#and I absolutely HATE that it’s sitting pretty as the third most written fandom that I have

[randomingoftherandomness]

.

[lilydalexf]

Old School X is a project interviewing X-Files fanfic authors who were posting fic during the original run of the show. New interviews are posted every Tuesday.

Interview with tatooedlaura (Laura Sprys)

Laura has 28 fics at Gossamer, but the big treasure trove of her stories is at AO3, where she has 193 fics. Thank goodness for the richness of the X-Files and for talented, creative people like Laura who can find so many interesting ways to tell tales in the show’s universe. Big thanks to Laura for doing this interview.

Does it surprise you that people are still interested in reading your X-Files fanfics and others that were posted during the original run of the show (1993-2002)?

Maybe reading mine but reading older fic in general is something I still do and something I still find entertaining. I do wish i could get into my old fics and post a warning that some of those were written before the author: ever had a drink, ever had sex, ever had a boyfriend, ever lived on her own, ever had a real job, or ever experienced much of anything in the real world.

Then again, fanfic is a perfect time capsule for the age and it’s always fun to see where the originals started and how they’ve grown.

What do you think of when you think about your X-Files fandom experience? What did you take away from it?

Back in the day and up and through today, it has always been a fun experience. From it, I’ve learned to love writing. I’ve learned that fans are crazy, weird, wonderful, generous, talented, committed, passionate, and imaginative. In a fandom, you can think whatever you wish and write about anything you like and because I’ve been around so long, I’ve gotten to watch the storylines shift and the relationships change ...

Social media didn't really exist during the show's original run. How were you most involved with the X-Files online (atxc, message board, email mailing list, etc.)?

Originally, I never had much interaction with people other than ones who sent emails commenting on my fanfic … the internet at my parents house was dial-up and I had to access through the AOL free disks that arrived in the mail so, for the most part, I didn’t have the bandwidth or the connection speed to do more than upload stories and download episode guides.

Good lord, I remember submitting a story and having to wait upwards of two days to two weeks before the new batch of stories was posted ... then ephemeral came around and you could actually have your story up in under a day ... all ya'll who started on tumblr and ao3, you have it great, let me tell you :)

One thing that stands out in my mind still (and I’m still friends with her on Facebook) was a woman from western Canada who I stumbled across somewhere while looking for the blooper reels. She offered to send me her copies on VHS for my collection. I don’t think she asked for payment and one day, a package arrived from a lovely woman near Lethbridge, bloopers playable, tapes labeled in clear printing. I still appreciate that 20 some odd years later :)

What did you take away from your experience with X-Files fic or with the fandom in general?

Fandoms are crazy places. Tread lightly at first but enjoy what you want, ignore what you don’t, rewrite what you hate, and write what you love. Don’t be an asshole when you don’t agree with someone … when you do, tell them …

What was it that got you hooked on the X-Files as a show?

I was on board from the first episode. It was a show about two people who you felt were destined to be together but weren’t, and wouldn’t be for years. It was a cop show about aliens and a monster show with cops. I was in the right place at the right time in the right frame of mind and there was just something that clicked and I never looked back. Friends were not allowed to call me on Friday night and once it switched to Sunday, I made sure that my parents got us on early evening bowling league so we’d be home in time to watch. Even my boyfriend (eventual husband) knew to shut the hell up from 9-10pm, even if he was sitting next to me on the couch (with my parents in their chairs watching as well)

Also, my 56-year-old dad had a crush on Scully from the start so that was entertaining as hell as well

What got you involved with X-Files fanfic?

I have been writing stories in my head for literally as long as I can remember. Watching some episode, I honestly don’t remember which one, I suddenly had an idea for a story about Mulder and Scully. I had never written a story with pre-existing characters before and it was totally foreign to me. How do you write a character with a current storyline. It was weird, it was difficult, it was some of the most fun I’d had writing up to that point.

Suddenly, I didn’t have to explain or describe the characters, think of jobs and mundane things … they already had those … and it was great.

Honest-to-God, my first fic was written, in pencil, on a yellow legal pad by flashlight while lying with my head at the foot of my bed so I could see my parents coming down the hall if they happened to wake up at midnight to go to the bathroom. Later fics were written by the light of an 10” TV/VCR combo with me still lying with my head at the foot of the bed. I still have those old legal pads somewhere and I remember having to type them in secret, having to wait until the house was empty for 20 minutes to an hour at a time. Uploading them was always unnerving because of the slow dial-up and the fact that I didn’t have my own email address, but had to use my dad’s. I’d have to make sure to check it whenever I could, intercept the feedback I’d get off gossamer.

I was such a damn rebel.

What is your relationship like now to X-Files fandom?

Well, I now know how to interact with people given tumblr and AO3 but it hasn’t changed much. I contribute a little more now that I understand posting on social media but mostly, I still just write like a fiend and post, read voraciously and give kudos and likes often, comment some and reblog.

Were you involved with any fandoms after the X-Files? If so, what was it like compared to X-Files?

I dabbled and have a favorite ‘Fringe’ fic … I tried to read a Harry Potter fic once … I type ‘West Wing’ occasionally in ao3 and tumblr ...

And nothing, absolutely nothing, has ever caught me like the X-Files did in regards to the fandom experience.

I have shows I watch and re-watch and re-watch but no two characters have ever had me writing and thinking and planning like Mulder and Scully. No other combo has ever made me write upwards of 300,000 or more total and still have plenty of stories to tell.

I’m okay with this.

Who are some of your favorite fictional characters? Why?

Aside from Mulder and Scully and the gentlemen three of Frohike, Langley, and Byers … I love all Scully’s nieces and nephews in my ‘Life’ series … I also love Corduroy (picture books), Harold (purple crayon fame), Neville Longbottom, the characters from my own novels, Katniss (book not movie), Anne Shirley, Elnora (from the Limberlost), Will Stanton/Merriman/Barney/Jane from ‘Dark is Rising’ and 10,459 others …

I’m a children’s librarian so most of my favorite books are those written for the younger and YA crowd. I like my job :)

Do you ever still watch The X-Files or think about Mulder and Scully?

I watch this show all the damn time. I will think about Mulder and Scully when I have nothing else to think about, normally writing and editing whatever story I may have in the hopper at the time about them.

My husband laughs when I have the show on. He knows all the episodes with me and it’s one of my comfort shows that I don’t have to pay attention to when it’s on. During it, I have edited books, decorated cookies, been sick, been recovering, simply wasted a perfectly good day because I could.

My 17-year-old daughter keeps it on while she does homework and works out.

It’s a staple at our house and no one is allowed to make fun of it, even though we all know that parts are completely ‘make fun-able’

Do you ever still read X-Files fic? Fic in another fandom?

I read fic all the time … I have worked my way through AO3 starting from the beginning and if it was more easily readable on a phone, I’d work my way, once again, through gossamer.

Restated from above: I dabbled and have a favorite ‘Fringe’ fic … I tried to read a Harry Potter fic once … I type ‘West Wing’ occasionally in ao3 and tumblr ...

Do you have any favorite X-Files fanfic stories or authors?

I have all kinds of favorites on tumblr but right now, I honestly don’t remember most of the names … I pretty much read everything that comes through my dashboard and every few days, i read through the newest posts on AO3 … I love you all!!

What is your favorite of your own fics, X-Files and/or otherwise?

Of X-Files fics, I love my newer stuff … I read “Life” and its sequels every few months … ‘Your Place or Mine’ is another one I will read … actually, I’ll just say it .... I read all my own fic over and over again …

With fic, you get to write the characters as you want to see them and write situations that you want to see … I write for myself most of all and I love to read what I wrote :)

Do you think you'll ever write another X-Files story? Or dust off and post an oldie that for whatever reason never made it online?

I write them all the damn time. I have tons of snippets and half-finished that I occasionally glean things from but while sometimes, old stuff morphs into new, sometimes, it just needs to gather that dust and live a quiet little forgotten life in some backhand folder on my dropbox account ...

Do you still write fic now? Or other creative work?

First question is answered above.

As for other creative work, I have published two YA novels, have the third in that series in editing … I have five other novels in the hopper in various stages of ‘good lord this needs an edit or twelve’ …

I am writing things constantly in my head or on my laptop … most is crap … stome sticks … some turns into fic and some turns into books …

But the point is, I am writing, in some form, at all time :)

Where do you get ideas for stories?

Some two sentence conversation will spark an idea … the line of a song will inspire an idea … a word will start a sentence which will turn into a paragraph which will tumble straight into a story … and sometimes, stuff just pops in my head for no damn reason at all ...

What's the story behind your pen name?

On gossamer, I am L. Sprys because that was my name at the time :)

On tumblr and AO3, I’m tatooedlaura because my name is Laura and I have, now, six tattoos (yes, I spelled it wrong in my handle but that’s life) … when I decided on the name, I think I only had two

Do your friends and family know about your fic and, if so, what have been their reactions?

They do now … it took me years to crack and tell them … my husband has never read them, nor have any of the people I have told (as far as I know)

Now, I don’t really care who knows … I’ll tell them I write smutty X-Files fanfiction and family-friendly X-Files fanfiction …

I am too old at this point to be embarrassed by what I like to do. If they laugh at me, I tell them they only get to laugh when they’ve published a book and I pull up my books on Amazon … I’ve only had to do that once and it shut them right the hell up …

Is there a place online (tumblr, twitter, AO3, etc.) where people can find you and/or your stories now?

Gossamer: L. Sprys

Tumblr and AO3: tatooedlaura

Is there anything else you'd like to share with fans of X-Files fic?

I love you! I see you! I appreciate you! I hope you enjoy! Don’t judge me for my grammar issues! I will never be able to spell the word ‘excersize’!

(Posted by Lilydale on April 27, 2021)

[arsenicpanda]

So, I was tagged by the lovely @sullypants for this meme, like, two weeks ago, but I’m really bad at perceiving and measuring time, so I’m doing it now instead orz.

How many works do you have on AO3?

Five, one of which is a literal drabble, an exact 100 words, and ymmv on whether it should be its own fic.

What’s your total AO3 word count?

23,447, which is way more than I expected and and like almost a third of which is just chapter three of (ain’t it good to know) you’ve got a friend.

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

So, like, back in the day, I wrote self-insert Sailor Moon fanfiction (I know, I know), but the only stuff that’s still up is Final Fantasy VII fic (including one on FFN that hasn’t been taken down solely because someone favorited it and, as someone who always gets bummed when a favorite fic vanishes, it’s forever up as a result) and Riverdale fic.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Broseph, I only have five fics up on AO3, but here’s the order anyway, from most to least:

(day)dreams can come true

wet dreams may come

(ain't it good to know) you've got a friend

Cancelled Plans

The Looming Fog and Other Strange Happenings

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I do my best to, but, uh, I’m not great at it in terms of timeliness (I’ve certainly got some that have been sitting waiting for a response for months, and I’ll get to them eventually, I promise).  I’d like to think I’m pretty good at responding with substance though, when I finally get around to it.  Like, if you name a specific part you like, I will give you too much insight into that part.

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

Well, (ain’t it good to know) you’ve got a friend was originally going to have a very angsty ending, but a.) I changed that after a discussion with my friend and b.) it’s not finished anyway lol.  So, I guess wet dreams may come?  Like, I end it with a reference to that scene in End of Evangelion (because I had the opportunity for a parallel and it also shows Jughead’s opinion of himself, even though his actions are harmless, whereas Shinji’s...well.), and that’s pretty angsty, yeah?

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

I mean, only three of them have endings, so (day)dreams come true, probably, because its ending is just very sweet (the third fic with an ending, Cancelled Plans, has a comedic end, so it doesn’t really qualify in the first place).

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

Not normally, but I have written a mashup with the Lovecraft mythos, specifically as seen in the Arkham Horror boardgame; it’s The Looming Fog and Other Strange Happenings, and it is by default the craziest one I’ve written.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Nope.  I fly pretty under the radar.

Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Yup.  When you include incomplete/unpublished stuff, probably like 40-50% of stuff I write will contain some kind of smut because I find it sexy, fun, and intimate, and I’d say it’s...explicit?  I’m prone to writing dirty talk, mainly, because I will forever love writing dialogue and think in terms of it; also, the fics I’ve published (and like two other incomplete fics that haven’t been published) skirt around portraying the actual act of sex from the POV of the ones having sex.  Idk, that part’s really hard for me (no pun intended).

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don’t think so. 

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nope, and I probably never will because I’m bad at finishing things, and I wouldn’t want to have the pressure/guilt of working with another person and dragging down the completion of the fic.

What’s your all time favorite ship?

Lelouch/Shirley from Code Geass, 10000% THE otp, closely followed by Izaya/Namie from Durarara!!.

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

I’d really love to finish both my WIPs, but, uh, I doubt that will ever happen (I’m still completely stuck on the chapters that need finishing, and it doesn’t help that I have other fics taking up more space in my brain).

What’s your writing strengths?

I like to think I’m good at dialogue because I generally think in dialouge, but ymmv.

What’s your writing weaknesses?

Description and introspection, tbh, basically anything other than dialogue.  It’s just not how I think, so it often is something I have to fill in.  I generally have a solid picture in my head of what, exactly, is happening, but getting it down in words in a way that isn’t awkward af is v challenging for me.

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

I think you should avoid it if you can.  I think it’s best to adhere to Megatokyo’s strategy of putting any dialogue in another language in brackets (either [] or <>) to show that it’s in another language; you still get the meaning, with no footnotes, and you don’t have to hunt down a native speaker and ask them to help write the dialogue correctly in another language or make the decision over whether to include end/foot notes with the translations.  I do allow for some foreign language terms in dialogue, but then I think I mainly allow that in Naruto fic, and it’s mainly grandfathered in from years of fandom.  Like, it’d be super weird to see a fic talk about techniques and not jutsu, y’know?  And is there anything more awkward than an “upperclassmen” in place of “senpai”?

What’s the first fandom you wrote for?

Sailor Moon, but the first non-self insert stuff was Final Fantasy VII.

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

I think (day)dreams come true is the best fic I’ve written, hands down.  It has the strongest emotional core and emotional progression.  I also just really like the ending.  But there are also a few lines and moments in other fics that I’m really pleased with; for example, the lunch conversation in chapter three of (ain’t it good to know) you’ve got a friend is one of my absolute favorite things I’ve written.

And that’s it.  Ok, uh, tagging (god, I’m so bad at tagging people, and idek who’s done this, so apologies for if you’ve already finished) @gettingjuggiewithit @imreallyloveleee @satelliteinasupernova @heartunsettledsoul and anyone else who wants to do this

[unhinderedramblinglass]

So I am literally just speculating but something does not sit right with me about this last season. It doesn’t sit right with a lot of people but here’s my thing:

-knowing this is going to be the last season (I don’t know when they announced it but it was pretty early) and you went in, you started plot lines in s14 that would continue into s15 that just... didn’t go anywhere.

-you brought characters in and back for storylines that only fit to further the boys’ plotline, which would have been fine if you didn’t insist on killing them right after when the fandom has been asking you for years ‘please stop killing my faves’

-one of your actors, who’s been trying to convince you for years, goes full down knock down drag out for one whole ‘I love you’ scene to canonically make him gay (which you’ve been denying for years and made him sleep with women) and you decide to pepper little things throughout the entire season that shows Cas and Dean feel more for each other than just friendship. And instead of making Dean reciprocate, you kill him because of literary symmetry that stopped being relevant to the story in s4 or s5

-you then started a bunch of plot lines (and here is where it REALLY gets me) that were good this season. That were leading you up to the finale. And then you got to the middle of it. AND IT ALMOST SEEMS LIKE YOU JUST DIDN’T KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH YOUR CHARACTERS OF 15 YEARS SO YOU JUST DECIDED TO THROW OUT AT LEAST 9-10 YEARS WORTH OF CHARACTER GROWTH IN ORDER FOR IT TO REALLY ALL TIE TOGETHER ( I mean, come on. They did a whole ass episode bout why being normal sucks and then all they wanted at the end WAS TO BE NORMAL I CANT EVEN THIS SHOW WAS EVERYWHERE THIS SEASON)

-and then you just LITTER the season with meta and foreshadowing (Dean and Cas in purgatory, Dean and Cas ‘what’s real about any of it?’ ‘We are’, Sam and Eileen not knowing if it’s real and breaking up because of it ((which didn’t even matter come sam wanting to get his dick wet but I digress 🙃)) and then you have Garth who got to live, his episode is ‘the heroes journey’ and he ends up safe, happy, still settled with his wife LIKE A MIRROR FOR OUR BOYS) and then you just DECIDE THAT NONE OF THAT MATTERS

-and then you did exactly what we asked you not to do for years. No matter how many times we all said ‘we want to see the boys happy, together, all three of them. We want them together as a family, even Jack too and Claire and the wayward sisters, we literally wanted everyone safe, happy, alive.’ So it doesn’t matter which ending they were going to give us, it was always going to end in a way we never wanted or asked for. They literally heard... okay. We kill the boys. And then everyone, even if they aren’t dead yet... will be in Dean’s heaven. That sounds right. EXCEPT THE PEOPLE THAT WE WOULD HAVE WANTED THERE, THAT WOULD HAVE MADE IT REDEEMABLE FOR US (Samantha Ferris, Chad Lindberg, Osric, etc) WERE NEVER GOING TO BE THERE. it was going to be filled with his abusive father, a mother that we fleshed out and mourned for a second (or third I can’t remember) time, a vessel of the guy that very much tried everything to get away from you and your brother and this life and was super not okay with it and only did it to save his daughter but sure, he cares about you, and the actual fucking band Kansas. Who isn’t even dead!

So you did that. You did all that. And so here’s where i absolutely eat fire. Besides wanting to know why on earth this was done to our show after years of asking them not to, I want to know why it nearly felt like they were setting us up for another season. They knew that s15 would be the last way before they started writing. They had the time to write this well thought out ending and they could have taken it so many ways. They could have closed a loop, they could have tried again with the spinoff as I’m sure it would be phenomenal now. But everything they did, every plot hole and plot line they opened and never closed again... feels like it should have been a set up for s16. Now maybe I have too much anger and this was done accidentally, but I don’t think so.

Now I want to add a disclaimer that there a no proof here, I’m speculating, of course. And there were never rumors about a s16. But with the way the season went, I can’t help but wonder if someone had already planned for one. And when j2m said no, we’re gonna hang it up, it fucked a lot of peoples plans of this show being their cash cow. Now, it’s completely possible that the writers are just bad as this show has given us some doozies before. maybe they recycled plot had they been planning for a s16 but Cas’ declaration scene was the first thing to be written so... I doubt that.

But here’s my thing alright, and if you’re already here with me, guys, stay with me: why would you leave all these open ends knowing there will be no other season, throw away all this character growth you’ve been writing and telling the fans about for 15 years, and do exactly what the fans asked you not to and leave them separated and stuck on blood when for years you’ve been telling us ‘family don’t end in blood’?

