idk. F&B just lacked on that front.

So, this shows a bit my sensitivity towards sex is more related to sexism and the feeling that women are confined to their reproductive aspects: motherhood, childbearing, marriage, sensuality, etc.. I don’t have a problem with sexual intercourse per se as you can see, but that’s from my unique point of view and I know some asexuals are more repulsed towards it, but you asked my opinion…

So, if its consensual sex: its not my cup of tea but I don’t feel like its a deal breaker…

Just to give you a positive sex example: when I see an OTP of mine getting to the point of having sex I think its pretty sweet, like when Jon and Dany consummated their love on that boat… I was happy for them, for all that it means, the symbolism between the union of ice and fire and just two characters which I love dearly, finding happiness and comfort in each other. What’s not to love about it??

This is a rare stance I can say I saw a pair I ship get to that point xD

I love shipping as you know, but its more about the psychological aspects and potential for character development and even when I’m reading fanfic about my OTPs I enjoy more the angst and symbolism than the ‘hot’ parts which usually just makes me go ‘meh’ (again).

So this makes me say: when sex is the focus of works I could feel like I’m too asexual for this, even if it regards an OTP, it just doesn’t have a very exciting effect on me or I’m not explicitly interested in this part of a relationship, when so many other things caught my eye… sometimes subtle interactions and dialogue and and gentle approximation (touches, caresses, kissing, etc..) is so much more exciting for me to read about than the ‘thing’ itself, lol.

To sum it up: when its there just for p*rn or even worse, shock value it just makes me go ‘meh’ or ‘ugh’ or ‘uhh why am I even reading this?’

This reminds me of Vivi’s take on the ‘hiero gamos’, in this case I just say I might even enjoy the theme as long as the scenes involving sex are meaningful and passionate and the aspect I value the most about them are sublime and platonic instead of carnal but I’m aware the carnal aspects are very important for the characters and the audience so I also worry when I get to show my stories people will think they lack sexual content ^^  I get you.

Now that you know my feelings towards sex in fiction, to a broader sense I just wanted to say..

There’s no way to guess people’s sensitives but it doesn’t mean you need to walk on eggshells afraid to trigger people all the time, hell no! I’m all for freedom of creation. At least around me there are no metaphorical ‘eggshells’.

Everyone has their own set of opinions which makes them unique, not just me, I mean…  even so I will let my snowflake syndrome show but I’m quite peculiar if you could say, so I sort of grew a strong ‘carapace’ towards the world as I deal with people with completely different views and values on a daily basis which might make me have inflamed political opinions while at the same time, I’m very flexible and forgiving when it comes to fiction in general.

I don’t expect much of the population to be like this so I’m also self conscious when it gets to writing my own stuff because I know people can feel very strongly about it and you’ve seen the way fandom reacts to minor things and bash creators when they perceive flaws in their work… I’m just not a judgmental person, its not in my nature. I just ignore things in fiction if I don’t like and I became even more relaxed over time in regards to this all, lol I nearly reached a ‘nirvana’ as I don’t even feel strongly negative feelings in regard to this.

Snarky and bitter comments from time to time? Yes… but no hard feelings. RL needs my hatred, lol so I don’t have it to spare with fiction any longer.

Anyway, on an unrelated sub note… as you might have noticed, I don’t feel comfortable about current fandom trends and specially policing, and with reason as this gets very serious and quick with literally ‘wave chain reactions’ of hatred sparked apparently from nowhere. I hope people could create more freely instead of the political correct police and restraining of creativity we have now. It was good for a while and I’m all for diversity and change in status quo (for the better), but I think this has gone too far and I perceive a lot of rigidity in fiction right now due to fear of fandom backlash we have creators afraid to make their thing and afraid it isn’t ‘inclusive or progressive’ enough… so they bend themselves endlessly until fandom ‘approves’ them, but even so someone is bound to scream and say the work is offensive and the cycle of hatred is restarted.

I know this reply was like a huge egocentric monologue and I strained with non related issues at the end, but you asked my thought on this so I tried to convey it with detail.. including things related to the perception we have concerning fictional themes and I just kinda had to vent at some parts of it.

etc…. This doesn’t mean I forbid judgment from others or criticism or that I forbid people from harshly criticizing works of fiction, just that sometimes it gets more harmful than beneficial and scare people off, and I felt like saying that.

Anyway,,, just want to say nonetheless I find it very sweet and considerate that you are taking different opinions in mind while writing, but you don’t need to worry at least from my part, and I don’t think you ever got even close to being explicit in your writings so there’s absolutely nothing to worry about.

[sophygurl]

Okay I am done with the panel write-up posts and I apologize to all my followers who don’t give a fuck about that kinda thing but WisCon is a big part of my life so I get to totally indulge in it once a year so there. [For anyone wondering this amazing con I keep going on about is a feminist Sci-fi/fantasy con right in my home town and I’ve been going for close to ten years now and it’s like HOME to me]

Gonna post some about the panels I was on, my general con experience this year, and some other stuff under this next read more thingum here. It’ll be more of a personal post than the others. Anything else I write now will be more about fandom-ey stuff that I got up in my feels about and need to hash out. 

