#and not that i don't think they meant it when they said rpf is fine

[sidequestsinlife]

so it just occurred to me that even if they do realize that the rpf tourney wasn't just one poll, the other ships they were up against were all, iirc, living people who are not and never have been in any sort of public relationship (and let's be real, dnp are in a public relationship even if we all play along with their bit and pretend otherwise lmao). some of them are publicly straight men being shipped with other publicly straight men so speculation about them is also speculation about their sexuality. (jesus and judas are obviously long-dead if they were ever real and the actual sexual orientation of these long-dead possibly-real people does not matter.)

and after feeling at some point like some of this was legitimately invasive to their personal lives, we've chilled, they've chilled, it's all cool now with them, but they also probably still don't want to really contribute to public speculation about anyone else, not knowing how they might feel about it. and after coming to that conclusion it would actually surprise me a bit if they ever do acknowledge the earlier rounds, even if they continue to brag about winning until the end of time (which let's be real they probably will).

[bad268]

If You Only Knew

Aftermath Affair Pt. 3

(Ex! Lando Norris X Reader + Oscar Pisatri X Reader)

Fandom: RPF/Formula 1

Requested: Nope, happy 5 years!

Warnings: Not saying Lando cheated (!! It's fiction !!), depressing thoughts, passive suicidal remarks, listen to the song first and decide if you can handle it. HEAVILY based on the song by Alexander Stewart

POV: Second Person (You/your/They/them)

W.C. 1229

Chapter Summary: The direct aftermath after coming to terms with the affair.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

<-Part 2

~~(^Both from Pinterest)

You didn’t want to believe it. How could your sweet, caring, amazing boyfriend cheat on you? It was not in the cards for you. You talked about getting married. You talked about having kids. How could he fuck it all up?

How could Ava? It does take two to tango, and you remembered meeting her clearly. You had gone to the newest Quadrant merch photoshoot, and Ria introduced you as Lando’s future spouse to Ava. Looking back, you remember the sneer on her face, and when you asked, she said it was a strong smell or something that irritated her. God, you should have said something!

You had spent the last week thinking everything over, and it seemed just as bad as the first day. Thankfully, Lando had to go to Woking after the last race, so he hasn’t come home yet. Then, he was going to visit his family and Max before coming back to the apartment for the last bit of the summer break. 

Your head was spinning, and the room was spinning. It was a bad idea, looking back, but alcohol was the only thing numbing the pain at this point. It’s been hard trying to move on. You accepted that your relationship was over, but that’s seven years you grew with Lando by your side. 

Now, suddenly, you didn’t know who you were. You were completely lost. 

Some part of you felt guilty. Maybe you did something to make him cheat in the first place. Maybe he wasn’t happy with your sex life, and that’s why he went to Ava. 

You tried to see the good in it, but it was too hard. You kept all of this pain inside you because you didn't want to burden anyone. Your family would say they told you so. They never supported your relationship with Lando. Most of your friends were also friends of Lando, and they would side with him. Your other friends would probably laugh in your face.

You were all alone to face this. 

You wanted to tell your subscribers. They started to notice your mood drop, and they were getting concerned. You wanted to yell from the rooftops that Lando Norris is a cheater, but you couldn’t. That’s defamation because you don't have solid evidence. You wanted to tell anyone who would listen, but you didn't want to beg for attention.

You just wanted to be heard. You wanted to be seen. You wanted to do anything. 

You wanted to tell Oscar, but you didn't want him to worry. He would probably drop everything to get you out of the apartment, but he’s with Lando in Woking. The last thing you needed was Lando peaking at Oscar’s phone and seeing your name. So you pretend to be fine.

Until it all came crashing down with an incoming phone call. 

Oscar Piastri

You debated answering it. You were still on the verge of blacking out from how much alcohol you drank. You could barely move, so you let the phone ring out.

Moments later, another call came through.

Oscar Piastri

Again, you let it ring out as your vision started fading in the corners. If this was your end, you were ready for it. You weren’t sure how you were meant to live after this. You just felt so lost. Your thoughts were once again interrupted by another call. 

Oscar Piastri

You finally found the strength to turn your head to look at the notifications. 24 missed calls from Oscar and 13 texts, ranging from asking if you were okay to him asking if he needs to show up. After the last call rang out, making it 25 missed calls, a text came through.

“I’m coming over, and I know where the spare key is.”

The last thing you wanted was to have Oscar see you in this state. You struggled to grab your phone and clumsily hit the notification for the missed call. It immediately redialed Oscar’s number. It didn’t take more than two rings for him to answer.

“Are you okay? Why didn’t you answer?” He rushed out. You could tell he was in a car by the background noise, but you didn't actually listen to what he was saying. You couldn’t form words and you felt like you were struggling to breathe as you let out a choked sob. There were no tears at this point, but it still felt as draining. Oscar decided to change up his approach, “Hey, tell me what’s going on.”

“If you only knew,” You trailed off, your voice quiet and hoarse as you chuckled at your situation. “If you only knew what my mind is telling me I should do.”

“Are you safe? Where are you?” He pushed for your answer.

“I’m drunk and all alone in my room,” You answered weakly, spacing out and staring at the ceiling. You can vaguely hear Oscar ask something, but you’re too focused on nothing. “I’m too sad to cry, my brain is putting me through some shit, and I don’t know anything anymore. I’m sorry, but you said to text you if I need you. Well, I need you.”

“I’m almost there, just breathe for me please,” He tried to drive faster but the cars on the road were making it impossible.

“If you only knew,” You were hyperventilating but there was no stopping the word waterfall once it started. “I’m constantly overwhelmed. I wish I was someone else. I wish I had called for help sooner. I am falling and I can’t stop. I don’t know what I should be doing. I don't know who I am. I wanna get better, Oscar, I do, but I don’t know where I’m going. I want you to know, I admit it, I can’t do this on my own, Oscar. This is my plea for help. Please, I need you.”