It was a fuck you. It was a big fuck you to everyone involved. And I don’t mean just to the fans, which is exactly what it was to all the people that asked for them to end up alive and happy (so most of us). Again, I say, I’m speculating but it sounds to me like producers, show runners, went out of their way to make this season not make any sense. To make it bad (the fight with Dean and Cas having been written more sad than angry, the way we had an entire holiday episode for the first time in a while but without Cas, the way they literally told us the ending in beckys scene and then had the nerve to make fun of the GOT ending, I won’t even mention saileen again, the way they knew it would only reach about 30% as a good ending). It sounds to me like someone was being a petty bitch. And especially towards Jensen and Misha. Going back to look at this season, those two boys were put through the ringer and were put at the forefront of our screens and made to go outside of their character especially in the last few episodes, and yet it was all a plot device for Sam to live on.

Jensen who went tooth and nail for his characters ending and hated it (even the original one because I’m pretty sure it was pitched to him precovid) got a car ride for the send off to his character. Misha who fought for Cas to be queer for years got to die and have 12 years of love be for nothing (as dean dies a week later). These are the two that have been trying to tell the show who their character really is for years. If you go back and watch panels, Jensen has been trying to tell them for years where he thought his character should go and he said multiple times that it got swept under. He said he left the meeting feeling drained and they told him he was too close to the story. Bitch, he’s Dean!

I can only speculate that Jared didn’t have as much back and forth with the writers and show runners, but I don’t actually know. I’ve seen a panel in which he said he’s done that stuff but they’ve literally either not listened or done the opposite so I have a feeling he stopped trying so hard after a while. But I can take a guess, after hearing what Jared said at his panel about the ending being good and right, that they brainwashed him just a little to believe that this is the ending they’d always been fighting for. They say forget AKF, forget pretty much all the growth you’ve had for the past few seasons and he had to go along with it. I can also speculate that with the new show coming out they were like ‘shhh this will be good for your ratings’.

TL; DR: I think the show runners/ producers purposefully set us up with a bad season because the producers/show runners are petty bitches and they broke our boys to do it.

[jupio]

Fic Writer Interview

Tagged by: @kaijuscientists

Name: Escher

Fandoms: Mandalorian, but I’m still sitting on some good superbat wips!

Two-shot: Technically an eye for significance is a two shot? i mostly write one-shots (because I have absolutely no attention span) and its definitely owed a third chapter

Most popular multi-chapter: the ONLY other multichapter i have - Take Your Protein Pills. Some gen sick fic! It was the first fic I liked enough to post but again, i never finished it

Actual worst part of writing: Editing. SO much of my stuff gets stuck in editing hell because i HATE how dry and boring it is to go through. My best stuff is written in a fit of adhd inspiration with minimal proof reading

How you choose your titles: I google “[key detail of fic] poetry”, then go on images and read poems until i find a good quote. For example, an eye for significance is titled from  Euripides Cave by Elizabeth Seydel Morgan

Do you outline: Either i completely outline EVERYTHING down to specific dialogue and actions, or i dont at all. there is absolutely no middle ground

Ideas i probably wont get around to but wouldnt it be nice: many many dincobb AUs, uhh a really long and pretentious dincobb insomnia fic that i can only work on when im having insomnia. self indulgent trans!din fic. bobadin “we both have  complicated relationships w our armour” fic based on this post  

Callouts @ me: things can be written just for yourself, not JUST with the aim of being posted. motivation that isnt comments/validation would be good

Best writing traits: my action scenes are pretty good!! sometimes i really get in the zone and things flow really well

Spicy tangential opinion: really dont think this is a controversial opinion but creators should be able to re-do characters with identities they see in them. like, me writing din as trans, or HCing cara as a lesbian. same goes for examples like nibeuls anakin with race. write the representation you want to see. and dont leave shitty comments (like the ones ive gotten about trans characters) when it really doesnt affect you. 

No pressure tagging: @captainkappa @nicad13 @intricatecakes 

[bansept]

Let’s dance

/NSFW WORK/

While it’s not the absolute worse, nor the absolute best I could come up with, it’s a pretty nice start of the maybe long series of NSFW scrabbles for my dear Ichihime fandom!

To anyone who was a bit thirsty, I give you this fresh refreshment that I hope isn’t that bad!

DANCER ORIHIME X STUDENT ICHIGO

--------------------------------------------------------

Blurry windows and foggy mirror, heavy breaths and skin burning.

The light was shining on them, their sweaty bodies moving in rhythm with the music, the gentle voice of the instructor ordering them around, making each movement matter.

Now, if anyone had told Ichigo he would be taking dancing lessons, staring at his reflection in half anger, half concentration and listening to young teenage girls giggle behind him, he would have slapped them. Not because dancing was shameful, because frankly, it definitely was not. Well, except for some dances, like the macarena or shit like that. No actually, Ichigo would not have believed himself for agreeing to come to dancing lessons to stare at the instructor.

As in, gawk at her.

.

.

.

Ichigo Kurosaki’s week had started as normally as any other week : waking up early, drinking liters of coffee, going to work on some english literature thesis, eating with some friends and coming back home to work until way too late at night, and starting over again.

Yes, he had been told several times by everyone he knew that coffee was bad when it was too much, yes, he had been told to work better on his thesis if he wanted to study and teach Shakespeare. Easier said than done, and that was why his friends had kept rumbling about either taking a break, thank you Chad, or stoping any distractions and really work, fuck you Uryu.

He was sitting across them, stirring his lunch leftovers slowly while the tall half Japanese half Mexican giant was pushing his hair out of his eyes, looking around them as Uryu was probably talking to him. Ichigo tended to not care much.

“So you better get back on track before your old man decides to stop…”

“He’s not lending me money anymore. I work now, you know?”

Uryu threw Ichigo a quite unimpressed look, closing his mouth only to push his glasses up his straight nose. Chad was holding back a tiny smile, but Ichigo of course saw it.

“Giving lessons to kids and working part time in a dojo isn’t really enough to pay for important studies. Or keep you floating like now for the rest of your little life.”

Ichigo gritted his teeth together, a hand digging in his pocket to hold onto his phone, anything hard to stop him from throwing hands with his friend. He really wondered how or why he even talked with the blue-eyed man in front of him.

“Excuse me?” A voice came from the side, clear and ringing in his ear loud enough for Ichigo to turn his head around. Any distraction was good enough to momentarily wipe Uryu from his mind.

Ichigo felt his grip on his phone loosen, just like his jaw.

The angelic voice that had called them was probably the most angelic form of life on Earth, putting to shame anything renowned painters and, god forbid, even Shakespeare, had ever described. With long, fluffy and so exquisitely soft looking auburn hair, bright grey eyes surrounded by a round face, with subtile eyebrows, a cute little nose and, fuck, pillowy lips…

The young and oh so magnificent woman was slightly leaning towards them, an inviting smile on her face while her slender hand was handing over rosy flyers.

“I’m sorry to bother you, gentlemen, but we are offering free dancing lessons to promote the opening of our new dance studio.” A sweet smile and Ichigo felt his eyes widen further. “Would you be interested?”

With the push of his friends, and because he was perfectly unable to say no to such a goddess, Ichigo was the only one to accept, the other two finding some kind of weird excuse. But really, the young man was perfectly fine in agreeing to go alone there.

.

.

.

What a fantastic recruit they had chosen for the job, he marvelled, walking down the sunny streets with his backpack, staring at the flyer that the gorgeous woman had given him. He wondered if she would be here, in this class, jumping around in sportswear and doing whatever dance lessons did. Ichigo snickered when he realized he’d be one of the idiots doing those idiocities too.

After a good 15 minute-walk, the orange-haired man stood right at the front of a brand new building, the white walls making the golden-ish design of the sign shining in the sunlight. Windows with closed curtains made him raise an eyebrow, but he still entered the dimly lit building, the office desk standing elegantly, but alone.

“Hello?” He asked, voice calling out in the empty space.

God, he hoped he had not arrived too late. Or worse, too early. Ichigo hated to appear eager, even if his brain reminded him that, actually, he was.

A few quick steps rushed on the clean floor, the young woman appearing from the corner of a room, head out of a door, that certainly led to the dance floor. Damn, he hated that word, but like the way her face lit up seeing him.

“Oh! You came!”

Now, if his heart had jumped when Ichigo had first seen her, now something else did when she walked up to him in tight clothing, working out clothing, that hugged everything and didn’t leave much to the imagination. The man quickly got his backpack into his hands and placed it in front of his groin. Breathe in, you can do it.

“Well, huh, I told you I would come, right?” He chuckled airily, watching her smile again, her shoulders lifting up in happiness, her breasts bouncing NO DON’T THINK ABOUT IT.

“Thank you for coming, sir. You are right on time for the 3PM lesson. Others should come, but classes are mostly in the morning. Though I could make an exception for you!”

She brought her hands together in a small clap, and Ichigo did blush but desperately hoped it didn’t show.

It did, and the young woman pointed at the door in the back, with written in both English and Japanese “changing room”.

“You can go get changed, here is the key. Please be ready in 10 minutes.” she bowed to him slightly and walked back to the studio, slower than when she came in, and Ichigo felt his eyes trailing after her, impossible to stop himself or walk ahead as long as she was in here.

“I’m fucked.”

.

.

.

Yes, he was.

His young, overactive and definitely way too interested brain had created this mental image of dancing lessons, yoga sessions and massages to be a place of filth, where people turned into beasts and let nature rule them over as one of them was bended over a table while the other pounded in them. Instinctively, the clever and thinking part of said brain had stopped the idea, assuring him they were only fantasies young people in rut had twisted to fit their horny selves.

Unfortunately, part A of the brain had been right, and part B admitted defeat immediately when the session started with stretching methods.

With the instructor showing, naturally.

Going up, down, to one side then the other, running around the room wasn’t that bad. It actually helped get rid of the incoming boner Ichigo felt growing, and he stopped at the end to breathe out, now completely calm.

Apart from the moment she had come up to him to gently help him get the posture right, expertingly taking his hands to place them where needed, showing him how to do the exercise, her butt for him to see, and it was easy to think it was simply a coincidence.

One that brought his hard on back.

Then Orihime Inoue, the instructor, who had given him her name at the very start of the session so they would stop calling each other “Miss” or “Sir” as if they were still in school, came next to him and asked him to do some squats.

“I don’t see how that helps the dancing…” He doubted, looking at her in the eyes, and she chuckled lightly, raising her hand to pick up his arms and place them in the air, in front of him.

“Dancing is beautiful and powerful when you have good leg muscles. And while you do have muscles, if they themselves are not powerful enough, you won’t last very long.” She explained.

He sighed, argument hitting the spot, and did as many squats as her, next to him. If he was going to do some body work, then it would have been better to simply just go to the gym…

“Come on, don’t day dream! Do 50 and then we’ll see how you dance.”

The world stopped, all the clocks ticking in the empty void, head turning to stare at her incredulously, catching her puffing out her cheeks and laughing out loud, holding on to his shoulder to avoid slipping on the ground.

“I’m kidding, Ichigo-san! Don’t worry!” She kept laughing in her hand, and the young man felt several things : first, shame for letting his fear sweat outside of his body. Second, amusement at her dorky laughter.

The third emotion was out before he could control it, pulling her close to him and taking her hand off her face. Orihime looked shocked by his actions, ears and cheeks reddening from the effort as well as embarrassament.

“What…”

“That’s enough exercising for now. Let's get to the real work.”

He looked into her eyes, who had kept on looking up and down his body for the last half hour, her hands who ran up his arms to land on his collarbones, mouth opening slightly to let out nothing but a tiny “yes”.

He had been on fire for multiple reasons in life : because of anger against his father, his friends, sometimes his sisters. Because of grief, when he had to help other family members carry his mother’s coffin. Because of anxiety and weariness, because of exercise.

But this time, when he walked the two of them to a bench by the side of the room, he was burning in need and hunger.

Orihime was also fever like, the nice and calm mask she had slipped on falling away with her tank top, leaving her in just a sports bra while she kissed Ichigo deeply, tongue easily giving up the dominance in favor of the man’s own flexing muscles.

The sound of the music all but disappeared when their bodies collapsed together, hungry kisses and nails like tiger’s claws on each other’s skins.

With a quick breath, Ichigo pulled away from her mouth to kiss her neck, lapping at it gently, her hand going to his hair while he touched the skin of her hips and stomach. Softness and hard muscles seemed hard to combine, yet there she was, smooth smooth skin covering powerful muscles, ones that he would enjoy teasing.

After the kisses, his head got lower and lower, caging her lower stomach, not touching in the slightest her breasts, that would come later.

“Hmf, what are you... “

“Sh, don’t talk too loud, others might hear.”

He grinned from ear to ear, looking up as he licked his lips, her breath catching in her throat. Orihime’s hand suddenly caught his hair and pulled him up, as gently as possible, and they kissed again, one nibbling on the other’s lips, Orihime’s hands getting under the man’s wet shirt, feeling the tight muscles, the crease between each abs, the v line digging in his shorts.

“No one else is here… So, don’t hesitate to yelp, Ichigo.”

She murmured agaisn’t her lips before going deeper in her search, this time digging in his shorts to find what she seeked with a grin.

Ichigo yelped indeed, not expecting the woman under him to get so bold, yet there she was, feeling him up and stroking him in his damn shorts.

Fuck, would be the right word to use.

He didn’t utter a single vowel, bringing her pants and her underwear down rapidly, going back to kiss her as their lips found each other again, lost in moans and the electric touches of their tongues. Orihime kept on stroking him, gently pumping him up and down, the member in her hand turning even harder as she placed her thumb on the slit. Slick came out of it, and she chuckled at the man’s reaction : eyes closed and shaking behind the eyelids, Ichigo seemed ready to burst at any moment, but he groaned, not accepting an early end.

His finger, that had been on her lower stomach, stroking at her sensitive part, now had entered her, one by one. The long digits didn’t waste any time in looking for her gspot, that tender place inside of her that would make her see stars in seconds, if he was careful enough.

“Ichigo… No, not like, th-that…” She moaned against him, her free hand digging in his hair, pulling her face in his neck to try to resist the impossible pull on her body. “I… need….”

“I know, baby, I know… Let me take care of it…” He whispered back to her, placing one kiss on her forehead. His fingers came out of her, taking her own hand off of him, even if he twitched in insubordination. “You’re all good, Hime, you’re good…”

He reassured her, voice gentle like he knew she liked, hands lowering his pants to angle his cock to her. Ichigo finally freed her breasts from their confined space, letting them overflow on her chest, filling his vision with sights of her blushing face and exposed tits.

“You’re beautiful Hime…”

He smiled at her, rubbing her nose with his with a grin that she gave back, before entering her fully, nice and slow. She yelped this time, voice resonating in the empty room, but never stopping her sweet sound and words towards him as she dug her fingernails in his back, feeling him getting as deep as possible, filling her up to the brim, the end, to the heart.

She pushed her head out of his neck, and with a tiny frown, pouted.

“You didn't play.”

Ichigo winced, the tightness of hers squeezing just right around him, and nodded his head.

“I’m sorry… I tried, but you always look so fucking amazing in sports wear… fuck, I couldn’t just pretend I didn’t know my own fiancée!”

Orihime didn’t answer, couldn’t really, and pulled him back down against her generous mounds before he got started with his thrusts, rocking them carefully against the oh so fragile wooden bench of his future wife’s dance studio.

------------------------------------------------------------

I’ll never forgive my playlist for making me turn what was supposed to be absolute filth into sweet love making on a bench.

Tell me what you thought of it, and how I can better myself!

[iam93percentstardust]

I'm bombarding you with those prompts, so I fully understand if you just ignore all those you don't like, lol. Would WinterIronFalcon be an OT3 you're intrested in writing? Some established WinterFalcon with Tony pining helplessly after them, not believeing he could have a chance? With a dash of angst in it? Thank you ♡

There isn’t much angst in this but there is hopeless pining so yay?

Also on ao3 here

~

“Share Bear, it’s not fair,” Tony whines into the phone.

“What isn’t?” his cousin asks, sounding patient but also kind of amused. He takes the phone away from his ear and squints at it. Is she making fun of him? She probably is, Sharon always makes fun of him. She’s mean like that; he’s pretty sure she gets it from Natasha.

“They’re so fucking gorgeous, I can’t stand it.”

“Oh. Them again. Seriously Tony, didn’t you used to have better taste?”

“Excuse you,” he says, offended. “My taste is perfect.”

“They think arguing is foreplay.”

“It’s bickering! And it’s cute!”

“Gross,” Sharon says cheerfully.

“God hates me,” Tony says dramatically, flinging his hand over his eyes. “That’s why he cursed me to work with two such beautiful humans who are already dating each other.”

“Tony—”

“I know Bucky stays up to date with the fandom,” he continues, going a little quieter. “He’s gotta know that tons of people ship the three of us. But he doesn’t say anything about it. Share Bear, why doesn’t he say anything?”

“Probably because for every person who ships all three of you, there’s twice as many who ship just you and him,” she admits. “I know that if someone were shipping Maria and Nat and ignoring that I even exist, I’d be pretty upset.”

“Yeah,” he says glumly.

“What’re you filming today anyway?” she asks.

“True Crime. We were supposed to be doing an episode of Supernatural at the Odinson Mystery House, you know, over in Norway where the son found out he was adopted and then got super into Norse mythology and supposedly disappeared into a rainbow?”

“Oh yeah, that guy was crazy.”

“Wasn’t,” Tony insist stubbornly. “There are three different eyewitnesses and they all saw the same thing.”

“All three eyewitnesses tested positive for meth.”

“It was trace amounts and ruled irrelevant to the case. Anyway, there’s some sort of blizzard so our flight got canceled. We figured we’d get a jump on this season’s True Crime episodes instead.”

“What are you doing this week?”

He scowls into the phone. “Fandom episode. They voted for Captain America.”

He can practically hear Sharon wince. “I’m sorry. That fucking sucks.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, not least because both of them know exactly what happened to Captain America. He was recovered from the Arctic back in the 50s and went on to live a very happy and fulfilling life with Aunt Peggy. But that’s a very closely guarded state secret; the U.S. government can’t let it get out that Steve Rogers survived nearly a decade in the ice. Technically, Tony and Sharon aren’t even supposed to know but Aunt Peggy had insisted she be allowed to tell them after she took custody of Sharon and Tony moved out of Howard’s and into her home. It’s kind of cool actually, knowing that Uncle Steve is really Captain America. He’s a pretty great guy. It just kind of sucks that he can’t tell anyone about it and now he has to do a whole episode about it when everyone knows he’s a shitty liar.

He’d talked it over with Uncle Steve and Aunt Peggy when the results of the vote had first come in. Aunt Peggy’s advice had been to act more manic than usual, throw even more outlandish theories into the mix, and really make this episode about the banter between him and Bucky. “Direct their attention away from Steve,” she’d said. “They’re already going to be looking at you. Just make sure they’re doing it for the wrong reason.”