BTW though. Hi new followers!! If you’re coming to me due to WisCon specifically or due to my write-up of THAT panel, feel free to introduce yourselves. I use tumblr the most frequently with twitter and FB being a sort of tie for second and DW much more rarely just as an FYI. I’m sophygurl everywhere but FB which is my real name. I’m easily findable and love talking to people! 

So my panels this year were all very different in tone and experience, but all went pretty well? I had fun anyway? I had 4 panels about TV in some way or another and one about Star Wars. Some hinged on serious-ish topics, but I wasn’t on any Serious Business panels this year. 

I wrote up a crap-ton of panel ideas and a lot of them got through. So many that panels I wrote up and wanted to go to were often up against one another and I had to make lots of choices. But it feels really good to me to be involved in that way - in writing up panels, and in being on them, and in going to them and taking notes and writing them up after. There is a lot that I CAN’T do for the con due to my disability stuff. But this is stuff I both can do and enjoy doing so it works out well. I also volunteered to a few people to write up panel descriptions from ideas they have but don’t have fleshed out, so that’s an exciting new thing for me to try out.  So but yea, all five of the panels I was on were panels I also wrote up. 

My first panel was about Women Loving Women on TV. It was me, another panelist, and the moderator. I was a little worried about this panel because the moderator said she was put on the panel by mistake and doesn’t even have a TV (she did fine as a mod - not all mods have to also partake in the talking, they can just ask questions of the panelists), and the other panelist never contacted either of us or showed up for the panel.

Fortunately, I am a well-prepared panelist and felt comfortable talking about this subject for the whole 75 minutes. But then the panel was scheduled against a panel on a similar topic and so anyway - three people showed up for the panel. Fortunately they were kinda fun and engaged people so it became more of a conversational panel than a formal presentation kind and I think it went well? This was my only panel this weekend that I wasn’t the moderator of. 

My next panel was about intersectionality on TV. I was also a lil worried about this one because it was just me and one other panelist, although we had some good chats online before the con so I wasn’t too worried. Fortunately, she convinced a friend to come sit on the panel with us so there was three of us - and both of my panelists had lots of awesome things to contribute. We also had a decent size panel for an evening time slot and got the audience involved too. I pulled one of my goofball tricks and made the audience do a lightning round question of a show they think does intersectionality well and everyone was able to come up with something, which was fun.

Right after that was my panel about SFF sitcoms which was a blast. This was even later in the evening, so we were all really punchy! It was me, a good friend, and another panelist I knew casually before. We wanted lots of audience participation and we got it - getting so many more recommendations than any of the 3 of us had even considered. And since it was a panel about comedies, we really just kinda relaxed and had fun with it.

That was all Friday. Big Day for me.

Saturday night, again a late night slot, I had my Bisexual Representation in TV and Film panel. This one I was not too worried about because I was asked to hand-staff it, since I had strongly suggested the panel be filled with Bi+ folks. So most of the panel was people I already knew and had paneled with before but also I snagged a couple of people I hadn’t previously talked to but who were also awesome.

The panel was in a large room and was fairly full, which I thought was really neat. I had a lot of my own notes on the subject, and did go off on a huge bit about the amazingness of Sara Ramirez and her two bisexual characters, but I also knew from previous convos that my fellow panelists had a lot of interesting things to say and they did not disappoint. It seemed like the audience had a lot of fun and the # for the program was pretty lively, so that’s always a good feeling.

Sunday afternoon was the panel I was MOST excited about. It was all about the themes of The Last Jedi. Like how cool is that? A whole panel not just about the movie in general, but specifically about the THEMES of the movie?! I was pumped that this panel even got through, much less that I got to be on it, much less that I got to moderate it.

And let me tell you something. My panelists? Were amazeballs. Like, the email convos we had ahead of time were already so smart and so nuanced and so full of different ideas and perspectives I was like !!!

And the panel went SO WELL. Like, there was such an equal exchange of like flow and information going back and forth. I feel like I really organized my own thoughts and questions for my panelists well and we all spent the whole panel making grabby hands for the mic because we were all so excited to respond to one another’s thoughts. 

It was FUN and THINKY and I could tell the audience was really engaged and we all laughed and discussed and disagreed and laughed more and it was probably the best time I have ever had on a panel. The #TLJThemes on twitter is just chock-full of both quotes from my awesome panelists and thinky-thoughts from the very smart audience who I sadly did NOT end up having time to get questions or comments from because literally the moment we finally had a pause of any kind? It was right on the dot time for the panel to end LOL. 

So yea, wow, that was just exhilarating? IDK, I am such a nerd.