You were finally able to let all of the feelings out. It felt good being able to cry for once. Oscar just had to listen in agony that he wasn’t there to help you at that moment. He had just pulled into the apartment lot and found a parking spot before running into the building to get let up to your apartment floor. 

You were still breathing heavily and unevenly when Oscar came running straight into your room, wrapping his arms around your shaking form. He was grounding you, and helping coax your breathing back to a normal pace. However, you still had something to get off your chest.

“Oscar, take me out of this hell,” You cried as you looked up at him and held his face in your hands. “I need you to help me out of here. I can't keep living like this. I don’t care how, but I need to get out of this hell. If you don’t, I will. I can’t do this anymore, Oscar, please.” You trailed off before leaning your head against his chest as all of your anger finally dissolved. 

“I’ll take you anywhere you wanna go,” He whispered as he held all of your weight against him. He felt so bad that he was (in a way) the cause of your pain, but he couldn’t stand seeing you live blissfully unaware of the deception Lando was causing you. He vowed that night to help you in any and every way possible.

~~~ Part 4 ->

~~

Tags- @barcelonaloverf1life

~~~~~

© BAD268 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[simplydnp]

hey char! what do you think phil meant when he said "as long as you're not being too weird" when he talked about rpf and being "shipped with another youtuber" ?

it seems like his take on rpf is that if people specifically say don't, then don't (which, considering what he graciously went through for years as a public figure, i can understand the viewpoint), but otherwise, it's pretty much fine, with a few caveats.

now he doesn't specifically say, but based off our history with dnp, the line would be:

insisting/assuming fic is real

shoving fic in their/their families' faces

it's hard to say his actual opinion on some of the very graphic/disturbing crackfic that happened in our community, cause both he and dan reference specific ones when making jokes. any concrete thoughts on that would be pure speculation on my part.

beyond that, i think there's not a lot that would phase him. he truly has seen it all throughout the years. if you're a writer, i hope you're not too stressed. i don't think any of our writers are doing anything even close to 'over the line'. dnp have been good at respecting our writing space and we've generally been good about respecting them back (especially these last many years i wouldnt say theres been anything 'bad')

this is just my take on it!

[icallhimjoey]

To Have And To Scold

♥ ♥  Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your best friends are getting married, and who else can they ask to be their best man and maid of honour but you and Joe? It's just that... you don't really get along all that well, do you? At least, that's what you think.

CW / disclaimer: sort of enemies to sort of lovers (very vague, im sorry, but you'll see), language, drinking, rpf, fem!reader

Author’s note: I know this trope is overdone, but, I wanted to do it a little... idk, different, I suppose. I've never written Joe like this either, so we'll see how this is going to go. This is part one (of five, you know me) and I hope you enjoy!

Wordcount: 2.7K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five - part six - part seven - part eight - part nine - part ten - epilogue

Oh no.

Joe was going to royally fuck everything up. There was no question about it. You were one hundred per cent absolutely convinced that Joe was going to do a bad job. So, so bad. The flat out worst, actually.

Joe hadn’t the faintest idea of where to begin, of how to go about it, of what it all entailed.

It made you feel a little superior, which was nice. This felt like a competition you were going to win, even though you understood none of this was meant to be competitive. In fact, it would actually be considered to be bad taste and maybe a little tacky to even pretend like it was a fight for you to win, but you couldn’t help it.

“Are you sure, Poppy... I don’t want to, like, but... are you sure? Joe?”

Poppy laughed, said, “He’ll do fine,” and Mark followed up by slapping a firm palm to his shoulder, saying, “He’ll figure it out, just like you will,”

“Oh no need to worry about me, I got this,” and you couldn’t help but look at Joe, sharp and focussed. Almost challenging, in a way, but you meant it jokingly. Hoped that maybe Joe would soften a little because he never really seemed to let his guard down. Not around you, anyway.

But Joe just shrugged, kept his face entirely neutral, and your jokes fell flat which immediately made everyone feel awkwardly tense.

It wasn’t a huge secret that you and Joe didn’t really get along all that great, but Jesus, could this man be any stiffer in this moment of joy? This evening of good news and important questions and celebrations? The inner peacekeeper within you couldn’t stand it. You just wanted everyone to get along and be on the same page, but the distance Joe somehow seemed to really force in between you kind of ruined all of that every single time that you’d all hang out together.

When you’d be in larger companies, it’d be easy. You could stay at opposite ends of the room and sort of ignore each other. You’d say hi, you’d be cordial and polite, but you just... weren’t each other’s people. Which made no sense. Mark was your best friend and his fiancé Poppy had naturally become such a good friend of yours too, so why was her best friend this... big old awkward weirdo?

What a stupid way to end the evening, and one that started so blissfully pleasant. When you’d walked into Mark and Poppy’s place around dinner time, you could’ve never predicted the outcome of it all. Though, in hindsight, you didn’t know why you hadn’t expected it, because it made total sense. It really did. Mark and Poppy were going to tell their families about this, and you knew they wouldn’t ask any questions because, this obviously was inevitably going to be the way it was going to go.

“Won’t Poppy be joining us?” you let your coat slide from your shoulders before you hung it over the back of a dining chair as you looked around the place. The table was set for two, not three.

“Pop’s taken Joe out for a meal,” Mark said from the kitchen, and you felt a little guilty at the little marble of relief that reared its little head up. You loved Poppy, honestly you did. She was the perfect girl for Mark, they were the perfect couple. Two peas in a pod. Fucking gorgeous and so, so sweet... but you were too alike in all the wrong ways. Both unbelievably stubborn and potentially hot-headed in the wrong moments, so sometimes you’d butt heads with each other. You held strong opinions and there would be times where you’d find yourselves at the exact opposite ends of a spectrum, willing to die in the battle of trying to convince the other that you had it at the right end.