He kind of wants to kiss Bucky. That would definitely draw attention away from the episode. But that’s not fair to either Bucky or Sam, who are very happy with their relationship and don’t need a homewrecker like Tony throwing a spanner into the mix.

“Good luck,” Sharon tells him before they hang up. “You’re gonna need it.”

“Wow, thanks,” he mutters but she’s already gone.

~

Marvels Unsolved was never supposed to be this popular. It started off as a novelty webseries about Tony trying to convince Bucky about the existence of the supernatural—he firmly believed that if science could turn Uncle Steve from an actual shrimp to the god of muscles, then magic had to be out there—and then they’d started talking about an unsolved crime from the early 20th century after filming an episode one day, forgetting that the camera was still rolling, and had ended up with enough footage to make a second episode about real crimes. They had stayed pretty unknown throughout that first season but then true crime podcasts had exploded in popularity and Unsolved along with them.

Now they have a fandom and merchandise and actual fanfiction written about them, which is the craziest thing. They both have several often-quoted gifs floating around the Internet and Bucky has somehow become the poster child for being unimpressed by literally everything (he actually makes some of the best faces when something genuinely scary happens but they always end up editing those parts out—he has an image to maintain after all).

They brought Sam on once they started gaining in popularity. Tony, by that point, already had a pretty well-established crush on Bucky. He’d even thought that he had a chance with his co-host, small as it may be, and at first, it hadn’t seemed like Sam was going to change anything. He and Bucky argued all the time so Tony had been absolutely stunned when he’d stumbled upon them making out like it was the end of the world.

They had just finished filming their second season. Sam had suggested going out to a local bar. He’d suggested it for all three of them but Tony had, inexplicably, felt like a third wheel all night as Sam and Bucky bickered. At one point, Sam had disappeared off to the restroom and a couple minutes later, Bucky had followed him. Tony doesn’t know how long he had sat there waiting for them but he’d eventually gone looking for them only to find Sam pressing Bucky up against a wall.

And that had been that.

Three years later, Sam and Bucky are still going strong, Tony is as smitten with Sam as he is with Bucky despite knowing how hopeless both crushes are, and the fandom seems convinced to either write Sam out of Tony and Bucky’s relationship or write Tony into Sam and Bucky’s. He wishes they would stop. He stays pretty up to date with the fandom as well and they have all these meta posts about the way Bucky looks at him or something. It just keeps giving him hope but, well, it’s been three years. If Bucky wanted him, or if Sam did for that matter, they would have done something long ago.

~

“Hey, you doing okay?” Sam asks him as they’re setting up.

“Sure, why wouldn’t I be?” He avoids meeting Sam’s eyes, focusing instead on adding creamer to the coffee. Marvels had presented them with these mugs last year to congratulate them on four years of Unsolved. They’ve got their most iconic quotes printed on them, Bucky’s with “Obviously I killed JFK” and Tony’s with “I’m the dramatic bitch your mom warned you about.” Sam has one too with his one and only line in the entire show printed on it (“Why did I agree to work with you?”) but since he’s always behind the camera, he doesn’t have to use the same mug for each episode.

“You just seem a little off.” The worst part is that Sam genuinely looks concerned. If they didn’t care about him, he thinks his crush might be easier to manage but they do because they’re just nice guys like that. “I know you weren’t too thrilled when we announced this week’s case.”

“Howard worked with him, practically hero-worshipped the damn guy. Of course, I’m not excited.”

Sam winces. They know all about Tony’s shitty relationship with Howard after his dad called Marvels furious that his son was hosting a webseries instead of coming home to grovel at his feet and take over the business. The whole team had been brought in to listen as Fury tried to placate him. By the end, Bucky had been furious on Tony’s behalf and Sam had berated Fury for twenty minutes for making Tony listen to the vitriol his dad had spewed. It had cemented his crush on Sam, then just a passing fancy, into something real and permanent.

“Seriously, Sam, I’m fine. Might be a little off today but I would have said if I didn’t think I could do it.”

Sam doesn’t look convinced but he agrees anyway. Tony sits down next to Bucky and passes him his mug. Bucky shoots him a grin and murmurs, “Thanks, doll.”

Tony doesn’t blush but that’s only because he has five years of practice. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots Sam counting them down and he turns to face the camera, settling his hands in front of him.

“This week on Marvels Unsolved True Crime and in celebration of our 100th episode,” he begins, “we asked you what you’d like us to investigate and you came back—”

“—overwhelmingly,” Bucky interjects.

“Many, many times,” Tony agrees, “with a topic near and dear to my own heart: Captain America.”

“That’s right,” Bucky says, sounding surprised though Bucky had been the first to point out that maybe they shouldn’t do this episode because of Tony’s connections to Project Rebirth. “Your dad helped turn Steve Rogers into Captain America, didn’t he?”

“And he never let me forget it!” Tony says cheerfully.

“One hundred episodes,” Bucky says slowly, enunciating each word. “Can you believe that, doll?”

Sometimes, he wonders why the fans ship them when Sam is right there. Other times, Bucky says things like this and he understands completely.

“Not even a little bit, Bucky Babe.” Okay, so maybe he doesn’t help.

“One hundred. The big one zero zero.”

“We tried to do something extra special and get Sam in front of the camera for you guys—”

“—so you could see what a hunk he is—”

“—but Sam said that he didn’t trust anyone else to film us properly—”

“—which makes sense because Tony? If you put him in the wrong light, he’s practically a gremlin—”

“Hey!”

“I’m just telling the facts.”

“Well, the facts are wrong.”

“They’re facts, sweet thing, they can’t be wrong.”

“Can too. Anyway, since Sam refuses to join us—”

“—and that just breaks my heart because Sam, he’s one of my favorite guys, you know?”

Tony pauses. It’s not like Bucky to say anything nice about Sam. Usually, it’s all good-natured insults and bickering. He must really be fed up with the Starkbucks shippers to say something like this when they’re still this early in the show.

“Only one of?” he asks curiously.

Bucky shoots him one of those filthy grins that their audience loves so much. “Well, it’s hard not to include you on that list,” he drawls.

He’s not going to blush.

He’s not going to blush.

He’s not going to—

Damn it.

Whatever. It’s no big deal, that’s what editing is for. So what if Sam has never edited out one of Tony’s blushes yet? Maybe Tony will get lucky and he will this time.

“You know, I was actually named for Captain America’s sidekick?” Bucky asks, getting them back on track.

“Wow, that is deeply unfortunate,” Tony deadpans.

“Yeah, Dad’s a fanboy. His whole troop was pinned down and rescued by the two of them. He tells the story all the time—kind of like your dad.”

“Except my dad goes straight past into fanboy and directly into obsession territory.”

“…Fair enough.”

“Really? That’s all you’re going to say?”

Bucky shrugs and takes a sip out of his mug. “I’ve been inside your house. I’ve seen the Steve Rogers shrine. I’m not going to argue with you.”

Tony thinks about that for a moment. “It is kind of a shrine, isn’t it? Anyway, we’ve got some great stuff for you today. We’re going to crack open this cold case, show you some never-before-seen footage courtesy of my mom sneaking my dad’s old war tapes out of the mansion, and then we’ll talk a little bit about the theories out there.”

“How many of them are going to be ridiculously outlandish and physically impossible?”

Tony glares at him. “None of them. I have never once presented a ridiculously outlandish and physically impossible theory.”

“Right because alien abduction is a valid—”

“Aliens are real!”

“You said that crabs might have eaten Amelia Earheart!” Bucky shouts over him.

“It’s a valid theory!”

“I take it back, you’re not one of my favorite people anymore.”

“That really hurts me, deep inside,” Tony says sarcastically, trying to cover up that maybe that does send a small pang shooting through his chest. He likes the thought of being one of Bucky’s favorite people. He doesn’t want to lose that.

“How deep?” Bucky asks and winks.

“Very deep. Way, way deep down. Practically in my—”

Bucky’s eyes widen and he nearly chokes on his coffee. “Okay, that’s enough of that. Let’s get into the facts.”

“Hey, that’s my line!”

~

“With a missing plane and pilot and so much redaction in the files, we’re lucky to even have a name, let’s get into the theories.”

“Actually, wait, before we do that,” Bucky says, “I want to ask if you’ve ever noticed that your voice changes when you’re doing the voiceovers.”

“Wait, what?” Tony asks. He glances at him, to one of the cameras, then back to Bucky. “What do you mean?”

“You know, it gets all deeper like you’re trying to voice movie trailers or something.”

“No it doesn’t.”

“Sure it does.”

Tony shakes his head. “There’s no way.”

They both turn toward Sam, who thinks about it and then makes a ‘sort of’ motion with his hand.

“Told you!” Bucky says triumphantly.

“You’re such a child,” Tony sneers.

“Yeah, that’s why you like working with me so much.”

Behind the camera, Sam silently snickers and Tony glares at him before telling the camera, “If you’re watching, let us know in the comments. Is my apparent movie trailer voice okay or does it need to go like Bucky clearly thinks?”

Bucky goes paler. “Hey, wait, I didn’t say it had to go.”

“It was implied when you brought it up,” he argues.

“No!” Bucky insists. “I was just wondering if it was on purpose.”

They both turn toward Sam, who thinks about it and then makes a ‘sort of’ motion with his hand.

“Aha!” Tony says triumphantly.

“Traitor,” Bucky mutters into his coffee.

Sam signs, “I’ll make it up to you when we get home tonight.”

“And that was more than I ever wanted to learn about Sam and Bucky’s love life,” Tony lies through his teeth. “Let’s get into the theories. I only have two for you today, one of which I think Bucky will particularly like.”

“Oh no.”

“Our first theory is that Steve Rogers died in a plane crash on December 16, 1944. Winter months in the Arctic are known to be particularly stormy. There would have been low visibility due to the high latitude and time of year and with the waters and surrounding land being well below freezing, it’s possible that, even if Captain Rogers survived the impact, he would have frozen to death in the stormy seas.”

Bucky thinks about it for a second. “Yeah, that seems plausible.”

“In addition, Howard Stark, a known Captain America aficionado and the father of Marvels Unsolved’s best host—”

“You lie like a rug!” Bucky howls.

Tony snickers and then when Sam signs, “He’s really not,” bursts out into full-out laughter.

Once he’s recovered, he continues, “Howard Stark has spent the first fifty years after the crash of the Valkyrie and the last twenty funding searches in the Arctic in the hopes of recovering Captain Rogers’ body. He has found no evidence that Captain Rogers survived the crash although he did find part of the remains of the Valkyrie and has since stated that, ‘No human could have survived that crash.’”

The expeditions are a scam and have been since Howard first found the Valkyrie crash site and Uncle Steve along with it. He hadn’t been planning on continuing the expeditions—too costly, as he claims—but when Aunt Peggy had told him that Uncle Steve’s survival had to remain a secret, he’d kept them up for pretense’s sake.

Bucky is saying something about how it sucks that the first superhero is gone and when he finishes, Tony grins and says, “Then you’ll like our second theory.”

“Somehow, every time you say that, I end up completely hating it. Wonder why that is.”

“Our second theory is that Steve Rogers survived the crash and is still alive but cryogenically frozen in the ice. There—”

“Bullshit!”

Tony starts laughing but he tries to continue on over Bucky shouting that it’s complete nonsense. It’s hard and he knows that Sam will probably have to do some editing and maybe make Tony do some voiceover work in order to make the theory audible but he thinks he manages to do a pretty good job.

Bucky is pouting by the end of it, arms crossed over his chest. “What fucking bullshit,” he mutters.

“The supersoldier serum—” Tony starts to point out.

“Isn’t a miracle drug.”

“That’s exactly what it is.”

“No, it just made him big and strong. It doesn’t just magically keep people alive when they should have died.”

And then they’re off into familiar territory, arguing about the merits of either theory. Tony’s actually feeling pretty good about himself, convinced that he’s doing a decent job of steering the conversation away of anything classified, right up until Bucky says, about halfway through the episode, “I’m surprised at you, Tony.”

He wrinkles his nose. “Surprised?”

“Usually, you have some absolutely batshit, off-the-walls crazy theory but these have actually been pretty normal for you.” He pauses and then adds for effect, “And you’re usually much better at your research than this.”

“Excuse me?”

“Oh come on, even I know that there’s one more theory.”

He starts tapping at his chest nervously, almost wishing that he had a pair of sunglasses. Aunt Peggy always said that his lies are in his eyes, that they’re too expressive to hide the truth. When he was living with Howard, in the spotlight, he always had a pair of sunglasses to hide his eyes but he hasn’t wanted to use those since he moved out. He wishes he had them now.

“And what’s that?” he asks, feigning a casualness he doesn’t feel.

“That Steve Rogers lived and came out of the ice at some point and has been living out his life in anonymity.”

He barks out a nervous laugh. “I didn’t mention it because even I know that that theory is completely impossible.”

“Hasn’t stopped you before.” Sam nods agreeably. Bucky nods back at him and adds, “Even Sam agrees with me.”

“He’s your boyfriend, he’s practically required to.”

Both Sam and Bucky laugh at that one and yeah, okay, it was a pretty ridiculous statement. Anyone who knows them knows that being boyfriends is less likely to make them agree with each other.

“Look, Steve Rogers didn’t come out of the ice alive. Howard would have known for one thing and if you think, he could keep something like that quiet, then you don’t know him very well.”

“Maybe the government insisted it be a secret,” Bucky suggests, shrugging. “There have been plenty of people who have claimed over the last couple decades to be Captain America.”

Tony scoffs. “Oh come on, by that logic, anyone could be Captain America.”

“Maybe they could be.”

“No,” Tony says flatly. “It’s like that crazy conspiracy theory guy over on Reddit who’s convinced that Bruce Wayne is Batman.”

“Maybe Bruce Wayne is Batman.”

“Ooh do the butts match?” Tony says mockingly. “I mean, really, Bucky Babe, if we’re going off of lookalikes, then my fucking Uncle Steve is secretly really Steve Rogers, which is ridiculous because the guy’s like practically ancient and faints at the sight of blood in PG-13 movies.”

That sets off another round of arguing that lasts the rest of the episode until finally Tony wraps it up with, “Whether Steve Rogers died in 1944 or is still alive today is a mystery that will remain unsolved.”

They both pause for a moment to provide time for Sam to edit in the theme music and closing title. Usually, there would be some lighthearted bantering afterwards, maybe a joke about something they said earlier in the show. This time though, Bucky says thoughtfully, “The thing is, though, I’ve met your Uncle Steve—”

Tony goes cold.

“—and he really does kind of look like—”

Tony panics. That’s the only explanation that he has for declaring, “I’m done waiting,” reaching across the tables and grabbing hold of Bucky’s shirt, and yanking him forward to kiss him.

For a moment, Bucky is too startled to do anything but then he melts into Tony, mouth opening under his, tongue pushing forward to meet his. Bucky’s arms come around him, pulling him up and out of his chair and settling him into his lap. Tony makes a small greedy sound, swallowed by Bucky’s kiss, and then they’re both pulling away. Bucky’s lips are very red; Tony can’t stop staring at them even as he’s filled with dismay.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I shouldn’t have—”

“Why not?” Bucky demands.

“You—Sam—” He glances toward the camera but Sam isn’t standing there anymore. His heart drops into his stomach—has he just ruined Bucky and Sam’s relationship? But then he hears someone drop to their knees behind him and when he turns slightly, Sam’s fingers are on his chin, gently turning his head.

“How long?” Sam asks.

“How long what?”

“How long have we been wasting our time when we could have been kissing you instead?”

Three years, two months, and fifteen days. “Too long.”

Sam kisses him then, mouth gentler than Bucky’s but no less consuming. Bucky is a hard, hot line against his front; Sam is warm against his back and Tony? Tony loses himself in the storm that is the two of them, sparks shooting through him as Bucky’s hands find their way to his hips, as Sam’s tongue slips into his mouth, as Bucky whispers into his ear, “We’re not wasting any more time.”

~

Marvels Unsolved’s 100th episode shoots to their most watched, most liked video in less than a day and when asked, maybe the smallest handful of viewers could have said what it was about.

The day after it posts, only a week after it was filmed, Tony’s phone rings.

“Kill it with fire,” Sam says sleepily.

Tony, however, recognizes Aunt Peggy’s ringtone and he rolls over to grab it before Bucky can throw it at the wall. “Hello?” he asks groggily.

“Congratulations on not blowing Steve’s cover,” she says.

“Oh yeah,” Tony mutters. “Can I go back to bed now?”

“One more thing, duck.”

“What’s that?”

“Congratulations on the new boyfriends.”

[thirstythylacine]

Stress Relief

Alright. This damn band and fandom has got the best of me finally.

Haven't written in over 10 years. Definitely never written smut before.

I've given in! There are pages and pages of smut notes in my journals, phone, and computer so I guess this is my new hobby in quarantine.

Relatively unedited so apologies there. 

Yell at me here, or yell at me on AO3 under the same name. 

Also I have a very limited knowledge of how the hell this cursed site works despite being on it for most of its existence. So if there's shit I didn't tag correct here let me know.

Also Tumblr apparently hates making the italicized bits appear here so I’ll reblog this in a sec with the AO3 link if you, like me, really like seeing the emphasis :)

I am otherwise too lazy currently to figure it out or fix it and I’m already reposting this since Tumblr also apparently hates outside links! Thanks Hell Site. 

STRESS RELIEF

He’s been working on this project for a week straight and as usual it’s cutting into personal hours. Though that doesn’t faze him, scribbling notes in the margin of this current translation and completely forgetting to call for dinner. It’s 10:30 at night and I’ve brought him ever meal today as well as coffee multiple times. At this point it’s half just so I can make sure he’s still awake and breathing.

His dinner looks untouched and he’s got ink on his cheek. I don’t even think he noticed me come in until I was right behind his chair with my hands on his shoulders. He only startles a bit and I lean forward to peek at his progress. “You’ve gotten far today” I note, “Though dinner was over two hours ago you know.”

He sighs sitting back against me. “I know Tesoro, I know. This one is just.....very difficult. And she wants it earlier than the rest.” He drops the pen and stretches his fingers. “If I can get this one to her before Friday I think we can have a few days off finally.”

It would be a relief for us both to have a few days off. He squirms as I press at the knots in his shoulder.

"I will literally stand guard outside this office to fend people off if it will help. I was starting to think I might have to tie you up somewhere to keep you from coming into the office this weekend.” He breathes in sharply once and there's a moment of stillness before he’s laughing quietly. Interesting.

I’m solidly around the front side of his desk before I notice the flush on his face. Double interesting.

The last paper in front of him has been moved aside in favor of the dinner plate. He’s frowning at it. The dish isn’t one that would be particularly appetizing cold. “I think......perhaps a trip to the kitchen might serve us better?” I offer. “You can find something better than that and I can find something for desert. I think Papa mentioned there was pie tonight.”