But yea, so I had everything from 3 audience members to packed rooms and no fellow panelists to crowded tables of excited panelists struggling to get a word in and everything in between and I feel sort of confident that I did well with all of it? So that’s neat. 

Last year I didn’t moderate any of my panels and I found I really missed it, which is why I volunteered to do more moderating this year and it was a Good Life Choice and I plan to do more of it in the future. I adore WisCon for being the kind of place that a basic nobody like myself who has done nothing with her life besides watch a crapton of television can sit on panels and moderate panels and contribute to panels and do things like this that I enjoy and feel like am good at and it’s just such a good. *cuddles the general idea of WisCon*

And beyond the panels - both that I attended and sat on - I had a really wonderful con this year. I was very social and decided to get over my awkwardness and just kinda Utilize my awkwardness because, like, we’re all geeks here so just stop worrying and be a dork and have fun and it worked? I talked to so many people, introduced myself to so many people, made so many connections, hung out more specifically with some of my favorite people, and just sort of made sure to hang out in public spaces and smile a lot and that helped? Who knew. 

There were really only just the three bumps in my otherwise good experience.

1. The panel. If you didn’t already see about this, I attended a panel that very unfortunately derailed into Nazi apologism and it was super gross and upsetting but lots of people spoke up against the panelist in question and the con acted quickly to ban her and are continuing to discuss if she can ever come back so at least that part is good but UGH UGH UGH that was so gross.

2. My laptop broke on me. Fortunately, I have amazing friends and the one I was rooming with doesn’t use hers a ton so she let me use it a lot so I didn’t have to be off-twitter much because a lot of the con happens in the twitter tags and I would have been very sad to miss out on that. I got home and my other amazing friend and roomie helped me get my laptop into the shop quickly and it’s back now which is a huge relief because as a mostly homebound and frankly mostly sofabound extrovert? I need my laptop. I NEED my Laptop. 

3. Life with chronic illness sadly does not stop when you are at an event you love. Even when you save up all your spoons, and spend weeks building up your stamina after a winter of mostly hibernating, and use all of your meds, and allow yourself more caffeine and different foods than usual, and work really hard on self-care. Still, you are chronically ill. 

I am able to push myself a LOT at WisCon because of how it fuels me socially and intellectually and creatively and in so many other ways. But that still only goes so far. And especially with having two late nights on panels - I did not make it to any parties or other late night social events this year. Nor did I make any early morning panels - and there were some I really Really wanted to go to. 

But that’s life and I still got to cram SO MUCH in and spent lots of time in the hot tub soaking and also having poolcon with some amazing folks and had lobbycon and actually made time to have meal/snack times with people instead of just the usual “we should totally make sure to ...”

There were a lot of people I only saw briefly or missed entirely that I’d have loved to have had more time with, but I guess when we finally invent the time turners I can have all that plus go to ALL the panels. 

Oh! And I did go to an amazing reading this year. I often skip readings but I knew a bunch of the people at this one and adore them so I went and it made me feel and think a lot of things and adore these people even more, so there’s that. 

And PHEW I think that’s it. I have tons of thoughts about like, found family and female friendships and stuff mostly about my own amazing platonic poly tribe - some of whom come along to WisCon with me and we get to like BE together in shared living space and then go off and have our own adventures and bond with other people and then introduce one another to those people and it just enhances the whole thing and YAY MY PEOPLE. And uh, yea, one of said peoples who sadly no longer lives in the area just came back over to my place from our other friend’s house and is only going to be here for another day and a half so I’m gonna go run off and spend time with her while I can. 

[sundaynightbombers-blog]

ON BENEFITS OF FANFICTION; OR, VETERAN OF THE FLAME WARS

            I was flipping through some old writings of mine a while ago, all while re-watching the French animated series Code Lyoko in an attempt to recapture my childhood or something, with the looming deadline of this week’s post over my head. Oh, and an unfinished album review for a metal CD that came out last week. Good times.

            Anyways, I was looking through some of my older stuff when I stumbled upon that cringe-inducing aspect of my childhood that made me not only regret undertaking this bit of literary skullduggery, but also made me remember way too many things all at once. This was, of course, all of my old fanfiction stories from when I used to kill time on deviantART.

            Oh yeah. We’re talking about this.

            Alright, firstly, let’s get the obvious out of the way: fanfiction has an immensely controversial reputation, one it’ll probably always have. Fan labour will always be around, fan art will always be popular, and fans will always remake their favourite films, either by their lonesome or through mass collaboration, and fanfiction will always be written and read. Fan labour and its many facets are, honestly, some of the most impressive, sincere, and genuinely cool enactments of creativity that’s readily available, but where there’s fandom, there is unease. Ever since the internet became a viable meeting ground for fans of, well, anything, it’s also become a battleground-cum-farmer’s market of fan-made goods and loving tributes to anything and everything that has a copyright slapped on it and has existed at some point. For every twenty pieces of fan art, there’ll be forty arguments being carried out across countless forum posts on the very same subject.