There had been many nights where you would practically be screaming over the kitchen table about something so fantastically meaningless with Mark in between you, silently eating his meal, not even really paying attention to what either of you were going on about.

Mark sort of loved it. Loved you. But really loved Poppy. Said he found the version of you that wanted to sleep with him which he claimed was all he’d ever wanted. That always made you cringe; made you tell him to fuck off and stop pretending that you weren’t practically siblings at this point.

Having dinner with just Mark at their place wasn’t what you’d expected when Mark had invited you ‘round, but it was so welcome.

Whenever it was you and Mark by yourselves, you’d start the evening like the adults you were, would complain about work, talk about all sorts of civilized things, have a glass or sensible slightly more expensive wine, and ask how each other’s parents were doing.

But by the end of the night, you’d feel like you were 17 at a house party where the one 18-year-old brought a bunch of shitty piss-coloured liquor, room temp cider in plastic 2 litre bottles and blue WKD that would leave everyone’s mouth stained. There’d be an urge to fucking trash the place like the place didn’t actually belong to either one of you, and you’d rummage through kitchen cabinets to make stupid meals at midnight after whatever vegan bullshit Mark cooked up for dinner that hadn’t filled you properly. Suddenly, Mark would forget he hadn’t eaten meat in years and go for a kebab with you.

You loved those nights.

Poppy hated those nights, because that was the Mark she didn’t know or understand. She’d find you both drunk of your tits, flinging Wii remotes dangerously close to expensive furniture pieces (where the fuck did you even find a Wii, Mark?!) grunting like you were the Williams sisters playing Wembley.

Whenever Poppy would try to tell Mark off for sort of letting go for a hot second, Mark would throw it right back in her face and go, “Pop, go have your fancy martinis with Joe – go eat a million oysters with him, us peasants here will be fine with our grey meats and questionable white sauce,” and you’d go, “Ew, shut up,” and apologise to Poppy through a mouthful of cheap fast food, and Mark would be giggling like a little school girl.

Poppy didn’t like that version of Mark, but that was the Mark that you loved and even though you knew this evening was just meant to be a quick catch-up on a work-night, you hoped you’d get to see at least a little of your Mark.

"She's taken him to Bob Bob Ricard to ask him an important question," Mark said as he set down filled plates full of beautiful colourful vegetables that honestly smelled amazing.

"I thought you guys were already engaged? You know, to each other?" you joked and made Mark snort.

"It's got to do with that though,"

"Oh no, is this, are you going to become a throuple? God," you slumped your shoulders. "I should've totally seen this coming," and before you could carry on Mark punched you in the arm with far too much force.

"No, you dick, she's asking him to be her maid of honour... sort of, but like, man of honour, I guess,"

"Oh my God," you pouted because honestly, that was kind of adorable. "Will he be, like, her little pageboy?"

You envisioned Joe in tails walking behind Poppy down the isle, holding the train of her dress or whatever pageboys actually did at weddings.

"Little more sophisticated than that, I think," Mark said before raising his full wine glass, prompting you to raise yours too.

"And you're here because I have a question for you too,"

Your eyes grew as you bit your lips slowly into your mouth when you realised where this was going.

"Oh... oh fuck, Mark, wait, this is a big deal," you put your glass down and jokingly fanned your face with your hands.

"Yes. Now, shut the fuck up and let me actually ask it,"

"No, what about your brother?" you interjected.

"My brother's a lazy sod who is not to be trusted,"

"He's going to murder me,"

"He won't," Mark grew more and more annoyed as you stalled him.

"He absolutely will,"

"Would you just..." Mark sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as he squeezed his eyes shut. "Let me please just fucking ask the question, all right? Jesus,"

You shuffled in your seat and sat up, batted your eyelashes and pursed your lips into a smile because this really was a big moment.

"Will you," Mark started, and then paused for a second before he finished, "be my best man - woman... person?"

"Oh my God. Yes."

You cheersed and just, couldn't stop cackling for a moment. What a bizarre moment in your friendship, it was all kinds of fantastic and lovely and so weird. You loved it.

You questioned what it even really meant to be someone's best man, and over dinner you both googled all the things that best men usually did. For the groom, but also, for the whole wedding. You were to give a speech, would look after the wedding rings, would have to make sure all the groomsmen - and obviously the groom himself - were all dressed and ready in time for the actual ceremony and, last but not least... the stag do.

You were so up for the job.

Deep diving into this project was the perfect distraction from the mundane boring structured routine your life had fallen into.

Halfway through dinner Mark received a text from Poppy, saying that Joe had said yes. She sent a picture of Joe with a cute pursed smile and crinkly eyes, holding up a beautiful blush pink card that read the question, "Will you be my Honour Attendant?" in one hand, and a flute of bubbly champagne in the other.

"Oh," you frowned at your friend. "Why didn't I get a fancy card? Or a fancy dinner?"

Mark put his phone down and and shrugged, just said, "That's not our style," and dismissed you completely.

It was the beginning of what started with you dramatically exclaiming, "Do I not deserve a little luxury?" and ended with you doing tequila shots by the sink in the kitchen.

Yea, Mark was right. This was more your style.

It was just after 10 when the front door opened and Poppy walked in, closely followed by Joe.

A small moment of heys and hellos, followed, and then welcome-home kisses from Mark and Poppy, and slightly awkward eye-contact between you and Joe.

Joe looked sort of stupidly well put together. All polished. He looked wildly overdressed next to you, and it made you feel like a slob. And you knew you were older, not by much, but you were definitely older than Joe was, which really should mean something, but Joe was taller, and definitely richer, and... all of it made you feel like a child.

"You're gonna be Mark's maid of honour?" Poppy squealed, all excited, practically bouncing on her feet after she'd hugged you.