Pie makes a good dinner.” He says with a quirk of the eyebrow. Problem solved.

———

“Hey!” I gasp as his teeth scrape down my neck. “Hey, I told you, none of that tonight. I have a ton of important meetings tomorrow. You know, the kind with people from Outside This Church whom I need to view me as respectable, buddy.” He isn't looking at me but growls a little against my skin.

I tangle my hands in his hair and tug sharply back to meet his wild eyes with mine. “No biting.” “You’re gonna have to save those hickeys for tomorrow, Cardinal...”

He’s adorably huffy about it but also doesn’t falter as he ruts against me. His hips grind sharply into my thighs, pressing me hard down into the cushions of his couch. His arms have me caged in below him and he rests his forehead against mine with a low moan.

At some point we’ll have to decide if we’re moving to a bed, or at least stopping long enough to take off literally any clothing instead of writhing on the furniture like teenagers. It’s so good this way though.

I came by to drop off the last few papers for him to finish and somehow convinced him they could be done in the morning. I meant to also convince him to come have another late dinner in the kitchens but he's in a mood and I can't complain. Having him over me, desperate and needy is better than any drug. I busy myself with the buttons on his jacket and shirt, impatient to get my hands into his chest hair. He hums as I run my fingers through it, and lower. His mouth is at my ear, his nose in my hair. I tug at his belt as he arches over me.

“We should go go to bed” he whispers “we should go to bed so I can fuck you into the weekend. I want to wrap you around me and make you cum until you can’t remember your name”. The words coming out of his mouth are getting deep and breathy. That voice.

Even his perfectly normal, reasonable Latin lectures make me want to get on my knees for him. I'm pretty certain the whole class feels that way. Technically, I know I’m not the only one he sleeps with either but recently I seem to have lucked out.

“You can’t” I growl back as he presses me down. “As much as I’d love to have you buried in me from now until Sunday, you still have 'homework' for tomorrow and I.... I can’t bag out of my important meetings. Sister will literally have me murdered if I leave her alone with those delegates.”

He moans low and deep grabbing at my thigh to pull me further under him, tighter against him. We press back and forth rocking against each other and making out. He’s driving against me over and over in a way that will have me undone very shortly. I have to bury my face in his shoulder to keep my whimpers quiet. Office hours are over but the door isn’t locked and Ghouls have a way of showing up when shit is about to get good.

I'm starting to lose it. “Please, Copia, please, pleaseplease” I beg. He grinds into me slower and slower pressing closer and longer and I think I could die from needing to cum. His breath is in my ear choppy and hot. Little wines, murmurs spilling from his mouth as he gets closer to the edge.

My body arcs up against him, my hands trapped against his chest as an orgasm washes over me. Head thrown back into the cushion I cry out when he sucks at the skin at my collar. I’m gasping as I come down. And then I realize.

Yanking my hands from between us to grab at his head. “COPIA, Satanus! What the fuck did I just say!” He’s a bit of a mess this close to an orgasm and only whines at me when I scold him. His rhythm is getting lost now and though I'm mildly pissed about the bite, I don’t think there’s a better time to test my new interesting theory than now.

I wind the fingers of my left hand tight into his hair and grab harshly at his hips with my right. “Bite me again and see what happens Cardinal. Don’t make me tie you down next time.”

He comes hard. Face buried in my collarbone despite my hard grip on his hair. He’s arched so hard into me I think I’ll be feeling it well into next week. We collapse slowly into the couch. It’s hot and sweaty not to mention the utter mess he's just made. Whatever. He must own 20 pairs of those black pants anyways.

I stroke his hair and laugh softly into it as he tries to regain some steadiness of breath. “Well then, Cardinal.” I arch my eyebrow at him and he's absolutely blushing. He won't quite make eye contact and I can't keep this crooked smirk off my face. He buries his face back against me and grumbles “Maybe time for a real dinner, Tesoro?” as the office door opens. A silver face peeks through, checking the desk and then turning to see us tangled on the couch. “Oh! Sorry, boss. Just, uh, making sure the, uh, lights were off in here. Yeah.” “But um, never mind if you’re still in here working!” The voice fades as the face retreats quickly.

Copia makes a tired sound. “Ghouls.”

———

The free weekend has been axed.

Delegates from the Unitarian Church apparently liked our pitch enough that they decided to hang around for a few days and view the abbey in it’s working state. On the one hand it’s great. Not completely bonkers church allies would be incredibly helpful to us. But I'm mentally tapped out from the socializing. Copia too, has been dragged into the fray. Unlike our Third Papa he can be counted on to treat our guest well without shamelessly flirting with each and every one of them. Unitarian Universalists might not immediately kick a bunch of Satanists out of church club but they still probably view married couples as a little less fair game than Terzo does.

They leave just in time for us to jump right in on the next round of translations. Some books from our archives can only be opened for a few nights a year or a decade. Some can only be opened for a few hours at a time, or only in the perfect humidity, or only by a woman, or a ghoul, or Papa. It’s a particular kind of puzzle game to schedule the translations of these texts. Plus very few people can translate them at all let alone as quickly as the Cardinal.

Imperator schedules, I ferry book and papers. He translates. I return books and papers and organize translations by type and date so we can digitize them later. It’s part of the push to get this church into a modern century. Making an effort to have other church allies is as well. Nihil is totally against it even though his sons are all for it. Or maybe that’s because his sons are all for it.

Everyone is tired. Everyone is busy. The congregation is much bigger than it used to be but still there isn't a lot of down time. We've got a horde of siblings at our disposal to help with all the cleaning, data entry, filing, etc. but someone still needs to steer the ship.

It turns out that managing people is a pain in the ass and regretfully I'm good at it.

Thankfully I still end up spending most of my day filing and organizing piles. It's boring but methodical and leaves me with enough brain space to let my mind rest or wander as it chooses.

I'm deep into sorting notes from the early 30's so we can see if anything matches up with books from that era but my mind has wandered back to the Cardinal's ass in his red pants.

He stepped away from the monstrous paper pile for coffee this morning but two moments later was back leaning across the front of his desk to scribble a note in the margins of whatever he's trying to decipher. It's a very nice ass.

It's been over a week since we've been able to do anything more than snag a kiss between meals, sleep, and work. It's fine, except that it really, really isn't. Stress relief is important. And doing it myself is currently feeling a little subpar when the alternative is so incredibly attractive.

Also. There's this whole other aspect of him that I really want to get another glimpse of. We have been mostly on equal footing or he's been in charge since we've been seeing each other, but I know that's not all there is. Not just because of the way he blushes when I boss him around but also because of that dinner months ago where a wine drunk Terzo whispered in my ear all sorts of things about how delightful and versatile a bed partner Copia is.

I think I want to know all the ways to make him whimper and beg.

Unbeknownst to him, Thursday night we're going to catch a break. Imperator is headed out of town with a few of the Emeritus family for some swearing in of a little sect or two a few cities over. Copia and I have been excused to finish up one really time sensitive book and they're going to be gone for two whole days.

Of course, I know that the book is finished already. He did the last bit around 2am and I just couldn't bring myself tell her in case she decided to dump another stack on us as she walked out the door. Two days isn't enough for a real vacation but it's definitely enough for a little rest and stress relief.

______

I feel like I'm laying a trap. Getting us out of work, convincing him to come back to his rooms to change for dinner.

There's a tiny unmarked bottle of lube tucked on the hallway table next to the Baphomet statue where he hangs his keys. Normally he never looks at that table, just drops his keys across it, puts his hat on Baphomet's head, and comes to collapse on the couch or bed.

There he is though, looking at the bottle curiously, fingers starting to unbutton the top of his jacket unconsciously as his brow creases. I have to move fast. I walk up and my hands take over for his. Unbuttoning the jacket and pushing it back over his shoulders but not taking it off of him. I push at his chest gently until he steps back all the way against the heavy wood door.

"Tesoro, I... " He looks down at my face as I'm unbuttoning his shirt. My hands work downwards and I see as he completely forgets about the bottle. "Hello there" he says with a smile and slides his hands into my hair to turn my face up towards him. I get an arched eyebrow, a little half smile, and then, a little hitched breath as I tug open his belt.

I lean in to rub my nose under his jaw and breathe him in. His arms come up to pull me close and I can feel the rumble in his chest. We stand for a moment in peace, enjoying the closeness before I tug his hands down to lay flat against the door. "Keep them there, alright?" I whisper in his ear.

He breathes out an unsteady yes while I lay kisses down his neck. His trousers are undone and he hums through his teeth as I take him out and stroke him. Lightly over and over. Teasing gently. His head is back with eyes closed which is perfect.

When I ease my lube slick hand down his dick his whole body jolts and his eyes fly open to stare at me. "Oh! Ohhh...." Hands tight against the door his hips push forward into my hand and he screws his eyes closed again as I stroke him a second time.

"F...uck. Oh. Fuck. Tesoro..." he whimpers and the sound strikes deeply hot at the center of me.

I keep my touch firm but slow. A steady torcherous pace. I wonder how long I can keep him here. Trapped between my body and the door, gasping and moaning as I tease him higher and higher.

I want to talk to him but I'm a little afraid this will end too soon if I do so I settle for brushing my lips across his, across his face, against his sideburns until he's begging. "Tesoro, pleeease. PPlease. Ah. Ah. Oh, lord, Tesoro. I need....ah, please."

His face is plastered to my neck and I dig my free hand into his hair to hold him there. He hasn't moved his hands an inch though I see them tremble and grasp.

"You're doing so well, yeah?" I whisper. "You sounds so good like this. I love it. I love hearing how badly you need this." I can feel his knees knock a little as I speak to him. "I've been thinking about this for weeks. Making you come undone for me like this. Did you think I hadn't noticed how pink you get when I tell you what to do?"

"Ah, Satanus. Por favor...." he wines. "por favor....." His hips are trying to press forward, but I've got him tight against the door. I up the pace of my strokes until he can hardly speak. Low gasps and whimpers escape him as I bring him higher.

"Are you close love? I need you to tell me when you're close. I want you to tell me when you’re going to cum." That pulls a little wail from him and he gasps, crushing his face deeper into my neck. "Oh, Santanus. Oh, Lucifer. "

"You gonna beg me, sweetheart?" I husk in his ear. "Come on. Say please?"

He doesn't manage it, curling tight over my body as he comes. His arms forget the door to crush me against him. Fingers grip my back and shoulder so hard it almost hurts and I can hear his breath stop completely for a moment. I let him hold me, pressing myself tight up against him, toes to head.

It hardly feels like he is going to stand on his own so I just clean him up with a conveniently located cloth and pepper his face with little kisses. I brush the damp hairs back from his brow and when he lifts his eyes to mine he still flushes a even brighter red.

I must look entirely too pleased with myself because he quickly closes them again and lets his head fall back against the door with a solid "thunk."

"Fuck", he breathes, "I...ah, just.....Fuck."

I am pleased with myself. Humming softly I tuck him back into his trousers and pull the edges of his collar down so I can kiss him long and hard before patting his chest and moving away back into his rooms. He doesn't follow me and I look back to see him still leaning against the door staring.

"Dinner?" I ask with a bright innocent smile.

He growls with narrowed eyes and launches himself into the room. Shrieking with laughter I race to the other side of his couch. "Come here..." he murmurs. And when I don't move he crooks a finger at me. "Topolino. Come on. Come. Here. "

It's so goddamn hot. I want to.

But.

"Make me." It's impossible to keep a grin off my face knowing that the whole wing of this abbey is definitely going to hear about when he catches me. I have the advantage of steady feet, but his eyes are dark and his smile dangerous.

I am super, super fucked.

[licenselesswriter]

1, 2, 3, 4, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 13, 14, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 41, 44. And if I could send more, I would.

Inspiration and Reading Asks:

1. How long ago did you start reading fanfiction? Writing fanfiction? Started reading when I was 12, started writing it, when I was 14, so reading, 19 years ago, and writing 17 years ago.

2. How do you spend your time when it comes to fanfiction? Are you primarily a fic reader, writer, or a perfect 50/50 split of both? I’m a 33.3% reader, 33.3% WIP machine, a 33.4% writer, and 100% mess, I usually spend my time doing an absurd amount of WIP that comes out of thin air, like, I can be eating an apple, boom, Bori WIP, a cup of coffee? Boom, Roro WIP, breathing? Boom, Lucaya WIP (that last one happens the most)

3. Are there any fics that inspired you to write what you do? It’s called Unfaithful (EN), it’s on fanfiction.net, and honestly, it’s so well written, that I had nausea 3 times while reading it, the pain was so palpable that I felt ill from it.

4. Link your three favorite fics right now. Right now, and in order 1 - Unfaithful (EN)  2 - Twenty Nights  3 - Perfect 

6. How do you find a new fic to read? Where do you primarily read fanfiction? Fanfiction or AO3, and have an excel doc with my favorite ships, then I go to the random number generator, putting 1 as the minimum and maximum the number of the last ship I added to the list, then hit random, and read about that ship, keep things fresh.

7. Do you prefer to read short fics or long fics? Both.

8. How often do you reblog/comment on fics that you like? When they are on Tumblr, a few times.

9. Tag 3 fic writers you think are underrated/unknown in the fandom/fanfiction community. I’m sorry, but I don’t know if they have Tumblr, so, amirmitchell, snowdrifts, and Onde Tu Esteves

10. What’s your favorite fandom, pairing, or character to read fic for? Fandom: Game of Thrones, love all those modern universe AU I have to say. Pairing: Lucaya (Not a surprise) Character: Lucas Friar, Portgas D. Ace, Roronoa Zoro, or Prince Zuko.

Fanfiction Writing Asks:

11. How do you come up with your fic titles? Coffee, food, and usually, Spotify, all that, sometimes, make my brain work into having titles about the things I want to write.

13. Do you outline your fics? How much of a headache would someone get if they just looked at an outline of yours without reading the fic? I do outlines, in 5 stages, so a pretty big one. 1 - I write in my notebook, what I want to write, like a general idea. 2 - Post it on my walls and door, to give the story some structure. 3 - Notebook outline the arch of the story. 4 - Outline every chapter on word. 5 - Reduce that chapter into mini arches to write faster.

14. Do you have a personal word minimum that you hold yourself too? Why or why not? I do (now), I usually don’t post anything that is less than 2900 words, Why? because we must not forget that writers not only write for people in the fandom, they mainly write for themselves, and I love to read something among that word count because that’s long enough to keep me on the hook.

16. Do you research for your fics? If so, how deep of a rabbit hole have you gone down by accident when researching? I do research for my fics, how deep? I can give indications for divorce paperwork in the state of New York, even if you want or not to go scorch the earth with the “fault” rule, I can give an appropriate value to an apartment or a house in New York, Texas, Nashville, and San Francisco, and I can do taxes on those states too, and I know more about how high school classes work in the US than in my country, even when I went to those classes, and I’m from Santiago, Chile, you know, in South America, like, the last country of South America

17. How obsessively do you sit and stare at your fic after you’ve just posted and wait for feedback? I don’t, once I finish writing something, I run away, and watch anime for a few hours, or work (Yeah, sometimes I write on my lunch hour)

18. Do you have a WIP that you keep telling yourself you’ll eventually get back to, but deep down you know that’s probably a lie? I do apologize to “The Games we Play” I have no idea how I outlined your 26 chapters, but I’m still on chapter 2, and I’m sorry.

19. Do you edit your fics after you write them, or do you prefer to just hit post and run (because it’s someone else’s problem now)? Sometimes I do because sometimes, I write things wrong.

20. What’s your favorite part about the fanfiction writing process? That happiness I get when I’m in the Zone, and I write something that makes me say “Fuck, that was good”

21. What’s your least favorite part about the fanfiction writing process? I call it “The Deep White”, also known as writer’s block.

23. What’s your absolute favorite trope to write? I don’t write it anymore, because I was banned from a forum for writing it, but I love to write a bad ending, like “Killing the main character that I make you love for 30 chapters in the end” ending. I’m evil, I know, sue me.

24. What’s a trope that you’d like to never hear about as long as you live, let alone write? The “Good girl trying to change the bad boy,” I hate, apologies, I DESPISE that trope, it’s not cool, first, to be with someone abusive, and second, to try to change someone because you think you’re so almighty that you will change him (or her)  because of love, bs, I SAID BS.

25. Do you listen to music as you write? If possible, link your writing playlist. I do, and of course, it’s named “Writing Shiet” because my brain can only process decent titles for fics (Says the guy who once named a fic “No Title”) Here’s the link 

26. What’s your biggest distraction when writing? Anime and Manga.

27. Do you like to give your readers some warning of what might be coming or just slap them in the face with content at random? I don’t usually do it, but when I do it, I do it cryptic, like “You might be surprised, but this, I called in the beginning.”

28. How do you deal with writing pressure (ie: pressure to update, negative comments, deadlines, etc)? I ignore it, If I can ignore good advice, ignore something that gives me more stress it’s an easy cake.

29. Have you ever written for an exchange or event of some kind? Which one(s)? Did you enjoy it? I did but didn’t submit, I wrote for 2019 fictoberfest on Tumblr, but never send a shit, I did enjoy it tho

30. Post a snippet from your current WIP without context - no more than 300 words. "Well, we're still not in Texas," he says, implying something not PG-13 at all. "My God, in what did I turn you?" Maya teases him before getting up and grab his hand, pulling him up. Lucas grins at her, "On," he replies, making Maya flirty hit his chest

31. Of the characters you write for, which is your favorite? Has that choice been swayed at all by your followers/readers’ reactions to certain ones? I love writing Lucas and Maya, and honestly don’t know if it helps me or not LOL.

32. Copy and paste your top three favorite lines/jokes/sentences you’ve ever written. What fics do they come from? 1 - From November to June CH3 A few hours later, Maya heard a knock on her door. She takes a peek through the magic eye on her door and saw Lucas. She grabs her phone and fastly texts him. She was able to hear the 'ding' of his phone, and spying through the magic eye she saw his reaction. "Ok, first of all, I'm not that, second, my mother is not that, and third, I'm not gonna put that there, that's fucking gross, and probably deadly if you consider the size of my hands." he defends himself. 2 - Ten Duel Commandments CH2 Maya smiles at him, "Since you're all Texan cowboy goody-good boy, I imagine you would relate more with the honorable Lord Stark," she teases him. "Says the woman who read three books in a row and texts me at four in the morning," he replies before pulling out his phone, "R+L=J," he teases her, reading her text. "That's private, asshole," Maya recriminates him. 3 - The One Who Stayed CH18 "Then, I have less... GET OFF ME FUCKER!" Maya screamed, punching the person who grabbed her arm, "Holy shit, Lucas." she says, looking at the person she just hit. "Noted, never approach to you by surprise." Lucas says on the floor, "Well, this makes me feel more confident about you being here alone." he says before start laughing.

33. What do you like writing better: one-shots or multi-chapter stuff? Multi-chapter, unless, it’s wedding fics because I love weddings.