            Fanfiction’s place amongst all of this is one of distinction and notoriety. The art of using established characters and settings and telling your own stories with them reaches all the way back to the death of Sherlock Holmes, where fans resurrected the character for their own stories after Sir Arthur Conan Doyle killed the character off. Since then, fans crafting their own adventures for their favourite characters have long become a popular way of not only displaying their affection, but also showing off their own writing and storytelling skills. It should also be noted that the idea of having two male characters enter a non-canonical relationship started not with the anime boom, but with Star Trek fans. In fact, the seminal novel Killing Time had heavy undertones of a Kirk/Spock relationship in its original manuscript, something that’d been well-established and practiced among female fans of the show since the original run. Fanfiction has a seminal place in the development of modern fan culture, and there just isn’t no denying it.

            But as I was reading back through these old fanfics of mine, I realized something. Fanfiction, especially nowadays, has this uncanny ability to see where a person was at the time of writing a fanfic. A lot of general queasiness about fanfiction comes from not only the sometimes subpar writing on display, or the admittedly cringe-inducing sex scenes that sometimes play out in an unsurprising amount of these stories, but also the large amount of times when the story starts to play out like someone’s diary rather than a cohesive narrative. I’m certainly guilty of this myself, and while it can certainly be uncomfortable to read for the uninitiated, other times it shows just how deeply connected someone is to what they’re writing. Sometimes, it takes someone else’s creation to get your deepest thoughts and feelings out, which is something that’s not so easily accepted.

            So why am I talking about fanfiction? Well, I think it’s because I believe that, like fan art or fan games or fan music or whatever, it has value to those who partake in it. It’s hard to sit here and really speak ill of something I’ve been involved with since I was young, but that doesn’t mean I understand why it usually elicits shocked laughter and uncomfortable side-glances from those who’ve seen some of the more questionable sides of the subject. The numerous ironic reading videos of people trying to stifle their laughter as they slog through a poorly-written overly-edgy My Little Pony fanfic can be hilarious, just as the idea of an erotic story involving Tracer from Overwatch getting gangbanged by the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles can confuse and horrify anyone who’s not the reader. It’s no secret that fans sometime use these forms of fan labour as conduits for their own oddly-specific fetishes and fantasies. It’s a way for teenagers to get out a lot of their angsty, underdeveloped emotions, all without resorting to real-world actions. It’s a weird, strangely personal world.

            But is it bad? Like, should we believe the horror stories we’ve heard and just shun anyone partakes in fanfiction?

            The reason looking through these old stories compelled me to write this is to highlight the good that comes from writing fanfiction and letting people do their thing when they write it. As someone who considers writing their natural talent, I can honestly confess that if I hadn’t started writing dumb human-girl-meets-alien-boy fanfics way way back in grade 7, I would’ve never planted the seed that made me realize that I actually have a way with the written word. Other people might think otherwise, and that’s fair, absolutely. But fanfiction is not only a way of expressing one’s love for a piece of media, or getting out of your head all those weird unrealistic self-insert fantasies, but I also see it as a genuine way of honing one’s abilities to write and tell stories.

            Hear me out: imagine having an idea where you think of a story, but instead of characters or setting or anything, you think of a scenario or a new way of telling a story, or an experimental way of structuring a multi-chapter story. Fanfiction gives writers a place to experiment without having to create characters or settings. Pick something you know by heart, and throw your ideas at it, see what happens. It can also allow creators to tap into that childlike sense of make-believe, when kids ran around their suburban backyards throwing imaginary Hadoukens at each other. You have your favourite characters, now go on new adventures!

            It’s really hard to summarize my feelings about fanfiction. I see why some don’t like it, I see why others, myself included, love it. As I come to the exhausted end of this, I sit here and try to think of why fanfiction still matters in a day and age where fan artists can make money off of their work, fan remakes warrant documentaries about their productions some decade or two later, and where fan games are more popular than ever. Hell, the Japanese have essentially chiseled their own economy out of fan works, just look up Dōjin on google, the numbers are STAGGERING. But, why do these niche, sometimes awkwardly constructed stories still matter?

            Well, I think it’s the freedom that comes with it. It’s far from popular, and remains only a minor niche format these days, but the freedom of the written word is a beautiful thing. And fanfiction, in manners both fantastic and horrifying, may just be one of the ultimate exercises in creative freedom. At the top of the pile are works like Fallout Equestria and Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality¸ while at the bottom you have the eternally-infamous My Immortal. And everything between, and below. It’s a strange world, definitely not for all. But I can’t stay mad at it. In a way, I owe my creative life to it.

            Still, Tracer getting spitroasted by Donatello and Leonardo does bother me. And I don’t even like Overwatch.

 ~M.C.