"Nope," you smiled widely, "You're looking at Mark's best man,"

Poppy grinned and shot eyes towards Joe.

"See? I told you. You kind of have to go by Maid of Honour," and Joe laughed before scrunching up his nose in defeated, going, "Yea, well..." and you saw Joe look at his best friend and just turn so incredibly soft for her. Like she was the only good thing in his life, like he truly, really truly, loved her with all his might.

It was almost disgustingly sweet, and you wondered if there was ever going to be a line Joe could cross with Mark.

You could easily cross the line with Poppy. You would never forget the look in her eye when you'd fallen asleep on Mark and he'd just hugged you for a little bit. It was the hard way to learn that Poppy was a normal person with normal boundaries and you totally understood. Of course. You wouldn't want anyone just falling asleep on your boyfriend - not that you had one - either.

But when it came to Mark, he was just very.... whatever, about Joe.

You were so sure that, if Poppy were to fall asleep in Joe's arms, and Joe would cuddle her for a second, Mark would just be like, "Are you having a good nap, babe?"

Sometimes Joe would invite Poppy to go to insane award shows over seas and Mark wouldn't even care that they'd share a hotel room.

Mark was made of trust. It was a little wild, you thought. Especially when, look! Look at those eyes! Look at what Joe's eyes were doing! He was literally turning into a puddle in front of everyone as he looked at his best friend.

"Fine, I guess," Joe comically rolled his eyes at his new title. Maid of Honour Joe Quinn, who hadn't yet taken his coat off which was weird because you were all stood around the kitchen island and he was still in his coat. What a way to keep the yea-I-don't-want-to-be-here vibes alive. Felt real great, this.

The defeated acceptance of Joe to whatever was happening made you jokingly ask Poppy if she was sure having Joe as her maid of honour was the best idea.

The joke had fallen flat, but Poppy erased it immediately by clapping her hands together right in front of her face, all erratic and excited, her grin quite literally splitting her whole face open.

"Oh my God, it's gonna be so fun," Poppy predicted as she shook tensed fists in celebration and you couldn't help but smile at her.

"It's brilliant actually, you won't need to worry about the stag do at all, I'm sorry, but Mark, I won't be taking you to a strip club,"

Joe scoffed loudly, which... rubbed you a little wrong. Mark however, was about to argue you on it.

"I will, however" you quickly added as you laid a hand on Mark's shoulder, "get you so unbelievably wankered, you won't even fucking remember if we went to one in the first place," and that got him laughing loudly, head thrown back, showing off all his molars.

"Oh no, you're going to be bad at this," Mark then winced and made you gasp.

"No I won't be!"

"Maybe," Poppy started, then looked at Joe, "you could get together and help each other out?"

And Joe's eyes shot to you, and you saw every fiber in his being hesitate and think of a way to polite tell you no, that's all right actually.

"Listen," you started, and hoped to keep the atmosphere light and jokey, like it had been, even though neither you or Joe had joked or laughed together at all. You never did.

"I don't need Joe to keep me from losing the wedding rings," you helped Joe out. "I think we'll do just fine on our own – you wouldn't have asked us if you thought we were going to be shit at our jobs,"

Ever the mediator, you.

"Oh fuck," Mark squeezed his eyes shut, and tipped his head back a little.

"You just jinxed it!" Poppy said with huge eyes, but a secret smile playing underneath.

"What?"

"You're going to lose the wedding rings," Joe said.

"No I won't–"

"She's going to lose the wedding rings," Mark said to Poppy.

"If you fucking lose our wedding rings," Poppy spoke through her teeth with a threatening finger pointed at you, but couldn't keep her giggles in.

"Stop it, I'm not! I'm not going to lose your wedding rings!"

You wouldn't. Because you were going to beat Joe at this. You were going to do a better job, have more fun doing it and, you just decided, look better doing it too. And Joe was really fucking good looking, so that was really saying something.

And you wouldn't lose the wedding rings.

You wouldn't.

---

The Taglisted: 

@ghostinthebackofyourhead @dirtyeddietini @jasminearondottir @josephquinned @cancankiki @sidthedollface2 @dylanmunson @munsonsgirl71 @thefemininemystiquee @alana4610  @emmamooney @thatonefan-girl @paola-carter @figmentofquinn @haylaansmi @thewondernanazombie @munsonmunster @kellysimagines @mybffjoe @chaoticgood-munson @sherrylyn628 @bdpst-massacre @05secondsofsexgods @lovelyblueness @adoreyouusugar @nadixq @prozacandnicotine @munsonswhore86 @alwayslindie @breddiemunson @eddie-joe-munson @ali-in-w0nderland @pepperstories @phyllosilicate-s @thebellenouvelle @luvrsbian @joesquinns @choke-me-joey @alizztor @thelostmoonofpooosh @did-it-work @capricornrisingsstuff @quinnsbower @frogers @kennedy-brooke @daleyeahson @eddielives1986 @harringtonfan4 @sadbitchfangirl

(taglist currently full, sorry)

[blacktofade]

Gemtho (rpf) prompt: pregnancy scare

Another gemtho fill! Thank you for this A+ prompt!

--

Gem feels it the second Etho pulls out — she’s too wet, there’s something dripping from her that shouldn’t be.

She grunts, reaching between her legs, and maybe he thinks it’s what she always does after sex, but Etho doesn’t seem concerned. He leans down, stubble rough against her skin as he kisses at her jaw, her throat, still seeming to want more from her body.

“Etho,” she says, and he must pick up on her tone because he carefully pulls back and stares at her.

His face is pinked up from the exertion of fucking her and she wishes she could properly enjoy it.

But her heart's beating a million times a second, her stomach sinking like lead.

“The condom,” she says, watching as he finally shifts enough to look down, his expression morphing into concern.

“Fuck,” he says with feeling, and it's different from all the times he'd exhaled it against her skin, from between her legs.