34. How much of yourself and your life experiences do you put into your writing? What do you think your readers’ image of you is? None.

35. How much has writing fic changed your life? Not much, but has made me happier.

36. Are there any fics or fandoms you’re embarrassed to have written or been part of? The Glee Project Fandom.

37. Give an update on your current WIP - if you don’t have one, give a sneak peek to a title or idea that you have and would like to write. "Shawn called him, and he assures him that if you try something inappropriate, he has a shotgun," she adds, making Lucas's face go pale. "Well, guess like father, like son," he comments, making Maya show unexpected interest in his words.

38. What does your writing process look like? How chaotic is it on a scale of 1 (very tame) to 10 (you can’t handle this kind of chaos)? As I explained in the outline question, pretty tame if we count that I have my outline process numbered LOL.

39. What’s something about your writing that you pride yourself on? That I try to make it real, I try to make people feel something when they read.

41. What’s your most popular fic (with the most notes on Tumblr, most hits/kudos on ao3)? Tumblr? The One Who Stayed Fanfiction.net? Ten Duel Commandments

44. Rant about something writing-related. Please, let’s stop glorifying the “Bad Boy” character, he’s an asshole, allow me to explain, Bakugo, fucking asshole, he’s just a bully with an oversized ego, no, he’s not a tsundere, no, it’s not cute, that shit is abusive, and it really makes me want to punch people in their nose when the romanticize that bullshit.

Done

(Told ya I was bored)

[divine17]

↳ SHE’S THUNDERSTORMS | MASTERLIST

Fandom: Stranger Things

Request: —

Warnings: SMUT, fem!reader, gentle!dom!steve x sub!reader, daddy/baby girl kink, mutual masturbation/phone sex, established romantic relationship, slight orgasm denial (?), praise kink, that probably covers it

Word Count: 3.0k

A/N: i had an idea™ ...

oh, also! written with st2!steve in mind. but you could definitely change that up if you want to!! (& not my gif!! found on tenor, posted by captainromanoff.)

Steve Harrington hated being alone.

Since he’d started dating you back in sophomore year, he could comfortably say that he didn’t find himself alone very often. The two of you were almost always together, whether it was at school or work or one of you sleeping over at the other’s house. Most people would find that annoying, probably, but him? He loved it. He savored spending every waking moment with you.

Steve loved nothing more than when he would stir awake in the middle of the night to find your arm thrown over his bare stomach and your legs all tangled together. Your warm cheek pressed against his chest, the top of your head brushing against his jawline. The feeling of you taking a deep breath in and your grasp on him growing just a little bit tighter as he adjusted himself so he could fall back asleep. That was his favorite thing, the best thing he’d ever had the simple pleasure of experiencing.

So, naturally, he found it strangely difficult to sleep now that he was completely and utterly alone.

Exactly eleven days ago, Steve’s parents had hurriedly dragged him away from you and the tiny town of Hawkins. They packed a suitcase or two and caught a plane up to New York City, a bustling city completely unlike his hometown in every single way possible. All under the guise of visiting some dumb relatives that he didn’t even know... He barely had time to tell you goodbye, but that’s alright, because he’s called you up at 10 o’clock sharp every single night since he’d left. Long, sweet conversations until one of you got too tired to continue, going well into the early morning hours before someone hung up.

It was eleven nights that the boy had been without you. The first night wasn’t that bad. It didn’t take long for him to fall asleep after such a busy day, he barely had time to think about your absence. On the second night, it began to set in; and by the fourth, he was beginning to crumble from the inside out. The seventh day that marked one week without you was the toughest. He was lonely, he needed you now more than ever. Innocently. But on the ninth, he began to feel a bit better.

Well, not exactly. But close enough. His mind slowly started to wander away from him, falling into... More promiscuous territory. The pure need had turned into a much more lustful want; the sound of your sultry little moans began to completely flood his brain, the images of your body. Your breasts bouncing as you rode him a couple nights before he left, the picture of your lips wrapped around his cock, your bright (Y/E/C) eyes staring up at him. The sweet, satisfying release that he so desperately craved. He couldn’t even count on both hands how many times he’d jacked off, trying to rid himself of what seemed like a constant hard-on, purely from the thoughts.

And by the eleventh night... To put it kindly, Steve was about to lose his fucking mind. He couldn’t shake those thoughts. They clouded his consciousness, all he could even think of. And now, his cock was achingly, painfully hard, strained against his grey sweatpants. You would’ve loved the sight of it, he was sure.

He rolled over in bed, taking his head between his palms after looking at the clock. 9:57. A couple little swears fell from his lips near-silently as he sighed. He couldn’t do this again. There was only so much his hand could do with just the memories... God, he had to get back home to you. As soon as possible. He missed you, all of you. Everything about you, he needed it. And with that, he got an an idea.

Steve sat up in bed, swinging his legs off of the mattress and onto the floor. His thin socks hit the cool tile as he stood up, slowly walking over to the large window that overlooked this part of the city. He watched for a moment, studying the yellow cabs and green lights below. The people constantly moving, in their striking neon colors and shapes. He could almost hear the chatter of them below, it seemed.

Next, he headed back to the bed, sitting down on the edge before picking up the phone. A small, black rotary, it wasn’t perfect, but he was grateful to have it. He leaned back and quickly dialed your number, and on the third ring, you picked up.

God, it was such an immediate relief to hear your voice as you answered.

“Stevie?” You asked. You weren’t really sure why you did... Who else would be calling, and at this time? He mumbled a small ‘yeah’ in response, causing a light smile to wash over your face.

After a few minutes of regular conversation, he found a sudden little bit of courage to bite the bullet and ask.

“Can we try something new tonight?” He asked. His voice was suddenly growing lustful and needier as he spoke, almost like a whine. “Everyone’s asleep, right?”

“Yeah, what is it? Why?”

“I need you to lock your door. Turn your lamp off.” The boy said. He felt like he grew more and more dominant by the second as he talked to you, but in a soft sort of way. You put the phone down, tiptoeing to your bedroom door, flicking the lock shut and switching the table lamp off. “Next, I want you to lay down on your back. Get comfortable for me, alright baby girl? I think we’re gonna be here for a while.”

You hummed in response as you laid down on your back, an arm draped across your stomach while the other held the phone to your ear, awaiting further instruction from your boyfriend.

“Take off your clothes.”

You couldn’t help but smirk a little at that one, a bit thankful that he couldn’t see you. But once again, you agreed, beginning to strip off your tanktop, tossing it into the floor. Next was your shorts, and then your panties. After that, you settled back into his desired position for you.

“I’m going to talk you through this, listen carefully...” Steve grew helplessly nervous as he began to think out his next few words, yet still remained confident. “I want you to run a finger over your pretty, pink lips. Part them, let it fall between them.”

He had to stop himself from moaning when he heard the wet sounds of you following his commands. So submissive, so obedient. Just how he liked it during times like this. It wasn’t often these days that he’d take the rather dominant role, but when he did... He was always soft, much more gentle than he had been back in, say, the King Steve days. And he was always weirdly good at it, at playing the dom. He knew just the right buttons to push and levers to pull to drive you absolutely insane, and you loved every second of it.

“Feel how hot your mouth is.... God, I love your mouth, baby. Don’t you? It’s so perfect, so warm and inviting. Suck on your finger. Feel how warm, how soft... That’s what it feels like when it’s wrapped around my cock. Like heaven.”

“Yes, Daddy.” You replied, gliding your finger over your tongue, savoring the warmth. Steve let out a light groan at the nickname. It drove him crazy when you called him that. Hell, he didn’t even know why it got him like that, but he loved it so.

“I want you to get your finger nice and wet for me. Trail it down your neck, to your tits. Now, pinch those sweet little nipples for Daddy. Let me hear you. You feel your little pussy twitch? Yeah, I thought so... Give your tits a little squeeze for me. A little rougher, just like I always do.”

You couldn’t help but moan slightly as you followed through his orders, causing him to have to take a second and remind himself to breathe. Man, no one else had ever been able to get him so worked up like this, so fucking horny that he couldn’t see straight. Only you.

“Lick your finger again, make both nipples wet. Play with it. Imagine it’s my tongue, sucking and biting just like you like. I’m there, I’m kneading your breast in one hand, using my mouth on the other…” Steve could hear that too-familiar little whine, the one you always made when your thighs began to close on him, when he gave you so much pleasure that you nearly couldn’t handle it. He knew you and your body almost a little too well. “No, baby girl. Keep those legs open for me. I want you to, slowly, trail your hand down your stomach. Slowly, Y/N. Do you feel how fucking wet you are? Who made you like that without even touching you?”

“You.” You breathed, choking back a moan. “You, Steve.”

“That’s right, baby, even though I’m almost a thousand miles away. I wish I was there with you… As soon as I get home, I’ll fuck you nice and hard just like I know you want me to. But for now, push one finger into your pussy. Just one for now, baby girl. Be patient…”

“I will, Daddy.”

“Good girl. Finger yourself for me. It’s good, but it’s not enough, is it? So needy... So pull out, circle around your clit... Gentle, slow and gentle. You know better.” Steve gave you more than a few seconds to please yourself before he spoke up again. And taking the silence to his advantage, he let his own hand fall down to his lap, slowly beginning to palm himself through the thick fabric. “Do you think you’re ready for another finger? Take your time, sweet girl. Pump them in and out...”

Steve let out a small groan, his own arousal becoming too much for him. His cock twitched against his thigh, feeling the little beads of precum fall onto his soft skin. Another soft sound when he pressed a little harder, the soft friction of the cotton against his sensitive member, driving him crazy. Fuck it.

“Baby girl, this was supposed to be just for you... I was gonna take care of myself later, but I just can’t hold back. You’re so beautiful when you moan like that, so fuck it. Baby, we’re gonna do this together.” He began to untie the strings, pulling his sweats and boxers down his hips just enough for him to pull out his aching length. More quiet curses fell from his lips as he took himself into his hand. God, he could’ve came right then and there if he really wanted to. “I’m- My hand is wrapped around my cock, my thumb is gliding over the tip. Feels so good... Imagine me pushing it inside you, push two fingers into yourself. Fuck, I can practically feel you squeezing around me... Curl those fingers, find that sweet spot that I showed you. Press against it, feel it, baby girl.”

A throaty moan finally escaped you, much to your surprise. Steve groaned, enjoying that sound to the fullest. He wished that you could be as loud as you wanted, but unfortunately, you couldn’t. You had family across the hall. His was three floors down, and he was very thankful that he himself didn’t have to worry about that. He could talk at just above a whisper but below a normal speaking voice, so (really, accidentally) sexy and perfect.

“I want you to put the phone down next to your ear. Rub your clit, use both hands if you want to, so your fingers keep working. Be gentle, so gentle... When you pull your fingers out, I want you to suck on them. Taste yourself, I know you love it, baby. Pretend they’re my fingers, slick with your wetness.”

“Oh, fuck,” You mumbled, trying to keep yourself quiet,. Not quite failing, but... Not exactly succeeding, either. Not that either of you much cared at the moment. You sighed lightly as you licked over your fingers, and he inhaled sharply upon hearing the obscene sound of it. Wet, your lips wrapped around your digits, tongue sweetly licking up the mess on them. “Daddy... I’m so close.”

“I know, baby girl, just keep playing with your clit. Fingers, in and out, hitting that spot... God, fuck, what I wouldn’t give to be there with you. I don’t think, I-I don’t think I’d be able to resist you... Oh, it feels so good when I close my eyes, I can see you above me, hands tangled in my hair while you ride my cock.” His own strokes became quicker as he spoke, a smile seeping through his voice. He loved that sight, that thought, more than anything else. He squeezed himself slightly, imagining that it was your pussy squeezing him so nice, so invitingly, just like always.

The more he spoke, the quicker your orgasm approached, the sweet, hot waves of pleasure washing over you violently. You began to focus solely on his voice, and with that, you started to let your moans get louder... And louder, and louder, until finally he had to stop you.

“Baby girl, hey, listen to me.” He said, through broken words. He found himself a panting mess at this point. “You have to be quiet. I want you to be quiet, daddy needs you to be quiet. I want you to whimper, so softly, so quietly. Okay? Can you do that for me?”

“Mhm.” You whined, nodding your head. Completely forgetting that the brunette boy couldn’t see you. But somehow, he just knew that’s what you were doing.

“I want you to go harder, deeper. Raise your hips up a bit. Fuck yourself so good, baby.” Small whimpers and little cries of pleasure began to fall from your lips as you followed his suggestion. Oh, how that brought a smile to his face. His pretty little girl obeying him so perfectly. “You’re such a good girl, Y/N.”

His praise only fueled the fire in the pit of your stomach, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. “Daddy, I’m going to come.”

“No, not yet. Not yet.” He said lightly. “I want to come at the same time as you. Can you try to hold it until Daddy says so?”

You mumbled a small ‘yes’ to him, listening closer to him. The sound of flesh on flesh, his moans, his words, the stillness of the bedroom he was in. You wondered what it looked like, if it was anything like his own bedroom back home.

Sweet sounds fell from the both of you for a little while longer. Steve bucked his hips into his hands as he stroked his length, letting himself grow louder, but not by much, until he finally began to feel his orgasm creeping up on him. You let the little whines and cries and whimpers of pleasure, the tiny moans of his name, fall from your lips. He savored that, wishing he could bottle it up and save it forever. There truly was nothing better, as far as he was concerned.

“Baby, you wanna come?” He asked heavily, a slight growl ripping through his throat. You vigorously nodded, giving him a slight ‘uh huh’ as you continued your actions. “Let’s slow down now, alright? Nice and slow, hard and deep. Match that rhythm... You’re gonna come for me, baby girl. We’ll come together...”

By the end of his sentence, Steve’s voice had grown fiercer, heavier. Thick pants and rough moans rising from his throat. He was so, so close to the edge. So close. He was becoming more and more scatterbrained, more focused on his single task at hand. Getting the two of you off, and making it amazing, more than usual.

“Come. Come for Daddy. Now, oh, fuck.”

He began to crumble, unable to hold himself back. A series of moans of your name, louder little breathy pants, sweet and unrestrained sounds. Thick, hot, white ropes of his release spurting onto his stomach. Messy, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He sounded almost... Angelic, in a fucked up sort of way. And with that, you began to come. Choked sobs and cries of his name, they were saccharine on his tongue as you cane undone. So sweet, so beautiful, exactly what he needed to hear right now. A reminder of his neverending love for you, delivered in a strange fashion.

After a moment of heavy breathing from the both of you, he spoke up.

“I hope... I hope that was as good for you as it was for me.” He said, still catching his breath from the intense orgasm that had just torn through him. You could only muster up a breathy little ‘yes’ as you recovered, eyes closed and phone still as close to you as ever.

“God, it was. It was so good...” You said, quietly, under your breath. “We should do that more often, Steve.”

“Yeah.” He nodded his head, mind still reeling. “We really do.”

It wasn’t long before you both began to drift off to sleep, exhausted. He turned his bedside lamp on and began to clean himself up as the two of you spoke in hushed whispers back and forth. He could hear the tiredness in your voice as you spoke, the raspiness that you always had when you were sleepy. To be honest, he thought it was so cute, and loved hearing you like that.

Silence fell between the two of you after a few minutes more of regular conversation. Talking about your respective days, the hot gossip back home, what’s going on in New York. Then, Steve began to hear what sounded like, well... Faint snores. Soft, faint little snores from your end of the line. He laughed quietly, shaking his head.

“Y/N?” He asked. No response. He decided to stay for a moment longer. “I love you so much... Sleep good, baby girl. I’ll be home tomorrow.”

[team-science-mega-nerds]

Fictober Prompt #20: “You could talk about it, you know?”

Fandom: Supergirl:

Pairing: AgentCorp (Alex x Lena)

Warnings: None

When Alex gets the call, she starts packing immediately. She calls Kara on the way to the airport and texts Eliza, but no matter what they say, she’s going. Research is something that Alex can do mindlessly. It requires focus, yes, but when she’s in the zone, nothing else matters. Alex also likes trying new things. Her ex had called her adventurous in the bedroom but old reliable in real life and Alex hated her so much for it, that she took a contract position in Metropolis for six months. Alex was tired of being that person. Predictable. She wanted something more. 

And then, there’s what happened four months ago. But that? Alex never talks about. 

These days, Alex goes with the flow and if that means being one of seventy-five researchers boarding a ship from Norway and embarking on a year-long arctic expedition, then so be it. She knows the training itself will be difficult. This isn’t just about research, it’s about mental and physical stability and Alex has to dig deep to remain consistent and convince everyone that she’s prepared. 

When they actually embark, Alex has a backpack filled with letters written from Kara. Most of them are supportive, plenty are questioning, but Alex’s replies have always been good. Positive. She’s ready. She can’t deal with real-life right now. 

The actual expedition begins with a bang. Champagne in the main cafeteria and some kind of stew that looks like it would weigh Alex down. Alex lingers around a few other researchers, who she’d call friends at this point, and pokes around at some bread. “I’m more of a whiskey girl myself,” Someone says a few tables over. Alex pokes her head up, recognizing the voice almost immediately. Lena Luthor. A brilliant mind, a no-bullshit attitude, Alex had been warned at least a dozen times to stay away from her. She bought herself onto this ship, Derek had muttered to Alex when they’d received their wetsuits and gear. 

Alex was used to men undermining her, so she took his words with a grain of salt, but she had to wonder. Almost everyone had made their research intentions clear by now, but Lena was still a mystery. Alex discards her plate and approaches Lena. Alex unzips her jacket and flashes the flask she has in her double-layered jacket. “Wanna take a walk?” 

“Absolutely,” Lena says, eagerly following Alex. 

A walk was maybe pushing it, but avoiding the congestion of the mess hall, Lena and Alex find an empty lab with a small lounge area. Lena sits on the couch first but Alex holds out her hand. “I’m Alex.”

“Yeah, I know and I suspect you know who I am.” Lena grabs the flask out of Alex’s pocket without hesitation. “Saw you on the range, pretty impressive.”

“Army.”

“I figured.” Alex didn’t know that anyone had been paying attention to her, let alone someone as well known as Lena. Alex believes that Lena’s intentions must be something greater. This isn’t just about publicity. The amount of training involved alone would make most people quit on day one. Lena had struggled with some of the tactical elements. She was terrible with her shotgun and not very good at getting into her harness during their helicopter drills. But Lena was persistent and Alex could see it in her eyes, even as they traded a flask filled with whiskey back and forth. “You’re studying polar bear movement and health?”

“Yep.” Alex kicks back and sinks into the couch. “You must be on the small scale climate change team.”

“Team?” 

“You guys are like the cool kids. We’re the dweebs,” Alex smiles. “You’re doing the 2-1-2 rotation?”

“Yeah, you too, right?” Alex nods. “We’ll be seeing a lot of each other.” Alex doesn’t know if that’s a good or a bad thing but she decides that she won’t ignore this friendship in favor of isolating herself.  