[a-writing-bear]

[PruCan] Chapter 4: Soft-Spoken Calling, They Want Their Shyness Back

Ao3 Link:

http://archiveofourown.org/works/11159997/chapters/24905436

This Has been cross-posted onto FF & Ao3 under Aliases: BearBooper

You can read this Fic on Tumblr under ‘Keep Reading’

Previous Chapter

Fandom: Hetalia Axis Powers

Main Pairing: Gilbert Beilschmidt & Matthew Williams (Prussia & Canada)

AU:  College AU - Art Student Matthew and Media/Film Student Gilbert

Age Rating/Mature:  Teen And Up Audiences (12+ due to mentions of mature themes as well as swearing)

Trigger Warnings: Recreational Drugs & minor connotations of anxiety (Future addiction to mention themes such as addiction, rape etc.)

Within his short 18 years of his life, Gilbert knew he fell short of a lot of things. Most of the time the list of his personal struggles were propelled far away from the contemptuous moments of strife that he was forced to worry about currently so in turn of all that he wasn’t used to being open to his subconscious pacing mind. All the repressed trouble he cooked up was bubbling over- much like Arthur’s attempt of ‘soup’ from last week. Whenever he seemed to not be distracted by a family issue presented by his brother, it was coursework that acted as blockade from having a social life, or sometimes the extremities faced when dealing with pesters from Elizabeta and Roderich (Only God knows what those two would be doing on a weekend...); even the occasional whining from a certain Frenchman.

A chime of a small bell over the café’s door announced his presence to the other inhabitants. The oaky smell of old counters flooded his senses and the light yellow walls plastered with generic atmospheric photos of Himaruya Academy’s campus populated some of the emptier spaces (You could tell these were taken by students as well, what with the tiny label under each photo). Aromatic aromas of freshly brewed coffee and whiffs of alluring chai lattes made Gilbert smile warmly, it was if he had been hugged by comfort itself. You would think a café would be empty at around 10 pm, but it seems like the need for caffeine for any student was a constant. The distance between his dorm hall and the small campus café was luckily close, a breeze of a stroll that delighted any exhausted student, thus his tardiness in his arrival was actually inexcusable. He mulled over trying to produce an excuse to give later to explain his delay… Of course, his overall excitement was at an all-time low considering Gilbert would have to deal with an infuriated Ludwig-

“Seriously Gil? You’re late 20 minutes”

Speaking of the organised stick-in-the-mud devil, his younger brother (Who, unfairly, had grown taller than the paler of the two) was eyeing him with annoyance and the albino could practically feel the dagger-like stares pushing into his chest. A cockier-than-usual ‘I’m more organised than you and you know it' looks of disapproval caught him off guard… Oh god is he going to say something about the new shir-

“Mein Gott, How the hell are you funding your wardrobe when you can’t even pay me back?”

“Lovely to see you too dear West, I’m doing fine, Gee thanks! How thoughtful for you to ask.”

Sarcasm and mock pleasure rolled off his tongue easily and with a sublime sense of satisfaction. But as he went to sit down at the small table he noticed the change in mood. facing diligently and apprehensively at the stern look of his brother he realised that his obvious joke will not go without consequence…clearly, Ludwig had something serious this time and the call for the older sibling was not an act of choice but instead an act of necessity. Gilbert gulped. Fidgeting slightly, preparing to be the bearer of bad news, the blue-eyed sibling attempted to keep his voice lower than usual and to keep the conversation at a seemingly okay level of panic:

“We can’t exactly quit our jobs this holiday, and my calculations state that we might even have to pick up an extra shift. There is no way we can visit Uncle this year.”

Gilbert flinched and could swear he felt his heart break a little. To others the news may not seem to be ‘that serious’ – sure it was bad but being heartbroken was an over exaggeration right? Consider the fact you had been working your FUCKING ass off your whole life, juggling multiple jobs while studying with a crappy stream of income and pay check-to-pay check funding, being robbed of countless hours of personal time that in your eyes were a privilege, never a minimum, and last but not least the breakdowns when you realised you felt so alone. This news would make your heart shatter like fragile glass. ‘Fuck karma, Lady Luck couldn’t give him a day off,’ It seemed like dog days would never be chased off. Unbelievable. Inconceivably pissed off. Flipping the table, walking out and burying himself in the nearest graveyard felt like a reasonable move as of right now.

“What. The. FUCK.”

“Calm down we can handl-“

“I can’t!- There has to be some miscalculation, last I checked we had enough for that break, I was given time off and a pay raise! This shouldn’t- What-WHY? I PRACTICALLY DIED.”

“Look I get it- I’m not happy either?! But shouting won’t do us any help either!”

He was fuming and he could see the fury shining in his company’s eyes as well. Growing up Gilbert always hid his vents and rants and kept his true thoughts away from the impressionable mind of his sibling but at times like this, it was clear what they were both thinking. Ludwig must have known this news hit his brother harder than it would him, and those awkward compassionate pats were a pitiful attempt at family comfort. They never really used affectionate gestures in the past, there was never any time for stuff like that.