She follows his gaze and she can't see the tear in the latex, but she can see where his come is dripping out against the inside of her thigh.

“Fuck,” he repeats. “Gem.”

She's not sure what she's meant to do about it, but he reaches down, thumbing at her folds as though to check, but there's no doubt about it.

The condom broke and he came inside of her.

He wipes his thumb on the sheets and meets her gaze, looking out of his depths.

“Taylor.”

Gem takes a breath and then another.

“I already said I'm not on birth control,” she points out. “That's why we had to use — ”

“They're not that old,” he interrupts, already moving, leaning closer to his nightstand as though to try to find the box the condom had been in.

Gem swallows, not feeling bolstered by his words.

She's seen his desk setup. She's seen his ten year old, works-just-fine keyboard.

“When did you buy them?” she asks, just to sate her curiosity, and his silence says enough.

He doesn't open the nightstand drawer, like he knows it won't help his case now, and he doesn't look over at her.

“It's been a little while since I brought someone home,” he admits quietly and Gem's panic lodges firmly in her throat.

“Months?” she asks. “Years?”

He doesn't answer, his body language shifting, closing off from her, and he moves away enough for her to draw her legs up, fold herself forward, and clutch at her knees like a lifeline.

When he pushes himself up off the bed, there's a long, horrible moment where she thinks he's going to leave her, but instead he disappears into his bathroom and she hears the telltale creak of the trash can lid, like he's maybe throwing the condom away.

The faucet turns on briefly — maybe washing his hands — but when he eventually emerges, his hairline is wet like he was actually splashing his face with water, needing to ground himself, clear his thoughts.

“I don't want kids,” he blurts from the doorway, and she wonders how many iterations he workshopped in the bathroom in under a minute, and if that's the best one he could think of.

It's a logical conclusion to this accident, she supposes, it's just not something she thought she'd ever hear him say.

She watches as he grabs a pair of boxers, pulling them on before curling his arms around his chest, a beacon of discomfort as he stares across at her.

“Okay,” she acknowledges. “I don’t want to be pregnant.”

His expression changes, something like surprise, as though he’d been expecting an argument from her and she’s just taken the wind out of his sails.

“You don’t?”

He says it so matter of factly that she’d probably laugh if not for the knot of anxiety in her chest.

“No,” she says. “Not all of your fangirls want to have your babies.”

That seems to get him.

He shifts, posture loosening. “That’s not — I’m sorry.”

He takes a step closer, sitting on the edge of the bed beside her, and after a moment, reaches out to set a hand on her foot. It’s not a cloying, sentimental touch and she appreciates it.

“Sorry,” he repeats and she nods, letting out a heavy breath before resting her hand over the top of his.

“Can you drive me to the pharmacy later?”

If they don’t want to do this, she needs to buy a morning-after option.

“Of course,” he agrees, squeezing her ankle gently. “We could pick up some lunch, too.”

She’s not feeling particularly hungry, but she nods because maybe she will.

“Maybe I’ll even buy you some new condoms.”

When she glances up at him, his expression is candid and it’s clear he can’t tell whether or not she’s joking. As a white flag, she lets the corner of her mouth curl up and his shoulders drop, relaxing just a little.

“Thought you’d ban me from being anywhere near you after this,” he says, and he laughs, but it sounds like it might be the truth.

His hand moves, smoothing up her shin, and her own hand follows after, feeling the need to keep touching him. She doesn’t hesitate when he shifts even closer.

He curls an arm around her waist, drawing her in, and she goes easily, tucking herself against him for the warmth, for the comfort.

He exhales quietly, pressing his face to the side of her head.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, yet again, and she brings a hand up, rubbing between his shoulders.

“It’s okay,” she promises, turning enough that she can kiss his shoulder. “Shit happens.”

It could probably be worse, she thinks. Despite it all, Etho’s a pretty safe bet.

She shuts her eyes and lets his presence ease her anxiety.

[lt-alara-kitan]

Screen Wrecked || A Seth MacFarlane AU

Chapter One: Decisions & Diatribe Romantic Pairing: Seth x OFC Tags: Awkward flirting, power dynamics (nothing too intense for the first chapter) Summary: [Alternate Universe] She's a writer down on her luck looking for a big break. He's the powerful CEO of a giant production studio and he wants her as his very personal assistant. Notes: This is an RPF but also an alternate universe. It gives me more room to play around with the idea I had. Not much is different about this universe when it comes to Seth other than he's the owner and CEO of a powerful production company. Seems like a logical step for someone like him anyway. Disclaimer: Absolutely nothing in this story is meant to reflect Seth in real life. That's why it's an alternate-universe setting, of course. The main character is just an original character I created.

"I didn't actually think I would be hired to write for the show let alone become full time staff. I don't fit in here. Nothing about this is working." She sighed as she watched the bathroom door. The last thing she needed was for someone to walk in on her talking about this job in such a bad way.

"You wanted your foot in the door this is your foot in the door. Whatever it takes, remember?"

"I remember but when they figure out I'm kind of a fraud I'm going to be out of here anyway."

"Fake it as long as you can to find the right person to take you to the next level. You have the talent now you just need the opportunity."

"Fine. Fine. I just want it on record that I already said this was a bad idea." She ended the call and slipped her phone into her back pocket. As argumentative as she could be, she also knew that Clare was right. Maybe what she was doing now wasn't the most exciting job in the world but she was working for a TV studio on a huge lot. A lot that also made movies and saw various celebrities and producers coming in and out all the time.

Unfortunately she'd now wasted fifteen minutes of her lunch break which meant she only had fifteen minutes more. That left her with precious little time to hurry out of there to get to the cafeteria to hopefully grab a sandwich and a soda to make it back to her desk in time. She was supposed to have the latest draft for the newest episode complete by the end of the day and she didn't want to have to work late again.