In her first week on the ship, Alex manages to finally come up with a proper thesis. She’s prepared to write a paper on this when the mission is over but she’s a bit rusty. Alex treks on, learning everything she can from her fellow researchers, while they’re still in the lull before things start picking up. While Alex is just wrapping up her Skype session with Kara, she hears frustrated muttering from the room across the hall. Lena’s room to be exact. 

“Luthor, you need help?” Alex yells. 

“Fucking shit!” Lena grumbles. “Yeah, can you come here for a sec?” Alex blows a kiss to Kara before signing out and heading over to Lena’s room. This is only the third time Alex has been in here but it’s just as clean as it was on that very first day. Lena is sitting on the ground with a mess of wires and her computer next to her. “This system is from like the 80s.”

“You’re not so smart after all,” Alex jokes as she shoos Lena aside and gets to work setting up the equipment. Lena lounges on her bed and watches Alex. 

“So, that was your sister, right?” 

“Hm?”

“That you were just talking to.” Alex glances up for a second. Usually, Lena is very casual but something about this conversation seems to be leading somewhere different. 

“Yeah. Kara.” 

“Because I wondered…” Alex’s heart starts to race. Alex can’t meet Lena’s eyes. She doesn’t want anyone wondering anything about her. She took this journey to get away from hard questions not to run right into them. “About the ring.”

“What ring?” 

“The one that’s missing from your finger.” Alex looks down at her hand and the tan line that’s sitting vacant on her ring finger. “Anyway...I’ll stop being observant if you want me to.”

“Please. It’s not something I really want to get into.” Lena respects her wishes. They continue their nightly drinking sessions which turn into rowdy card games and once - only once - Alex looks into Lena’s eyes for longer than necessary. It’s all fine. Alex calls Kara that night and she sits in her locked room, cuddling a pillow and listening to Kara talk endlessly about her day. 

“Are you okay?”

“Sure,” Alex mutters. 

“I would get on a plane and find you if you needed it.”

“You can’t. Literally, it’d be impossible.”

“Sisters do impossible things all the time.” Kara smiles. “You’re out there trying to save the world, aren’t you?” Kara’s video feed keeps freezing and it drives Alex crazy. So crazy that she kicks a hole through the screen. She didn’t know that being around this many people would feel like loneliness. The same feeling that she’d been trying to drown out for four months slowly began to creep up on her. 

All this and her stupid pride nearly get her killed the next day. As she’s laying there with her life flashing before her eyes, she considers how fitting it is that she will probably freeze to death out there. Alex is saved because she always is. The med bay is frenzied, everyone checking in on her and no one acknowledging the fact that Alex had been reckless. It takes a while for Alex to regain feeling in her body and then, suddenly, all the emotions come flooding in. Lena picks that exact moment to come into the room. “Was that a fucking cry for help or something?” Alex notices that Lena’s eyes are red like she’d been crying. 

“Fuck off-.”

“You were reckless out there. You need to do better.”

“Thanks. That’s helpful.”

“What do you want me to say?” Lena asks as she shrugs out of her jacket and practically throws it into a chair. “You know you’re brooding might be cool where you’re from but if it’s going to put you in danger like that, then you seriously need to talk to someone.”

“It was a mistake.” 

“You can’t make mistakes like that not when people care-.” Lena closes her eyes. “The polar bears need you.” Alex breaks into a fit of laughter that quickly morphs into something unexplainable. Tears. Lena holds her through it all which makes Alex feel different. 

Renewed. 

After Alex has pushed around her dinner and listened to Lena explain everything she’s read in their daily news debrief, things between them get very quiet. Alex expects a question because Lena is the kind of person who needs to know everything. Instead, Lena offers Alex a middle ground. “I’m going to ask you something now.” Lena props her head up with her elbows pressed against Alex’s hospital bed. “Are you married?”

“No.”

“Divorced?”

“No.” Lena looks confused so Alex adds, “I was though. Married, I mean.” 

“You could talk about it, you know?” Lena motions to the empty room. “It’s just us. All the secrets travel out in that ice-cold tundra and...they disappear.”

“She’d dead, Lena.” Alex sits up and wonders why it feels okay to finally talk about her. “She died four months before we started training. Which, everyone told me...screamed and yelled at me, don’t go out there, you’re just upset. ‘Just upset’”.” Alex scoffs. “If they understood the fucking insanity of life without...her.” For once, Alex isn’t coddled, she’s allowed to feel everything. It doesn’t come as a surprise that Lena is the one who lets her. “If I didn’t do this if I didn’t take this risk...I couldn’t have made it back home. Too many reminders.”

“Grief is a nuisance,” Lena remarks. “If only it was all good times on the HMS Discovery.” There’s something that signals clarity in Lena’s voice. Alex doesn’t feel talked down to but understood. It’s taken her a while to find someone who understands the impermanence of life. It makes sense if Alex takes a step back and thinks about it. Lena studies climate change. They're both constantly thinking about how the world is folding in on itself more and more every day. This idea and this moment become the cornerstone of their friendship. 

Four months and two stops into the expedition and Alex and Lena find themselves pulling an all-nighter in the lab. Alex is used to this kind of work, Lena slugs through it. “Hey, I read a conspiracy theory about you today.”

“Really? Was it good? Am I an alien yet, I’ve always wanted to be called an alien.” Alex finishes a measurement and yanks off her gloves. 

“No, actually, someone apparently thinks that you’re not even on this expedition but actually in Italy with...get this: your rugby-playing boyfriend.” Lena seems to find it significantly less funny than Alex does. 

“That’s the best they can come up with?” Lena rolls her eyes. “The idea that I’m straight is the most offensive part of that, by the way.” 

“Aren’t rugby players kinda...jocky?”

“You’re just jealous 'cause you’re a giant nerd.” Lena whacks Alex’s stomach with the back of her hand. “A nerd with abs, very dynamic.” 

Two hours later, they have their first kiss. It’s an accident. Lena’s lips brushing against Alex’s neck as they pull apart from a hug. The second kiss comes at full force. It’s Alex who initiates it and as she’s pulling Lena into her room, it’s Alex that pushes her away. “I can’t. Sorry, it’s not…” Alex covers her face with her hands. She groans and turns away. “This is wrong. It’s...it’s me, I don’t know what I’m doing.” If Lena had said something like neither do I, they might’ve continued kissing. But she doesn’t and as quickly as it began, their unfiltered romance surrounded by nature that is facing destruction head-on ends.

Lena does apologize. It comes a week later. Lena stands at Alex’s door wringing her hands. “Sorry about what happened. Kissing you. I shouldn’t have taken advantage, you’re grieving.”

“You didn’t. I kissed you,” Alex reminds her. 

Alex gets an unprompted Skype call and when she sees Kara’s name she answers immediately. Kara looks at the camera all nervous and apologetic. “Sorry,” she mutters before pushing her webcam to the side and revealing Eliza.

“Alex, finally, I haven’t talked to you in weeks. How are you doing?” It feels like an I told you so waiting to happen. Suddenly, Lena’s in the room holding a deck of cards. Eliza’s eyes soften for some reason.

“Hey, sorry, just wondering if you wanted to play?” Lena asks.

“Oh-.”

“Go on, Alex, play with your friend,” Eliza insists. “We love you, dear. Kara and I are proud.” It’s the first time that Eliza sounds like she actually accepts Alex’s choice. Alex waves goodbye to Eliza and Kara before shutting off her computer and turning to Lena. 

“Your mom’s kinda a babe,” Lena says immediately breaking the tension. 

“Please, never say anything like that ever again.”

The third time they kiss, it’s after Lena has completely destroyed Alex in UNO. Alex suspects she’d rigged the game and when she goes to ask, Lena is busy putting her hair up in a ponytail. “You look nice,” Alex says pretending it’s the first time she’s noticed but it’s not. Lena’s smile is almost mischievous.

“I know. It’s the outfit that does the trick. I just love the sound of my synthetic pants.” Lena moves her legs against each other making the wosh wosh sound they hear every day as researchers milled about the hallway. “And I’m sure the bags under my eyes just add to the allure.”

“Totally.”

“Your flirting is weak sauce, Danvers. Bring it or get to the back of the line. I’ve got rugby admirers and conspiracy theorists galore.”

“I just want to kiss you.”

“Really? For real this time?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” They kiss and soon fall into Alex’s tiny bed together. As they’re scrambling to take their clothes off, Lena pulls the blanket over their bodies. “It’s fucking freezing.” She mouths against Alex’s collar. “I guess that’s what we signed up for.” Alex isn’t certain she had a plan coming into this but being around Lena somehow gave her permission to heal. She wasn’t certain what the world would throw her way next but she had another six months on an arctic expedition to figure it out.

[mcwriting]

starstruck (1)

Before anyone says ANYTHING, this is absolutely 100% no doubt about it inspired by @insane-less “Not a fan” because I absolutely loved the chapters that were written and Starstruck is one my favorite standalone DCOMs. Standalone, of course, meaning a film with no sequels and not based off a TV show.

There will obviously be some similarities to not a fan just because they’re based off of the same film, but I’m trying to keep it pretty original. I haven’t read not a fan in a while and did not while I was writing this to keep it authentic, though I did read over the starstruck plot a little bit.

Going to be multi part. I realized about halfway through writing that it was almost 4k words and I hate reading things that long in one sitting, plus I still have to finish it lol. As of now, it is half-written so this should be a quick release story. AND I’ll actually try to finish it (unlike a flight to remember rip)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10

                                               Important info:

Fandom: Tommo Holland 

Ship: Tom Holland x Reader

Setting: LA in general

Word Count: 2185 (oof)

Warnings: some “bad” words. Very mild. Mention of an injury.

Rating: K+ now, maybe T later. Haven’t decided.

Background: um well it’s based on Starstruck (2010) and it's a Tom holland fic so yeah. 

B/f/n: your best friend’s name 

                              __________________________________

“I’m not going with you to see Tom Holland, and that’s final!” You exclaim to your annoyingly persistent best friend.

“Come on, y/n! I mean, what can you even have against him?” She pleads.

“Well for starters he looks like he’s 12, he’s not that good at acting, and he just rubs me the wrong way. I don’t know how to explain it,” you state.

“Uh first, he’s 22 and absolutely gorgeous, second, when have you even seen one of his movies, and third, he’s a great guy! Not to mention he’s a trained dancer like you!”

“Just because he happens to dance doesn’t mean I’m gonna suddenly fall in love with him. Plus, how do you know I’m not going out tomorrow?”

“Y/n, there’s literally no way you’re going out because I’m the only person you go to parties with,” b/f/n said.

“Okay fine, but give me one good, solid reason I should even consider going to this Spider-Man premiere,” you say, arms folded.

“Well it’s not like Tom’s the only star that’ll be there,” she explained, “Zendaya will be walking, too.”

You perked up a little bit and b/f/n waggled her eyebrows at you.

“Fine, I’ll go. But only for Zendaya.”

                             __________________________________

“B/f/n it’s like a million degrees out here!” you complained. Even though you wore the shortest shorts you owned and pulled back your hair, the LA heat on top of the millions of teenage girls squished up around you was making you uncomfortable.

The two of you had been able to get there early enough to be right in the front at the barriers, giving you a clear view of the action.

ugh.

While your friend rambled on about Tom and the movie and her excitement, you pulled out your phone and mumbled, “Tell me when Zendaya comes out here.”

You had tons of DM’s on instagram, solely from the fact that b/f/n had posted a video on her story (where you tastefully lowered your sunglasses at the camera before flipping it off) and people couldn’t help but comment how “lucky” you were and how you should be “excited.”

Finally, the time came where the cast and crew began walking, and you stood apathetically, only cheering and taking pictures when Zendaya came out. You even put your sunglasses on top of your head to see her in the plain light.

After her colleagues came to the theatre, a gorgeous Audi E-tron concept convertible came down the road slowly, cheers picking up as you realized that Tom Holland was riding in the back with a blonde guy you indicated to be named Harrison from b/f/n’s screaming. 

Seeing his features in person, you were still… underwhelmed. Sure you could see why people thought he was attractive, but he was just another guy. You didn’t cheer as he came up, waving to the crowd.

He turned to your side to wave when his eyes met yours. Undoubtedly, his smile faltered for a second before picking back up again, brighter than before. You leaned into your best friend and asked,

“Did you see that?” in an almost offended tone. Who was he to look at you like that? The only reply you received was more screaming and “HE LOOKED OVER HERE CAN YOU BELIEVE!!?!” to which you rolled your eyes.

He eyes met yours again and you looked away, annoyed that he seemed to be singling you out of all the people there.

After exiting the car, he ran down the line shaking hands and taking a few pictures. Next thing you knew, he was taking b/f/n’s phone to have a selfie. She threw an arm around your shoulder and exclaimed,

“Get in, y/n!”

You subconsciously smiled and with that he headed towards his cast, saying,

“Make sure to tag me in that!” as he left.

“I swear if you even think about posting that…” you threatened, earning a smug smile from the friend you were now prepared to disown.

                             __________________________________

Your instagram was blowing up as you headed to the dance studio. Unfortunately for you, the person you still chose to call best friend had posted the photo after all, tagging you and Tom in the selfie. It had been seen and reposted by fan accounts, and many of those fans were following and commenting and messaging you about it.

In your opinion, the picture sucked. Not because it was a bad picture or that you looked terrible.

The problem was that you looked great. 

It was somehow one of the most flattering pictures anyone had ever taken of you and it angered you to think it gave an impression that you even cared in the slightest about Tom Holland.

As you stared at it longer, you wished you had either covered your face or gone without smiling. SOMETHING to show how little you cared.

You finally arrived and went to a private studio, deciding to let dance drown out the thoughts and help you channel your frustration.

You warmed up and then decided to practice an emotional piece you previously choreographed for an upcoming show. As you danced, stress flowed out in the form of tears as raw emotion emitted from your movements. 

You finished the dance exhausted yet glad that you had been able to channel everything into it, until you heard a male voice quietly say,

“Wow.”

Your head whipped around and a flash of anger hit when your eyes once again met those of Tom Holland’s as he stood in the doorway. 

“What are you doing here?” you asked coldly, mad that the seeming bane of your existence had just watched you pour out your heart on the dance floor, crying and sweaty and vulnerable.

“I, uh, well… I was invited to tour the studio and happened to see you in here, and you were incredible, breathtaking, really. You’re the girl from the premiere, y/n?”

“Thanks but this was private. And why do you care who I am? I was only at the premiere because my friend forced me to go.”

He stepped forward.

“I’m sorry if I’ve caused you any problems. I figured you were a fan but I guess I misjudged…”

“Look man,” you began walking backwards towards your bag, “I was there for Zendaya and my friend. Nothing against you, but I'm just not one of your little teenage girl obsessors. Now if you’ll excuse m-”

And that's when you slipped and hit the floor. The wind was knocked out of you and your head had banged onto the ground, pain pulsing around the area.

“Woah, darling, are you alright?” Tom asked, rushing to kneel by your side.

“Don’t call me darling, and help me get to a doctors office.”

                             __________________________________

“Well, Ms. y/l/n, looks like you don’t have a concussion, but make sure to rest up for a couple days and take some painkillers and you’ll be in ship-shape,” the ER doctor informed you. 

You went to the check-out desk and walked around to waiting area, where a few people were pointing and whispering at Tom, who was nervously bouncing his knee. He stood up when he saw you.

“Y/n! What did they sa-”

“Just come with me spider boy. I’ll tell you while you drive me home,” you said, grabbing him by the wrist and dragging him out the door.

                             __________________________________

“Shit,” Tom exclaimed under his breath after a few moments of awkward silence. 

“Get down, now,” he commanded.

“Excuse me?”

“Get. Down. We’re being followed”

You ducked down before whisper-yelling a “what are you talking about? Are you insane?”

He asked what to do since it was obvious that whoever was behind you wasn’t planning on going away any time soon. An idea popped into your head.

“Do you trust me?” You pleaded, almost kind and soft for the first time to him, “I might have an idea.”

“Anything to get us out of this.”

You and Tom threw some sunglasses on and you made a makeshift headscarf with a ballet skirt for yourself. You had him drive near your neighborhood in circles for a bit when the car finally passed you, trying to get pictures to sell.

You ducked and Tom sped off onto a side street towards your house. Thankfully, your parents had recently installed garage doors that connected to your phone, and your car was in the shop, so Tom was able to pull into your spot and you shut the door behind him.

“That was close,” he breathed, putting a hand on his heart, and you too felt your pulse racing.

“Now, we wait,” you said. 

“Alright, do you want to go in so you can rest? You look exhausted.”

“NO. I mean, uh, we can’t. My best friend is supposed to be coming over today and she’s the one who’s like, obsessed with you.”

“Can’t you cancel? You almost got a concussion after all.” 

“I guess, but my parents might not be happy knowing a random guy is in their house. How about I check the security cameras and see if the coast is clear?”

It wasn’t. Sitting across the street was the same car from earlier, one that definitely did not belong to your street, either. 

After sitting uncomfortably in the car for a half hour, you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Let’s just go inside, but don’t make a big deal out of it.”

                             __________________________________

You yelled to your parents that a friend was staying the night as you snuck Tom up the stairs to your room.

“Staying the night?” he asked in his stupidly attractive accent as soon as you shut the door.

“Look, I hate this as much as you, but that pap or whoever he is probably won’t be leaving any time today. Since I’m being nice, I figured you could sleep on the floor or something. Don’t worry, I’ll find you blankets later.”

You sat on the foot of your bed and texted b/f/n, explaining that something had come up with dance and there was no way you could hang out. After a few minutes, you noticed that Tom hadn’t moved from standing by your door, and was quietly scanning the room.

“Are you gonna, like, sit down? You’re kinda making me nervous,” you stated awkwardly, glancing to the side.

“Oh, well, I didn’t want to be in the way and I know you don’t really want me here so I thought I’d stay over here. I’m fine, really.”

You rolled your eyes and patted the mattress next to you.

“Take a seat, bro. It’s gonna be a long night.”

                             __________________________________

You carefully carried some cokes and two plates of pizza into the room, where Tom was now seated comfortably on your bed. You had had the time to shower and change into clean clothes in the hour between coming home and dinner. He pocketed his phone and smiled upon seeing you.

“Here, let me help,” he offered, grabbing a plate and helping you set down the drinks.

“My parents were asking who was up here with me. I just told them you were a friend from dance and very shy.”

He chuckled and took a bite.

“Can I ask something?” You nodded. “Why exactly were you at the premiere the other day?”

You sighed and set down your pizza, explaining how b/f/n had coaxed you into coming.

“In all honesty, I probably would have said yes no matter what, I mean she’s my best friend after all, but I may have reconsidered if I knew this would be the outcome,” you laughed.

“Oh come on, you know you love me,” he joked back, prompting a look of slight disgust, another of many eye rolls, and a slight shove on the arm.