Years and years, harking as far back as the tender age of 14, he could recall working for an extra bit of pocket money. Pocket money soon evolved into a college fund for himself and West within 2 years. Not to mention the small amounts he had to save for indulging to keep the sanity that prevented him from turning into an emotionless working robot. Thankful was not a strong enough word to describe what Gilbert felt for his uncle, there wasn’t any word that could achieve the level of gratitude the boy held for the old man. Respect towards the old man was something he taught Ludwig early on (Come to think of it, they moved in with their Uncle when Ludwig was only...12?), even if the latter didn’t understand their situation at that very young age. Spaced out due to the reminiscing he hadn’t noticed the warm cup of coffee that had been kindly delivered to him (Yes, a nice cup of coffee at 10 pm, go college life!), Ludwig’s strong voice started to come back to the forefront of his attention;

“You take your rest, you deserved the break, Bruder. I can do an extra shift- Feli says his shift has an extra slot anyway that I can take and it’s not very long, we just need to rearrange the bank allocations…” The blonder German was droning on and was in actual fact, talking to himself more than he was meaning to actually converse with the other.

Sighing into his now slightly cold coffee, the teen pondered over his choices and reviewed his recent schedules: wake up, eat, Attend lectures, go to multiple work shifts throughout the day during his study hours, do some coursework till the morning light and pass out, repeat. He had started slacking this continues the cycle of college-life torture. He had finally worked enough to wager a good break that his boss from his large shift (A shitty – but hey it’s decent? – 7 bucks an hour) at the local cinema, an undesirable night shift that no one wanted to partake when they could be partying. Only this month had he been throwing away his frazzled mind with hook-ups and well-deserved parties with his former Misfits.  He had ached for those nights again, and for a short while, he had them back. What was the point of being a ‘creative’ mind when you can’t produce any of the garbage you actually want to?! Being stuck in the mantra of: “How many tickets sir? Which seat..? Hope you enjoy the show!” was the cause of the internal bomb of irritation that ticked faster and faster and Gilbert wasn’t even sure he would have any fuse left soon.

I’ve got to go. Was it ever possible to become unattached to reality? God I wish, with haste Gilbert suddenly got up and bolted out with mutters of incomprehensible frustration.

“Gilbe-Where are you goi-Hey we aren’t” the protests over his disappearance faded into the background as Gilbert left to walk back to his room. He could really do with some music.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE LIVES NEXT DOOR?! HAS HE HURT YOU? OH MY GOD”

Matthew lamented over his wasted time, the paint covered boy had nestled down on his bed with his ruffled hair and head thrown back onto the cushy red covers, He could be actually painting right now…or y’know…seeing Tim for a drug hit. Eyes shut with another exhale of boredom as Alfred rambled on, shooting an overdose of “He’s the bad kind, he’s not good, and he could be a murderer” lecture into the strawberry blonde’s tired ears. You would think a prodigy with a near IQ of 160 would be able to identify a real threat.

Sometimes he really just wanted to forget about this.

“I don’t think we are even thinking of the same person Al” blurting out quietly, still trying to zone out from his brother’s incessant fussing. “Have you even met him?”

“I don’t neeeed to meet him. I KNOW he’s bad for you, I don’t want him touching and getting all up in my little brother’s space and…poisoning him with all the college nonsense.”

Bullshit, poison what? I already drink and take- Ahh that’s right he doesn’t know about the ‘college nonsense’ I actually do participate in. Woops.

“I have no idea what you are talking about, hell you’re starting to sound old like Artie”

“I am not-I am NOT like Artie! Why the sudden interest in this Gilbert GUY ANYWAY??” This had dragged on for an hour and Matthew needed to make a dash for Tim’s house if he wanted to get done in time to come back reasonably sober.

“Don’t you have some project to do Alfie? It’s getting late and I want to do some work-Besides wouldn’t you want to call Kiku~” 1 point to Matthew, He had gotten his brother to look off in revelation and gain some red tinge on the cheeks. Kiku, a Japanese student who his American sibling had met and been pining for, was located at Himaruya Academy’s Tokyo campus (Mostly shortlisted to ‘The Deen Campus’ after its association). The two had been introduced during their foundation year and it was clear his sibling had a very big soft spot for the guy, so much so after the Japanese student transferred back to Japan they kept in touch with long Skype calls and endless texts. They, to quote: “Are n-not dating!! Kiku’s Not even interested…in guys…..or me.”