Hurrying down the hall and towards the elevator she ignored the vibrations from her phone as they continued to go off since she figured they were probably just from Clare sending her messages of encouragement. By the time she'd gotten to the elevator and pushed the button the notifications had gotten annoying enough that she had to take the damn thing out of her pocket to at least put it on do not disturb.

There was a ding as the elevator arrived and she took a step forward not looking up from her phone as she did. Which turned out to be a big mistake because she ran right into *him*. This made his coffee spill from the cup he was holding and splash all over his white shirt. Some designer looking fashion that would have cost her a month of her salary if not more.

"Oh my god I am so sorry." She breathed wanting to attempt to make eye contact but also being afraid of it. She knew who this was. Everyone knew who this was. He owned the entire studio. No one could go anywhere around there without hearing about Seth MacFarlane .

"It's okay," he laughed, "I didn't really like this shirt anyway and the stain kind of looks like Elvis, well, maybe if he was melting." She blinked a few times trying to process what was going on. He wasn't mad? Why? Shouldn't he be calling for security to have her escorted off of the lot?

"Yeah I guess it does but still I um...let me make it up to you." She offered. The doors closed behind them and she turned to press the button to open them again. "Were you getting off here?"

"No I was going down." He nodded, "And you?"

"Yeah me too. Guess we'll be getting off together." She paused then laughed nervously realizing what she said and how it sounded. "I mean like on the same floor not uh...the other thing."

"Other thing?"

She couldn't tell if he honestly didn't know what she meant by that or was just trying to pull her leg and get her to stick her foot in her mouth even more. It was hard not to gaze at him in complete awe. Before he'd become the studio owner he'd also been a writer, actor, director, producer, pretty much everything she'd always wanted to be. The only difference was that he was stunningly gorgeous and she didn't feel like she'd ever been much to look at.

"Never mind." She whispered and pushed back some of the hair that had fallen out of the clip she'd used to put it up in the bathroom.

"Do you really want to make it up to me?" He asked, leaning against the wall to the elevator.

"Yes because I'm so sorry and it will never happen again. I swear." She sighed, "I'm just so...it's not your problem really so never mind all of that."

"You're having problems here?"

"No, I mean, yes but not with anyone specifically everyone has been super nice I just don't think I'm the right person for the job on the show that I've been writing for." She tried to explain without getting into all of the details. He kind of motioned in her direction and she blinked a few times trying to figure out what he was indicating. That was when she realized she hadn't even pushed the button for the ground floor. "Oh fuck sorry...I mean...not fuck..."

"It's okay." He laughed. "Deep breaths you're doing fine." With a nod she reached out and pressed the button for the ground floor. The elevator started to move then there was a rusty screeching sound. The lights above them flickered then shut off as the elevator came to a halt.

"Fu-n." She managed to correct herself at the last moment.

"Do you really think I don't know what you were going to say?" He chuckled again and seconds later the orange glow of the emergency lights flickered on. At least they weren't in pitch black anymore. He stepped forward and pressed the emergency call button, though it didn't seem to do anything either. "What was your name again?"

"Lisa." She said, "Lisa Brixton."

"Ah the new hire for Quantum Echoes." He nodded. She arched a brow, surprised that he'd know anything about that. She guessed it mad some kind of sense but her low level compared to his much higher level position denoted that he wouldn't be bothered with that. "I read the spec script."

"You did? No one told me-"

"It's one of my favorite projects on this lot. Those scripts go through me from time to time. Especially when we need a new writer. I liked it. What makes you think you're not a good fit?"

"Oh well I'm much more into horror than sci-fi, hence the plot of my spec script being relatively horrific. I feel like the sci-fi part was understated for the actual content of the show and I'm really not great at writing science fiction. I just love Siara and wanted to give her some special redemption episode."

"She's a great character. Probably my favorite other than Captain Miller." He nodded then took a sip of what happened to be left in the coffee cup she had spilled. "Horror huh? You have any other spec scripts?"

"No, just actual screenplays and pilots I'm trying to get out there."

"About what?"

For a moment she was rendered speechless since she didn't think she'd get this far in the conversation or that he'd be interested. Probably had they not been stuck in an elevator like this then he wouldn't have but what else were they supposed to do other than talk until help came?

"Oh one of them is kind of a dark comedy horror thing about demons and demon hunters. I have another one that's just a mafia crime drama but I guess there's plenty of dark humor in that as well. Big fan of dark humor." She nodded glad that the orange of the lights in there hid how much she had to be blushing as she forced herself to talk about this to the most powerful guy in the studio.

"You know if you really don't feel like you fit with Quantum Echoes I may have a better position for you. It just opened up."

"Mmm okay what would that be?"

"Personal assistant."

She clenched her jaw as she had kind of been hoping that maybe, just maybe, he was going to offer her something else. However, she also knew that she really couldn't expect an immediate movie deal from him based off of what she had said and her minimal experience there. Being his person assistant would be a step up. She'd get to know him a lot more intimately and it would certainly open up the doors she'd been trying to open for years. She'd never do that as just a staff writer for a show she enjoyed but shouldn't have been writing for in the first place.

"Yeah I mean I'd love too if you think that's a good idea."

"You have any experience with it?"

"Way more than being a staff writer for an actual TV show. It's how I started my career out here."

"Smart move." He chuckled and leaned passed her to press the emergency button again. "The position I'm considering you for will probably be different than what you were doing previously, though."

"Oh? Well I'm a fast learner and I can adapt like that." She snapped her fingers on the last word. "I can send you my resume and recommendations if-"

"That won't be necessary." He said. "Be in my office tomorrow morning at eight and we'll get you started."

"What about my-"

"Don't worry I'm sure I can find them another writer to replace you if things work out." She grinned. Just as he was about to press the emergency button again there was static on the intercom then a voice informing them that things should be up and running in five minutes or so.