You continued talking well into the night, him explaining his story and you telling of your own life and aspirations. At some point you both lied back on the bed to continue talking and finally succumbed to exhaustion well into the early morning.

                             __________________________________

Sunlight streamed into your open curtains, blinding you as you awoke. You were confused as to why you weren’t underneath the covers and rolled over to find a famous person asleep on your bed. 

Your eyes widened and you moved to scoot out of the bed when he rolled over and inadvertently threw an arm over your side. Stuck under his muscular limb, you stayed still and closed your eyes, hoping he would eventually let go or wake up.

The faint remains of his cologne wafted to your nose and you couldn’t help but breathe it in. You relaxed further into his grip and stayed comfortable until you heard a buzz on the table next to you.

You decided to ignore it until it happened two more times. Finally, you decided to wiggle out of Tom’s grip and succeeded without waking him. You picked up the cell and noticed it was 10 a.m. and all three texts were from b/f/n.

                             __________________________________

Edited A/N: Omg I posted this once before then tried to edit my tags on mobile and it deleted EVERYTHING! Thank the Lord because I have the whole fic saved in my google drive (something I’ve never done until this fic) and I’m so glad it is. 

Anyways, there’s a part 2 linked at the top and part 3 is coming soon. Message me or ask to be in my tag list for this fic

[pickalilywrites]

Can you write a Rivetra Arranged Marriage AU if you want please? I would really love to see how they will warm up to each other. Thank you in advance! Your work for the Snk fandom is truly amazing.

thank you for your kind words! sorry it took me so long to write. i’m kind of in a funk ^^” i wanted to do a modern arranged marriage since i think most arranged marriage aus are in a historical setting and a modern au would be a nice change of pace~ so kind of a political/arranged marriage type of deal? it’s partially inspired by the kdrama search: www which features one of the cutest ones :O but other than the arranged marriage deal, it’s very different ^^” i hope you like it!

ps if you’re looking for a kdrama w/ a rivetra dynamic, i highly recommend watching because this is my first life! you can watch it for free on viki :) 

A Love That is Sown

Rivetra. K-Drama AU. 

A Love That Blooms series: Part i

3673 words. 

Buy me a ko-fi!

Petra sits at the back of the limousine, playing with the wedding band around her ring finger as she gazes out the window. It’s a beautiful band, two golden ribbons looped around each other infinitely as a symbol of eternity. At first glance, the ring is simplistic in style, but a closer look would allow one to see the intricately cut diamonds - fashioned in a way that the precious stones sparkled at every angle - studded in one of the single golden bands that made up the ring and the ornate design cast onto the other band. The rose gold of the band, too, was something Petra had been unsure about at first. The metal had never appealed to her before, but she soon grew to like the look of it on her finger. Its subtle pink hue has a warmth to it that its white and yellow gold counterparts lack, and it contrasts well against the glittering diamonds. Truly, it’s a wedding ring that’s fit for a modern-day princess, and yet Petra still cannot help but feel the need to remove it from her finger.

She slides the ring from her finger and marvels at how easily it leaves. Not even a mark remains to show where it had been. She wonders if the ring will be as easy to take off in a year or five years after that. She wonders if she’ll be able to leave this all behind unscathed.

There is no doubt that there are many who would gladly take her place. Despite her deep unhappiness, her circumstances are not unpleasant. However, they are not ideal either. Upon graduating university with a business degree, Petra had been determined to help her father with his business, a floundering publishing house that had once been popular back in the day, but no amount of grit and determination could save the company from going under. In a last attempt to save her father’s business, she had sought a meeting with Levi Ackerman, head of Ackerman Enterprises, with an absolutely insane proposal - the wealthy businessman would be able to acquire the small but prestigious publishing house as long as he kept her as the publisher. As an added bonus, she would connect him with any and all business partners that the publishing house was associated with and strengthen the already strong hold that Ackerman Enterprises had over the city. She had thought that he would refuse her outright, but to her surprise, the man had signed her contract without much coaxing. The next day, Petra became the wife of one of the richest men in the world. Had Petra been a simpler woman, one that could easily be satiated with fame and fortune, perhaps she would not be brooding at the back of the limousine with a pensive expression on her face. Were she that type of woman, she would no doubt be happily on her way to her husband’s charity dinner, eager to greet him in a white gown that was worth a small fortune. However, Petra Ral is no such woman and so she sits in the back of the vehicle wondering if her husband would even be happy to see her.

Petra’s not sure whether or not she dislikes her husband, but she supposes that’s fairly normal in a contract marriage. Perhaps she should like him a little bit for his willingness to get married to her so quickly - all it took was for him to glance down at the contract she had written down the night before complete with the businesses and connections he would acquire through the marriage for him to agree. When she had watched him sign the contract, she thought for half a second that this man was her savior, but she quickly realized that this was purely a business decision of his - not one that was made from altruism or the goodness in his heart - and she quietly accepted the fact that she would be spending the rest of her life married to a man who cared more about his money than his own happiness. In a way, though, she was the same for marrying a man just to save her father’s failing business, so she couldn’t hate this man either.

To be fair, it’s possible that her husband dislikes her. Although they’ve been married for a good month, he had never made any attempts to sleep with her. The first night of their marriage, she had crawled into bed wondering if he would soon follow her only to have her husband open the door and inform her that he would be sleeping in another room for the time being. He hasn’t visited her sleeping quarters since. A part of her wonders if it’s because he doesn’t like women or if it’s because he dislikes her in particular. Then again, it’s not as if she’s made any attempt to sleep with him either. Perhaps he’s wondering the same thing about her.

She still wonders why he accepted that deal. It’s not as if she’s particularly pretty, and her father’s hadn’t been worth much by the time she had come to Levi with her proposal. Then again, perhaps he had seen value in it where she could not because the business began to flourish as soon as it was in his hands. Petra can’t even say what changed after the publishing house became a part of Ackerman Enterprises. As promised, she still holds the title of publisher and is responsible for many of the key operations necessary for the business to function. However, she had never managed to find success in her business before it had become associated with Ackerman Enterprises. Suddenly, the publishing house was flooded with calls from other businesses that wanted to collaborate or request the services of the company. That must be the power of connections.

When City Hall comes into view, Petra slips her wedding ring back onto her finger. Although she’s unhappy in her marriage, it’s not entirely unbearable. She can at least pretend to be happy in the eye of the public. Besides, it’s not as if she’s trapped in this marriage forever. Although she’s bound to him by a contract, contracts can be broken. Time will pass and Levi may come across someone more beautiful or more advantageous to wed. Or maybe her business will flounder once more and he’ll see no need to tie himself to her any longer. She’s sure that he’s unlikely to object. It’s just a contract. Love can’t bloom from pen and paper. She expects it’ll be at least five years before she finds the perfect opportunity to strike, although she might be a bit optimistic with her time frame.

The limousine slows down at the front entrance, stopping at the red carpet. Petra takes out her pocket mirror to check her reflection one last time. It’s her third time attending a high-society event, but she’s still unaccustomed to the glitz and the glamor necessary to attend such events. Her hair is tied elegantly into a bun at the base of her neck, a few tendrils falling from her temple to give off a romantic look, but all she can think about are the many pins holding up her hair that are sure to hurt when she lets her hair down. She turns her head, inspecting her makeup. It’s not a lot - just a bit of blush and mascara, a faint pink stain of lipstick on her lips - and yet it still feels as if it’s caked on, although it certainly doesn’t look that way. She’s sure that she’s never looked more beautiful, but she doesn’t feel that way at all. She just feels stiff, uncomfortable, and completely out of place.

The door opens, and Petra snaps her hand mirror shut, dropping it into her purse. She climbs out of the limousine, careful not to stop on the tulle skirt of her floor-length gown. As soon as she steps out onto the crimson carpet, she’s blinded by the camera flashes from paparazzi and news media outlets. Although she wishes nothing more than to raise her hand to cover the bright lights, Petra smiles graciously at all the spectators as she makes her way down the carpet. Really, she despises events such as these. It surprises her that someone like Levi, who she has never seen as particularly sociable, attends and even plans these types of charities, but she supposes he has an image to uphold. Then again, she does too. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t have bothered coming.

The carpet seems to stretch infinitely, and Petra grits her teeth to keep from frowning at the celebrities and politicians ahead of her that she no doubt must greet before entering the building. Even further, she sees her husband standing at the doors to City Hall, greeting everyone wealthy enough to come to the event. Even though she can’t see him, Petra knows he’s wearing that smile he reserves for these types of occasions - the corners of his lips slightly upturned but his eyes unsmiling. She’s never seen him smiling at any other time, and she’s almost confident that isn’t his real smile. Maybe he doesn’t know how to smile, she quietly muses.

The people behind the velvet ropes call to Petra, screaming out her name and asking about her marriage to one of the world’s richest men. She turns to them and flashes a gracious smile, trying to appear humble even though she’s dressed in a gown that’s worth more than her entire wardrobe. She always finds these charity dinners to be incredibly hypocritical - rich people dressing up to show off their wealth and giving only a small portion of their money to charities they can’t even remember the names of. It’s clear that this hypocrisy doesn’t bother the press, though. They flock to the carpet, leaning over the red ropes and trying to get as close to the elite guests as possible. Although there’s quite a distance between them, Petra still finds herself feeling stifled and claustrophobic.

“What are you doing here?”

When Petra turns, she sees Levi walking towards her, the tails of his white tuxedo flying behind him. His hair is slicked back the way it usually is for these overly extravagant parties, and his smile is gone, replaced with that perpetual frown he usually wears when he’s out of the view of cameras. When he reaches her, she slips her arm around his, flashing a smile at him but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

“It’s good to see you too,” Petra says, leaning over to give him a quick peck on the cheek. A faint pink lipstick stain is left on his cheek, but Levi makes no effort to wipe it away. She allows him to lead her across the red carpet. She wonders if it’s because of embarrassment that he walks so quickly, unintentionally ruining the view of photographers and other excited bystanders watching from the sidelines. “I almost didn’t come. You should have told me about it. I had to find it this morning after running into your secretary.”

Levi gives her a sideways glance. “I was under the impression that you didn’t enjoy these types of events.”

“It’s important to uphold our image,” she replies. She slows down to give a photographer a wave and a smile. “After all, I am your wife.”

He doesn’t reply. At a glance, it’s difficult to tell whether or not he’s angry that she arrived without any announcement. His mouth is set in that same thin line that it always is as he leads her towards the doors to City Hall. “If you had told me earlier, I would have arranged a more comfortable arrival for you so that you needn’t be under the scrutiny of all these reporters.”

“It’s fine. I can handle it,” Petra assures him. Although she’s attended these events before, this is only the second time she’s walked the red carpet. The first time, she attended an awards ceremony with Levi, but the constant hounding of reporters at the sidelines had worn her out and she ended up taking a taxi home early. The second time was the premiere of a movie with an actor Levi was acquainted with; Levi had her avoid the carpet entirely and the two had slipped in late after most of the other guests arrived. She has a feeling that he would have had her slip in through the back this time too, but she dislikes being coddled. “Don’t worry about whether or not these things make me uncomfortable. Appearing as your wife … isn’t it part of the contract?”

He looks over at her for a moment before returning his gaze ahead. “If it makes you uncomfortable, you don’t have to do it. It doesn’t matter if it’s in the contract,” he tells her. As they walk up the steps, he carefully lifts her train so that it doesn’t drag across the stairs.

She thinks that’s a strange thing for him to say. For a moment, Petra thinks he’s being kind, which she finds uncharacteristic of him. She’s about to open her mouth and tell him that he should worry about other things, but a sudden commotion behind them distracts her.

Someone screams behind the velvet rope, and Petra and Levi turn to look. It’s difficult to make out what’s happening because of the crowd, but the shrieks grow louder and people begin to fall. Confused, Petra purses her lips as she tries to see what the uproar is about. Levi, too, stands beside her, his eyes narrowed as he watches people shoving each other as if running away from something. Only when Petra sees a man emerge from the crowd, a crazed look in his eye and a knife gleaming in his hand, that she finally realizes the cause for alarm.

“Levi,” she says, her eyes wide with fear. Her hands flail about as she reaches for her husband. “That man-!”

The man stumbles across the velvet rope, knocking it down and looking around madly. His eyes glaze over the guests that line the carpet while the knife still gleams threateningly in his hand. Nobody dares to stop him, or perhaps they’re too shocked at his appearance - the tangled mass of hair atop his head that hasn’t been washed or brushed in days, the disheveled clothing hanging from his thin frame, and the sunken face. He looks around hungrily, searching, and his gaze finally stops on Levi.

“Levi,” Petra whispers. Her fingers reach for him, but she can’t hold onto him.

The man has a wicked snarl on his face. “You bastard!” he yells, his voice loud enough to be heard by the panicked screaming of everyone around them. He waves the knife around, slashing it through the air. “This is all your fault!” The man stumbles towards Levi, his knife pointed straight at him. He breaks into a run and all Petra can hear is the sound of herself shrieking as the man comes towards them.

What happens next is a blur to her. She remembers trying to pull Levi back, only to be shoved aside so that she was out of the man’s line of sight. With one hand, Levi had protected her. With the other, he had reached out, perhaps in an attempt to grab the knife from the man’s grasp. She remembers another scream, but she can’t recall if it was her own. All she remembers is stumbling backward and staring at a stain of bright red that was so much more vibrant than the crimson carpet. There was more screaming and shouting and the sound of others rushing forward to help pull the man away from Levi. Petra recalls her vision blurring and her head spinning. As her knees began to buckle, she reached out to hold onto something, although she doesn’t know what. When she finally fell, she remembers thinking that it didn’t hurt when she hit the floor.

The next time Petra opens her eyes, she’s sitting in the hospital bed. Her uncomfortable evening gown had been exchanged for an equally uncomfortable hospital gown, and her hair had been let out of its bun. When she looks beside her, she sees Levi dozing off as he sits in a stiff chair meant for hospital guests. The view from her bedroom window tells her that it’s late now - the sun had probably set hours ago. It makes her wonder how long Levi had been sitting beside her and why.

She tries to sit up, only to stop when she realizes that someone’s holding her hand. When she looks down, she sees Levi’s bandaged hand wrapped around hers. The sight of the bandages fills her with guilt. She stares at his wounded hand for a moment before trying to slip her hand out from under his, but the small movement has already awakened him.

“Are you okay?” he mumbles sleepily before Petra even has the chance to sit up. He’s still half asleep, his eyes barely open.

“I … What happened?” she asks, trying to remember what had transpired earlier that night. There was the charity dinner tonight, and she had just arrived. And there was that man, his knife swinging madly around him. She remembers blood on the floor. She looks again at Levi’s bandaged hand and grabs at it suddenly before looking back up at him, examining the rest of him to see if there were any other wounds. “Your hand! He cut you! Is there anywhere else…?”

Levi pulls his hand away from hers. “I’m fine. You’re the one in the hospital. You fainted.” He pauses before asking again, “Are you okay?”

“What about the man?” Petra asks, deliberately ignoring his question.

“He’s in police custody. A disgruntled man who was recently released from his job at Ackerman Electrics. His attack was aimed at me,” Levi replies. He doesn’t seem very shaken by the experience, but it may be because his attention is focused elsewhere. Once more, he asks Petra, “Are you okay?”

She doesn’t answer, instead fiddling with the wedding band on her ring finger as her bottom lip trembles and her eyes are fixed on the bandage wrapped around Levi’s hand. After a moment, she says, “You pushed me out of the way, didn’t you?” When he doesn’t reply, she says bitterly, “You didn’t have to do that. Any of it. Pushing me out of the way, taking me to the hospital, staying here overnight with me - none of this is in the contract.”

There’s a flash of what looks like anger across his face for just one second. Just as quickly, it vanishes. “Isn’t this what I should do?” he asks. “What else should I have done?”

“It’s reckless to risk your life for someone over a piece of paper,” Petra tells him. She should feel grateful to him, but his recklessness only makes her feel even more indebted to him and she has nothing with which to pay him back. “Is it because you have an image to uphold?”

“Because I’m your husband,” he replies. The words are similar to the ones she had uttered earlier that night, but somehow they sound so different leaving his lips.

Looking at him is too difficult, so Petra turns her gaze towards the window. If she looks closely, she can see their reflections on the window pane. The way that Levi is sitting is strange to her, the way he’s leaning forward with his face turned toward her. The expression on his face is even stranger - a mixture of hurt, sadness, and concern. Why would he wear such an expression on his face? He doesn’t need to be so concerned about her. He could just make up a story to the press about how she’s recovering and then check up on her in the morning. There’s no reason for him to go this far. It’s as if he really cares about her, but she knows that’s impossible.

She turns back to him, her eyes settling back on his bandaged hand. “Is it going to leave a scar?”

“It might. It was only a few stitches,” he says. “Are you worried it will scar?”

Stitches. It will leave a scar. And just earlier she had been thinking that none of them would have to leave this marriage unscathed. Would it have been better if she had gotten the scar instead?

“It’s just that it was bleeding a lot,” she tells him.

“It’s fine.” He tucks his hand into his pocket so that it’s no longer in her sight. “You should go to sleep. You need a lot of rest.”

“I’m not tired,” she says, fighting off the drowsiness that is slowly overtaking her. Petra tries to sit up in her hospital bed, but her pillows are so satisfyingly soft. “What about you? Don’t you have work tomorrow?”

“I don’t need a lot of sleep.” He reaches out to her with his left hand this time, holding hers and rubbing soft circles against her skin. “Don’t worry about me. It’s not in the contract. Just go to sleep.”

She wants to argue with him, but she’s too tired. She yawns instead, not bothering to stifle it with her hand. For a moment, she wonders if Levi does truly care for her, but she waves the thought away. She’s mistaking the concern in his eyes for something else, and her drowsiness is making her imagine the tenderness of his touch. He’s only concerned about his business and how he’ll manage the publishing house if she’s ill. He shouldn’t worry about that anymore, though, Petra thinks as she lowers herself back into bed, feeling the plush pillows behind her head. She’ll get a good night’s rest and get discharged in the morning, returning to work just as he wishes. Everything will be back to normal.

Petra drifts off to sleep, oblivious to the seed of love that had been planted between them that night.

[mfackenthal]

The MFackenthal Show with Special Guest @choicesarehard

banner created by the amazing @choicesarehard

Disclaimer:  This interview was conducted on July 1, 2019. 

Megs: Welcome, welcome everyone to my 10th show!  I am so blessed that this show has done so well and the network has given me a full 23 episode slot.  I have to tell you - the remaining 13 slots are currently filled!  Which just means that my producers are working on a season 2.  If you want to be on the show - please let me know.  And if you think someone else should be on the show - let me know that too. In fact, today’s show couldn’t have happened without the help of @leelee10898.  

Tonight, I have a wonderful special guest with me tonight, everyone please give a round of applause to @choicesarehard!