Hurriedly and trying to look less embarrassed, Alfred scuttled out. ‘Finally’. A glance at his watch told Matthew he would need to leave now or else Tim will call him out for bailing- ‘I am not gonna lose this cus of Al goddammit’ – Grabbing his trademark and overused hoodie, the stocky 18 year old climbed out of the way too small dorm window. Armed with his phone and car keys, he clambered into the cramped car and drove steadily down out the campus to his friend’s rented house; a typical scene for bad cliché college parties – happily it was not time for any party. As idiotic as it may seem, Strolling through the front door would not be a good idea as his childhood friend always warned him his sister would not appreciate visitors at this time (Matthew was 100% Laura didn’t even know Tim did pot, nonetheless that he did pot WITH Mattie), so he took the safer route (‘Well, physically more dangerous’) and climbed onto a small balcony on the side of the house, softly knocking on the glass that had the curtains drawn-

“You’re late.” Looking up to face his taller companion, the Canadian heard the gruff voice of annoyance as he pulled back the curtains and the sliding glass door opened.

“Sorry T, Al got me caught up in some bullshit, the hoser kept me busy…” The scarfed house owner moved aside and silently invited him into the messy room. On closer inspection, messy would not be applicable – while the floor was covered in some clothes, questionable (?) magazines and beanbags, the dark blue walls hoisted clean neat shelves which held a multitude of knickknacks.

“..You know you could’ve gotten started without me?

“Hah. Yeah right, where’s the fun in that Mattie?” A small tired-sounding chuckle flowed from the taller of the two, a bong had been passed towards Matthew who had founded himself cosy in a familiar beanbag. The haze felt good already. Matthew took it eagerly and grumbled: “How much do I owe you?”

“Honestly…Too much. Hah, No but like come on Mattie, I thought we got over this already. I’m not gonna charge a friend for this stuff. Especially not you.” Grinning with humour the Dutchman took the beanbag opposite to him.

It was all very strange at the beginning of this whole ordeal with his Dutch friend. They had grown up together and Matthew had very good relations with the ‘Van-der-Berg’ family. After joining the Academy he was glad he at least had a recognisable older pal but throughout all of the years that had gone by knowing him, he always noticed the precise and businessman-like nature of this man. Yet when he offered to help Matthew get his usual weed (Something Matt had easier access to in Canada and the times he visited the Netherlands and definitely something you don’t shout about) he didn’t charge a single penny. Hell, this fucker had once charged him after Matthew dragged them to the bathroom at camp…when they were 12 YEARS OLD. This guy always needed wanted to make a dime. Except for drugs. Which…was insanely strange AND expensive. ‘Especially not me? Ah Tim, I still really don’t know you.’  He tried not to think about it so much as when there was sweet dreamy smoke being smothered and pushed into Matthew’s body.

Sometimes it is possible to forget about things, you just need the right stuff.

[teenyplantkid]

Would you answer all 30 of the real questions, please?

that’s not a tall order or anything x’D

1. What do you like and dislike about the way you were brought up?

I wish that my parents had given me more freedom over my self; mind and body. That I had been allowed more creativity. I am thankful, however, how they encouraged my reading and pursuit of knowledge; even if it lead to uncomfy conversations on their part. I love the fact that I grew up in nature. I never saw a real city until I was 18. While I wish I had been socialized more, I am thankful for grwing up in a rural area.

2. What do you believe are the 5 biggest issues we face as humans now? 

Climate change, gentrification, not wanting to face when we are the issue and working to resolve our behaviors and actions, greed, and ignoring childhood wounds.

3. If you could write a novel what would it be about? 

It would be sapphic. I don’t know if it would be cottagecore, or if it would be murder (think Tommy and Tuppence, but they’re GAY <3).

4.  What are your beliefs regarding the universe and the nature of life and death?

I believe we are all connected, we all share parts of one soul. I do believe in the Judaeo-Christian God, but I do not accept all teachings of the Bible to be, pardon the pun, gospel. I do believe in life after death, I believe in spirits, demons, and angels. Am I ready to die? Absolutely not. I have a fear of life after death (due to my Southern Christian parents, and their teachings of fire and brimstone to those who are not cis hets). But I know that someday, I will welcome it, like an old friend.

 5. Talk about the best dream you’ve ever had. 

I was a Hobbit who lived in Mirkwood, and I was basically Radagast. I was a forest swamp witch. It was amazing.

 6. Do you want children? Why or why not? 

I long for children so desperately. All I’ve ever wanted to be was a mother (even if I said otherwise, I said otherwise in fear). I, however, have polycistic ovarian syndrome, and I used to have cancer in my uterus (potentially still do??? unsure - haven’t had a check up in a hot minute...>.>). So, I know that not only will getting pregnant be difficult, but keeping the baby to term, and it being born healthy is... complicated. I wish to have at least one child naturally. If I still desire children afterwards, I will adopt. However, I only have 9 more years before my uterus will be removed.

 7. What are your views on gender equality? 

??? how is this a question. There is a gap between genders; but also, people need to realize  that there isn’t just “man” or just “woman”. Gender is a spectrum, and as such that complicates the gender inequality issue even more. However, cis men do have the upper hand with how society has been structured to favor them. 