"Thank you, sir. I promise that I won't let you down."

"Don't start making promises until you know the details of the position." He said looking her right in the eyes as he spoke. Then he took another sip of his coffee.

"Details..."

"Nothing to be discussed here. You'll have to sign an NDA first."

"What kind of..." before she could finish the lights came back on and the elevator shuddered back to life. It started to descend to the ground floor once again. She looked at him her mind swirling with thoughts about what he could possibly be talking about when it came to this position as his assistant. Her mind went to sex, of course, probably something perverted or kinky.

*Whatever it takes. *

The mantra echoed through her head. She knew what she was doing here and no doubt he knew what this was as well. It couldn't have been any more obvious with him bringing this up right after she explained to him what she really wanted to do with her writing career. Still, there were worse things she could be doing to climb her way to the top. Worse people too. The doors opened and he stepped out in front of her before pausing and turning.

"You were right about us getting off together you know." He laughed and without another word he headed for the men's room probably in an intent to clean up his shirt. She felt her face heat up like crazy as she flushed with arousal and embarrassment. She wasn't sure why he'd be so interested in her but it didn't really matter. If this was her way into the life that she always wanted to have, she was going to take it.

*******

She didn't know how she was supposed to dress for this meeting but she chose to go with a business professional look. Something that she'd modeled after the other personal assistants she had seen around. Even if she had this job before it hadn't been for anyone nearly as high profile as Seth. She guessed she would find out soon enough.

When she arrived there was a secretary in the waiting area. A very annoyed looking woman with overfilled lips and an obvious boob job. She was filing her nails and seemed put out by having to actually do her job and tell Seth that someone was there for an appointment. She took a seat to wait for him but he was fairly punctual. It was a good thing since she hadn't wanted to wait long enough for the panic to set in and convince her to leave.

"Come on in, Lisa." He said and motioned for her to join him in his office. She'd never been in there before but it was huge and luxurious. At the same time it was cozy and warm. Not sterile and cold like she somehow expected it to be. "Have a seat." She looked at the chairs across from his desk and sat down.

"Thank you for seeing me, sir."

"Don't be so humble I don't like that. Besides I asked you here so the pleasure is all mine." He smirked and then opened the top drawer of his desk with a key. He removed two stacks of paper from in there and set them on the desk facing her. He slid the one on the right forward first. "There are two contracts for you to look over."

"I'm not really the best at legal speak unless you want me to take a few hours to really comprehend what's in here." She laughed softly.

"You can certainly take all the time you want but I can summarize it. I guess it's up to you to believe it or not." He said. She nodded and picked up the papers that he'd slid towards her first.

The first page was standard stuff. Mostly about privacy and a non disclosure agreement for being his assistant. On the next few pages were details of what was expected from her in this position and then a general dress code. All of it was familiar to her and things she'd done before.

"You can summarize this if you want but it's like every other contract I've signed for this job so I don't think you're trying to screw me or anything." She laughed.

"Ah don't speak too soon." He smirked and looked her over. She blinked a few times wondering what that was supposed to mean. "The standard contract which you are free to accept will pay 150 thousand a year with car allowance and-"

"I'm sorry what?"

"That's pretty much the going rate for good personal assistants, isn't it?"

"Well 100k and um not a car allowance so..."

"Anyone ever tell you that you're too honest for your own good? Look if you want a decent place to live here and a car that works you need the salary. I also can't have my assistant driving...what is it you drive?"

"A 2016 Toyota." She said. It was old and had a lot of miles but still worked. Mostly. It probably wouldn't be that way for long.

"Yeah so that's not going to be reliable or flashy and I can't have people thinking someone who works for me has that car. No offense." He sighed. "Look I'm really not this narcissistic it's the business you know? Appearances and all that."

"I understand sir. Please continue." She said knowing that she was making half what he just offered as a staff writer and was living with roommates. The new salary would allow her to get her own place and in a better part of town.

"It also includes medical and dental and paid vacation time. Oh also a Christmas bonus depending on how well the studio does this year. Any questions?"

"Not about this." She looked up and motioned to the other stack of papers which was obviously another contract she just couldn't read it from where it was on the desk.

"This is another contract for a very personal assistant." He said. "Don't freak out. I'm offering, sure, but you can say no and still keep the regular job it won't come up again." He said. "No pressure."

"Very personal assistant?" She knew this had to be a sex thing but she was way more intrigue than repulsed. Also confused. Why her? "No offense sir but can't you have any woman on the planet?"

"Most of them yes but that's not what this is about." He chuckled. "This is about a power dynamic."

"I see." She said and sat up a bit more to try to get a glimpse of what the contract said but he put his hand over it quickly.

"Interested?"

"I can't say I'm not but I also can't say yes or no at this time. Can I at least think about it first?"

"Alright you have one week then the offer is off the table and I find someone else. For that job. As I said you can keep the normal one." He said. She nodded looking down at his hand then back up to his eyes. This wasn't going to be an easy decision.

"But if I'm your special personal assistant wouldn't that mean another person would-"

"No. You'd still be my personal assistant just with more benefits." He said. "And that's all you get to know...for now."

"How am I supposed to know if I want to agree to this if I don't know what else is in the contract."

"Life is about risks. The greater the risk the greater the reward. Up to you to decide. Not me." He said. "So if you are starting today there's a whole list of things I need you to get to by day's end." He grabbed a planner from his desk and held it out to her along with a pen. She took it and signed the first contract quickly not wanting that to be taken off the table for a second.

"I'll get right on it, sir and you'll have my answer within the week. Maybe less."

"Good to know." He said and turned to look at his computer. She watched him for a moment before heading out of there to start taking care of her list. The first task was a Starbucks run. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all. A new car. A new place to live and a job she was better suited for, even if it wasn't exactly the dream option. Yet try as she might, she couldn't get the idea of the second contract out of her head. She was positive it would torment her the rest of the day too.