Ellie:  stays seated next to Megs on the couch, gives a little smile and waves to the audience. 

Megs:  Ellie, I am so excited to have you on the show tonight.  When we were chatting backstage, I promised I would start today’s show with a story - something to help you forget that my amazing audience is staring at you.  Hmmm .. I’m trying to think of an embarrassing one … let’s see ... I’ve been taught to always sing loud and proud … but that means people often catch me not quite knowing the words to the song I’m singing.  That’s not terribly embarrassing though … Oh!  I understand that you like to travel … I have to be really careful that I don’t sing when I’m on a plane.  It’s harder for me than it sounds.  Ooooh oooh oh - idea forming right now!  We should have plane karaoke.  I really think flights could be more fun if we had a little more to drink and a few more songs to sing together.  Plus I never forget the words when I’m singing karaoke - the words are always right there on the screen.  

Ellie: laughs.  You would certainly have a captive audience.  

Megs:  Exactly!  Okay, your turn.  Tell me a travel story. 

Ellie: Hmmm ... well, Megs, you see, I’m a Texan, and we tend to be really friendly people. Sometimes, a little too friendly. On a flight home from London recently, a British man in front of us was struggling to fill out his immigration form. He asked the flight attendant “What if I don’t know where I’m staying?” This Texas woman next to me, who does not know this man at all, immediately pipes up, “Sugar, don’t give it another thought, you’ll stay with us. We have a spare room.” And the British man looks absolutely terrified, and squeaks “I meant I don't know the address!” It was the most perfect culture clash I’ve ever seen, and I loved every second of it. 

Megs:  Oh, that is a great story.  Gotta love Texans.  

Ellie:  Agreed!

Megs:  Okay, so Ellie, tell me, when did you join the fandom and what brought you here? 

Ellie:  I joined Tumblr in January, after reading every single Damien x MC story on the Choices Fan Fiction Archive. No, seriously, like, all of them. I was desperately Googling for more content, and discovered all the amazing creators on here. I made an account that night!

Now, as I can be pretty shy, I didn’t make a single post or even comment on stories my first month on Tumblr. I probably would have stayed a wallflower if @walkerismychoice hadn’t written a story so amazing I had to say something. So I sent her a DM and panicked until she responded. Turns out I had nothing to worry about. Maggie took me under her wing, showed me how to tag and post, sent me my first Ask, and even encouraged me to write my first drabble! Friends like her and what really brought me away from the metaphorical wall and onto the fandom dance-floor.

Megs:  And we’re so glad you are here!  Megs turns to the audience.  As there may be a few of you here who don’t know Ellie very well, let me tell you - she is multi-talented. Not only does she write, but she also creates gorgeous edits.  Seriously, did you see that banner of us when you first turned on the show?  That was all Ellie!  She’s amazing. 

Ellie:  Megs - stop, you’re making me blush!

Megs:  Nope, won’t stop.  Seriously Ellie, you should charge a commission fee! I would have paid for my icon and banners!!! *wink* Ellie:  Ha! You are the sweetest, and I actually get that a lot. But edits are my little way of saying thank you to the fandom for being so kind to the new kid! 

Megs:  Awh, you’re not so new anymore, friend!  So tell us a little about your work.  What’s your favorite work that you’ve written?  

Ellie:  Oh goodness, I can be pretty critical of my own work, but I’m trying to shake that habit.  And I am definitely proud of His Hands. Sometimes the things we hate about ourselves are the things that draw others to us, and it was fun to show both those perspectives in one piece.

Megs:  Oh, that is so beautiful!  Can you tell me more about your edits? 

Ellie:  The edits started as a way to illustrate one of my Outfit Drabbles — these kind of insane little stories I write about the worst outfits in the game. But I started doing edits seriously about two months ago! Clearly, it has kind of spiraled out of control since then, and I’m slapping wrinkles and tattoos and prison uniforms on everyone. I’ve also started making Choices Aesthetics recently. I love trying to capture the feeling and mood of a book or character in just six panels. My Wishful Thinking Emu board is probably my favorite thing I’ve ever made. 

Megs:  Everyone should check those out.  That Wishful Thinking board is amazing!  So, do you prefer writing or the edits? 

Ellie: Oh Megs! Don’t make me choose! Oh goodness, let me think. Making an edit is definitely more fun than writing. I’m giggling almost the entire time I’m creating one. And it’s a much, much faster process. But I pour so much of myself into my stories, and I really love getting to share them with other fans. And I think my stories mean more to me on a personal level. So uh...both? Can I say both? 

Megs:  Of course! I mean, I should probably share something really fast ... if ever I am playing a game - I will look for a way to cheat.  So in either/or questions - I highly respect an answer of both.  

Ellie:  That does explain so much about you, Megs. 

Megs:  Laughs.  Okay, well, getting back to you sharing your work with this fandom.  What do you love about this fandom?  Is there anything you’re less than happy with? 

Ellie: I love how welcoming the fandom is to new writers and artists. My first drabble was literally 77 words… and I had a whopping 13 followers. It should have been totally lost in the noise. But wonderful people like @bobasheebaby @sinclaire-made-me-sin and @ritachacha were so supportive; it made me feel brave enough to write a second story, and a third, and…well, here we are!

And listen, I know no online experience is going to be perfect, but if I don’t like a given topic or series I just filter it from my dashboard, or unfollow the user.  Beyond that, I just try to surround myself with people who are kind. 

Megs:  Do you have any advice for other people in the fandom?  Especially other fanfic writers? 

Ellie: I’m an incredibly slow writer. Seriously, trees grow to maturity while I finish a single drabble. And it can be intimidating to see a flurry of new content appear as I’m writing. But I’ve had to teach myself not to worry about what stories have already been told or are being told as I write. Our voices will always be unique, so even if the trope or setting is familiar, our work will be something that only we could have created.

Megs:  Well … I can’t say much about anyone’s speed of writing.  I’m lucky if I get something out every other week.   Those are truly beautiful words about uniqueness.  Thank you, Ellie!  What’s your writing process? 

Ellie: Simple - I write three words. Then I panic. Erase two of them. Panic some more. I’m kidding…mostly. In all seriousness, most of my writing wouldn’t exist without @brightpinkpeppercorn. We’re both night owls, and tend to brainstorm ideas long past midnight. Telling a story’s concept to a friend helps me develop the idea without the pressure of formatting or picking the perfect words — especially when that friend has an incredible sense of narrative and how to move a story forward. I really do think writing takes a community sometimes, and I’m so lucky to have one on Tumblr. 

Megs:  I love hearing about the community really coming together.  And speaking of community and coming together … fangirl with me about Choices for a little while.  Have you read all the books, what’s your favorite book, favorite One True Pairing (OTP), etc? 

Ellie:  Well, Megs, don’t tell anyone but … I actually haven’t played three of the biggest series — The Crown and the Flame, Endless Summer, and It Lives Beneath. I really want to, but there’s so much amazing new content each week, how’s a girl supposed to find the time?  

Megs:  I don’t know!  I often whine about not being paid to read all the fanfiction out there.  I’m behind right now on both canon and so much fanfiction ... and that is so weird for me.  Oh, but I saw that you’ve decided to read Veil of Secrets next.  Everyone, check out this post on how you can read or reread it with Ellie, if you want! 

Ellie:  Awh, thanks Megs.  Yeah - everyone should read it with me.  As for a favorite choices book … Saying this in an interview makes it real, doesn’t it?  gets up and starts to pace in front of Megs  Oh gosh, oh gosh … sits back down and takes Megs hands … I’m so sorry Damien, but...it’s Ride or Die. Releases Megs hands and faces the audience.  Listen, this wasn’t supposed to happen. Ride or Die was supposed to be a fluffy little story I’d play for diamonds and laugh at. But the narrative has so much more depth and nuance than I’d expected, and your decisions have real consequences. And did I mention the three incredible Love Interests?

Megs:  You actually didn’t no. 

Ellie:  Oh - shush you!  Laughs.  Well, let me get back to my OTP -  It will always be Damien and Kai from Perfect Match. Damien is a man who loves every part of you — your bad jokes, your terrible cooking — and has loved you for years. Besides, his banter is hysterical, and his ability in bed is literally legendary on Tumblr. I mean, come on. It’s a no brainer.

Megs: I do miss Damien!  Sigh  And, on that note, we are out of time.  Thank you, Ellie, for joining me on today’s show.  It was a pleasure to have you on the show.  

Ellie:  Wait, wait - Megs.  Before you go, I have one thing I have to give you. 

This is an edit of us on today’s show.  Thank you for having me and for helping me through my shyness.  

Megs:  It is gorgeous, Ellie!  Thank you soooooo much!  I love it!

Ellie:  You’re so very welcome. 

Megs and Ellie hug then turn to the audience and wave.  

Megs:  Have a great weekend, everyone!

~~~~~

And now for the tags.  If you want to be added to the tag list for these or removed, please let me know!

@hopefulmoonobject @queen-among-writers, @hopelessromantic1352, @lilyofchoices, @msjpuddleduck, @theroyalweisme, @lady-kato

[janiedean]

gwenspiration self-recs

I was tagged by @jaimebrienneonline​ for this thank you!

sooo, the challenge was:

Taking the idea from the amazing Gwendoline Christie, we should be promoting ourselves and not acting like our creative endeavors are worthless. In that vein, I challenge everyone to blog their favorite of their own works, art, fic, meta, manip, doll story, whatever it may be.

aaand okay so I’m usually really bad at self-reccing so I’ll just go ahead and do a top five fics and a few meta links - this is not necessarily my most read stuff or whatever but if I have to choose in between my own children I will ;) also sticking to asoiaf/jb-centric stuff or it turns into a problem lmao [also I’m not putting some flowers bloom dead on this because I don’t wanna rec stuff I haven’t finished]

in the darkness on the edge of town: (jb, hooker au, explicit content) okay I don’t even know how to put this without sounding ridiculous but I honestly think it’s some of the best writing I put out period and I ended up putting an amount of blood sweat and tears I hadn’t anticipated into it but I loved doing it overall (because I also went and put in it everything I like writing about ngl and yes I have a thing for hooker au and I apparently succeeded in making it feel like a springsteen song so I’m proud of myself thank you) and I’m really happy with how it turned out. also, I gave myself confirmation that if springsteen’s involved my productivity arises.

I'm not a pretty girl, that's not what I do: (jb, brienne-centric with focus on her issues with her looks and femininity) long story short, I didn’t say it in the a/n when I posted this for the spitefic series because I wanted to check the reactions to it but now that it’s been months I can say it: this is the most personal thing I’ve ever put to fic in my entire life including specifically recycling my own childhood experiences into brienne’s and tackling directly 80% of the issues me and her have in common. and I think it came out pretty damn good and I also was flattered with the response I got to it because a lot of people commented about how relatable those issues were and just, this damned fic means a lot to me so have it ;)

conventions and inconveniences of the stage series (theon/robb, jaime/brienne, jonc/brynden tully for now, opera singers au series): okay this is a series so I’m cheating BUT I’m just really attached to all of the fics in it because a) I love opera and I was delighted that people actually read them and liked it regardless of the obscure subjects, b) they gave me the chance to branch out a lot, c) for now I had fics for two ships I dearly love (throbb and jb) and that have meant a lot to me in this fandom AND then the crackship I cultivated with a lot of love and care to which I gave one of my favorite operas in existence and I loved writing each single one of these fics and I think I’ve done a pretty good job with them and sorry but I picked the perfect operas for all of them and I’m dying on that hill. don carlo is 100% the throbb opera and fidelio is 10000% the jb opera you won’t take that from me. ;)

all knights are gallant and all maids are beautiful (jb, side-jc, genderbend): admittedly I wrote this thing out of spite because I hate that people refuse to see that jc is, in fact, a darned abusive dynamic but they wouldn’t say that if the genders were reversed so I went and genderbent all three of them just to prove the damned point of it and other than being very satisfied at how it turned out it was a fairly cathartic exercise to write it because that issue is really sitting badly on my stomach and has been for ages. so yeah I’ll put this one on the list also because ngl I liked writing male!brienne way more than I thought I would and overall I did have a pretty interesting time figuring out how to keep them IC while switching genders and it was in general a very good writing exercise for a lot of things and I think it came out pretty well.

and give all the love that you have in your soul (jb, jonc/omc, jonc/rhaegar, time travel): I thought about reccing something less widely read for the last spot but fuck it I’m going to put this one fic for a lot of reasons as in: a) I actually brewed on it for two years before writing it is2g it was a labor of love, b) I’m extremely proud of myself for having written time travel without losing my shit over the technicalities (I hate writing time travel) and the planning and the likes and I also think it didn’t have plot holes so score for me, c) this is where I admit that I 100% purposefully put jon connington as co-protagonist in here because I love him and I don’t think he gets enough fandom exposure and while I write him more than about anyone else I think until this fic I hadn’t managed to find a large audience for fic where he was a lead, so yes I totally did it because I knew a fic with a jb main pairing would mean more exposure and I was delighted to see that at the end of it people cared about his half of the storyline as much as they cared about the jb half of it. also I think brienne and jonc would be absolutely good potential friends if they met so I really was excited to explore that dynamic and yeah tldr this damned thing was a bitch to write but I loved doing it and I loved the feedback it had so that’s going to be this one.

there, that’s the fic. as far as the meta goes, a lot more quickly (of the meta I have on ao3 because I’m still on dash only) :

Brienne of Tarth and her importance as a literary character & Brienne and Jaime’s relationship: a textual analysis of their journey: I put together these two darned novels of analysis in a single piece that I gave to gwendoline christie at a con once because I felt like I should go there with something that would make clear how much brienne means to me as a character and then I threw in the jb stuff as well because I could. the first piece isn’t as in-depth but again as brienne is the only character I related to as much as I do for those reasons I really felt strongly about that meta subject. the second piece is basically me going through 90% of the relevant moments of jb history in the books and analyzing the shit out of it and not to brag but I like to think it was pretty good text analysis so here you go.

Why a Jaime/Brienne Endgame in the Books Makes More Sense Than One Might Think, Based on Previous Works of GRRM's: one of the things that irks me more about nihilistic/fatalistic readings of these two/of asoiaf is that most people who write them and dismiss jb as not important or not important enough to have overall plot relevance have not actually read grrm’s other books. since I happen to have read most of them and to have seen that he has patterns that are not nihilistic at all, I took the liberty to rant about it.

An Analysis of Jaime's Dream in ASOS: this was when I dissected jaime’s asos dream line by line and while I don’t think it’s particularly groundbreaking information it’s pretty much encompassing 90% of the arguments I use while theorizing about these two/jaime’s issues specifically and I think I worded it well enough, so here we go, that’s the third.

... wow, selling yourself is hard. thanks jbo for the tag!!

aaand as I should tag other people, idk who’s done it already buut I’m gonna tag also not-jb peeps and go for @lordhellebore, @trulilyy @randomingoftherandomness and @lodessa if they want to :)

[lecrit]

 Okay, I have some shit to say and it's gonna be really long, I'm warning you. I think it's about time for me to be real about some stuff, and the consequences anon hate can have because I'm fucking done, and even more tired.

Last year around October, I stumbled upon a conversation on Twitter of writers  from the fandom who were basically slaughtering my writing, and BLST in particular. It was a bit hard for me to take in, because even though I have most definitely read fics I didn't enjoy, I would never think about publicly trashing them as if I'm the one who makes the rules about what's good or not. Anyway, it was the first blow, especially because BLST is the most personal thing I've ever written and it was hard af, but I moved on.

In December, I posted a fic that has since then been deleted. Luke's character had a really minor role in it (and that mistake was entirely on me), and this is where things started to truly go downhill. I received two tumblr asks telling me that 'blablahblah is talking shit about you'. I have some pretty serious anxiety problems, and there is absolutely no way for me not to go check it out when someone tells me I'm being publicly trashed. So I did, and it was a mistake.

There was a lot of hate going on, although I think what hurt the most was seeing some of my readers, who had sent me supportive messages before, going "oh, you opened my eyes on what a terrible person she is, I won't read her stuff anymore." That, in itself, is fine. I can't please everyone and there are people who don't like my writing, and people who think I don't include Luke enough, and people who think Magnus was treated horribly in BLST. Okay, that I can hear. This particular tumblr was fairly popular, though, and I received a lot of anon hate on Tumblr and on Curious Cat, which is why I ended up switching off the anon option on the former and deleting completely the latter. I don't allow anonymous comments on my fanfictions since then either, and some of them are now private. For info, it came to a point where people were sending hate about me to Jackie, who is as many of you know one of my best friends, to change her opinion of me (joke's on you, she actually knows me better than anonymous people from curious cat, mind-blowing I know).

Those are technical consequences, and although I would love to be able to forgo them, it still annoys me sometimes that I have shut down the people who are supportive but too shy to message me because of this.

The personal consequences are something else entirely. First and foremost, my anxiety skyrocketted. For a while, I was completely paranoid and kept finding more inventive ways to find if people were talking shit about me publicly. When you dig far enough, you end up finding something. So I did, and then I digged deeper. I was also convinced most of the writers in the fandom hated me. Secondly, I experienced the worst kind of writer's block, not the one where you sit down and stare at a blank page without anything coming, but the one where you don't write because you second guess everything to the point where you convince yourself you can't write anymore. Third, my writing suffered from this in various ways. When I write, there's a voice in the back of my head, warning me of the potential consequences, and the hate I could get for it. I have only lately started to trust myself again when it comes to my own writing, and that is still a work in progress. And when I do feel good about my writing, or when I hit a milestone in my ao3 statistics, I don't share it either. I can't post anything without thinking of the potential hate that could follow. Finally, I'll let you imagine the consequences it had on my mental health, I don't want to go into details.

I'm not telling you this as a sob story. I haven't talked about it before because I didn't want to play the victim, because the reproaches addressed to me where valid in their concern but not in the form they took. When I see the proportions it has taken, for me and many other writers in this fandom, I don't want to keep quiet. Anonymous hate has consequences beyond the comfort of your own screen. Your words have consequences equally proportionate to their violence. You don't know who is on the other side, what struggles they are going through and what intention they had when you labelled them 'cancelled' and 'unredeemable'. You can be critical without being rude or offensive. If you wouldn't say what you're sending anonymously to someone's face, that probably means you shouldn't send it at all. Just like our writing can have consequences, your actions can too. Stop treating writers like a scape goat to your overall frustrations with fandom. Stop trying to pitch us against each other over kudos and stats. Stop expecting us to be role models: we're not. We're not a beacon of moral righteousness for the fandom to follow. We can write what we want, and if you don't like it, that's fine. If you want to trash us privately, that's fine too. But don't use your opinion as an excuse to publicly "expose" us and then pretend you didn't know it could have consequences.

I'm tired of it, and I'm sure this won't change anything, but I'm even more tired of keeping my mouth shut because of fear. My dad is a very wise man and he always says: Fear doesn't suppress danger.