 8. How do you feel about cultural appropriation?

If something is done out of ignorance, and it continues once there has been dialogue and education, then it is wrong. I am white. My “heritage” is that of Celtic, Welsh, Norse, French, and Native American (my great-great grandmothers, so VERY minimal... just call me Elizabeth Warren lol) origins. I try to “connect” with my ancestors the best that I can, while still acknowledging that I AM white, so I am very careful about trying to not over step my bounds. (for instance, I will not ever partake in tribal rituals, tribal and native magick is off limits [although their knowledge of herbs and what not is appreciated], etc etc.)

 9. Where are the 3 places you most want to travel to and why? 

I wish to go to all the National Parks in the U.S., specifically Denali, as I am from Alaska, and that is one of the names given to me when I was born. I would also love to travel to Wales and Ireland, as that is where my family was from before they immigrated to the U.S. (fun fact; my family were probably witches, and they left the New England area during the Salem Witch Trials)

10. What are some things you wish you’d been taught as a child that you weren’t? 

Comprehensive, no shamed, sex education. Gender equality. Other religions. Spirituality. How to discover and express myself. 

 11. Talk about some of the biggest mistakes you’ve ever made? 

Allowing myself to give parts of me to those who mistreated them, time and time again. (This goes for sexual/romantic relationships, as well as friends and family.) Allowing fear to take a hold of me, when what I should have done is shout to the rooftops what was actually going on. 

12. Do you feel you are in control of your destiny or do you believe fate controls the course of your life? 

We are given the freedom to make our own choices, however, we must allow the consequences - negative and positive - to take their course, and do their thang. This, of course, does not take into account the economic-social struggles some people are born into, that is not ones fault, nor is that the cards life has dealt; that is a consequence of a flawed system that damages everyone except those who are rich.

 13. Do you believe is ghosts/ spirits? If so why do you think they exist? 

??? Why wouldn’t they. They appear in every religion, and even to those who aren’t religious.

14. Do you think there are any other forms of intelligent life in the universe? 

Yes. I’m not that self-absorbed to think otherwise lol

 15. What do you think constitutes a truly healthy relationship?

The desire to learn. Learn about one another. Learn how to communicate with them. How to love them. How to please them. Learn what sets them off. Learn what makes them happy. If you don’t want to learn, if you don’t want to sacrifice - you have no business being in a relationship. They have to want to learn, too. Also... learn when to step away. 

 16. How would you like to live your life? 

COTTAGECORE STONED FOREST WITCH WHO TEACHES HISTORY AT THE LOCAL COLLEGE that is all

17. Talk about a time someone treated you badly. 

I have been raped and molested by several people. That’s all I need to say.

18. Talk about a time you treated someone else badly. 

I have cheated on one of my exes. I knew for a month before I did (we were long distance), that I no longer loved him. Then, I was able to be with the person that I did love, and I cheated. I broke up with him a week later, and never told him the true reason. I still feel like shit over it. 

 19. What is something you can’t do that you really wish you could? 

live without anxiety LMAO

 20. What are your initial thoughts when somebody tells you they’re religious?

“oh boy”

 21. Were you more of the victim or the bully as a child? 

Victim - but I was annoying as hell so I kinda get it.

 22. How have you changed since you were a child and how have you stayed the same? 

I age regress (usually involuntarily) due to childhood trauma, but I have grown so much that I can’t even describe to you... I am not the same person that I was as a child. Thank god for that. 

 23. Are you the kind of person who has a large group of friends or are you someone who has just a few people they’re close to? 

I have a LOT of acquaintances. I care for a lot of people, but I only truly share myself with my 6 close friends.

 24. What qualities have you got from your parents? 

My anger, stubbornness, and desire for a pretty space I get from my mother. (Also my body type and physical health issues + childhood wounds.) From my father I get my personality, conflict-avoidance, anarchist-tendencies, and love of nature (and mental health issues). 

 25. What is one thing you wish somebody would say to you right now? 

I wish my boyfriend would say “let’s watch HP or LOTR and have sex” (you asked, anon)

 26. Describe your ideal partner? 

Someone who loves me where I am at, and wishes to see me grow; and doesn’t get upset if that growth doesn’t happen in the time or manner in which they would prefer. 

 27. Describe yourself as a person? 

Kooky, spastic, traumatized, jokster, stoner, witch, fandom lover, animal lover, weirdo who is bi as HELL.

28. What things don’t you do right now that you feel like you morally should?

I need to stop consuming animal products... I say as I am eating animal products.

 29. What is your star sign and how accurate do you think it is in describing you?

My sun sign is Aquarius, moon sign is Cancer, with a Capricorn rising... and yes. It is painfully accurate.

 30. What sort of terms are you on with your exes?

hahahahahhahahahahahahahahahahahhahahahahahahhaha

i only talk to like one guy that i dated, and we were never official (although BRO did i love him and invest in him). everyone else is either blocked or unfriended. there is a reason why i broke up with them.