[moistcl1tikal-ao3]

Hey! Was just curious if you get random anon messages that are basically calling you a horrible person because of stuff you write. Follow up: how do you deal with it? I've gotten stuff before and have ended up taking down posts and I don't think I write anything as "bad" as you. (That last part sounds wrong, I think you're totally fine and we should be able to write what we want) 🤍🤍

I do not, actually! I think it's because I don't maintag, and this is a niche enough community that if you're a freak for RPF, you're not gonna bat an eye at the dude writing weird incest. I think I got a mean comment on AO3 once or twice?

both on chapter two of the fic btw, LONG after it was posted. which meant that bitch you READ ITTTT after you SEARCHED ITTTT. bitches will not use the "exclude" feature and get mad when there's stuff they don't like in there. lmao. imagine being a fucking league of legends fan and you're telling me I'M the loser. tbh in my head i just go "ah, the post nut shame hit them bad" and move on. genuinely though like.

nonny you gotta let your freak flag fly. i already know im a bad person because of my entire irl personality, but all this is fictional so who cares. literally who cares. people have to search for your stuff if you're tagging your dddne properly and if they search it, that's their fucking fault. block them, delete the anons and keep being you. together, all of the freaks of the world can prevent the Internet from being advertiser friendly. together all of us can truly make this website the next PDF.

anyway this was a very nice anon and dw I'm not offended by what you said - i just have a lot more experience, I'd say, than the average person in getting my freak on in writing. so I'm much further down the degeneration path than most, which is fine, I get to corrupt you all along the way >:)

[sinningtamer]

opinion on rpf for tmi tuesday??? in the context of "this is meant to be cc! not c!"

it depends!

in general i think it's fine, as long as you're not a creep about it. like, yeah, it's inherently a little weird, but i just feel people should be self-aware when they engage with it? as long as you're creating content for it with the mindset of "this isn't real, none of this is actually happening/going to happen, i'm just having fun and the cc isn't seeing it," then yeah, whatever, go wild.

i'm just uncomfortable when i see stuff that turns into like... truthing. compiling evidence to prove something about a person you don't know. that stuff. rpf content that does that is pretty minimal, so i just avoid it and rarely see it anyway :]

hopefully that makes sense?

to go into a more personal answer, i haven't really made rpf content myself, mostly because i find it a little boring. i get the appeal, but it's more fun for me to have wiggle room with the world and headcanons you surround a character/ship in.

though, me and my co-writer's teacher/student AU was actually gonna be borderline rpf, with a lot of details based on the IRL ccs. (i mean, where do you think we got english teacher dan from? lmao)

i'm still mourning that AU x_x we had a whole outline for the fic written... i forget if i've said it directly, but it's abandoned because the other man character was wiIbur :< i'm not against reclaiming characters from shitty ccs, but because his character in that au was kinda, based off the irl guy, neither of us feel comfortable trying to do anything with it. which sucks!!! i really liked our ideas!! and i think y'all wouldve had fun with it ORZ

sorry this turned into a rant HAHA but yeah rpf fun i just don't have much interest in it

tmi tuesday time babes

[olderthannetfic]

I try to be pro freedom of fiction, but there's one genre I find hard to swallow where I find that the anti arguments often make more sense to me than the pro arguments, and that's RPF. It's fiction, I know that, but I wouldn't want anyone to write smut about me either, especially not me as a kid, so it sits wrong with me as a genre. It just feels repulsive and intrusive to treat real people as fictional characters. Any idea on where I can find more nuanced takes on this subject?

RPF anon, I'm not sending this in to admonish anyone for writing it or to tell them to stop doing it, and I'm never gonna interact with that content anyway, but it does elicit a reaction of "Ew, oh God why" in me and I was curious to know what makes this type of content fine to write about real people. Looking to learn, not change anyone's mind.

--

Well...

First of all, disgust is not a moral compass. Sometimes, what we find disgusting does line up well with things we think are logically unethical, but sometimes, it's just a visceral reaction based on personal taste or learned hatred. So we'll set that part aside for now.

Now, on to your real point, which is that RPF could upset its subjects. That does make logical sense on the surface. I can see why it's an attractive argument.

Here is the problem I have with it:

1. Yes, you would not like RPF written about you, but how do you know that this applies to other people? Every time this topic comes up, somebody asks me "How would you like it if someone nonconsensually wrote RPF about you?" and my answer is that this has happened to me. I felt slightly weird about it, but I didn't ask them to stop. We're still friends 20 years later.

We have examples of celebrities who were flattered or amused. We have examples of celebrities who asked people not to do specific things like shipping them with their ex but who did not care if people wrote violent porn about them.

It is simply untrue that everyone objects to RPF, even pornographic and squicky RPF, about themselves. I am not a celeb, but I genuinely do not care if someone writes graphic pedo fic about me as a child. I don't even care if they jerk it to photographs of me as a child. As long as they aren't fucking actual kids or sending their fic to me, I don't care what they do.

Your next point is going to be something like "Okay, but what about a celeb who has said they hate it?" My answer there is that many individual fans will not want to write fic under those circumstances, and I get why. However, the second problem I have with anti-RPF arguments is:

2. What makes RPF so special? Plenty of actors identify very closely with a character they play and object strenuously to fic about that character, especially anything they find gross or creepy... and yes, historically, this has meant m/m more than it has meant death or rapefic.

Why should an actor's genuine feelings of disgust and hurt be invalid when a fic is about a character they play rather than their public persona? What gives them the right to tell fans how to fantasize in either case?

Authors are even more notorious for freaking out about fic of their work. They've thrown hissy fits likening it to cheating with their spouse, to rape, and to white slavery. (Fuck you, Diana Gabaldon. Never forget!) I know fans who think fanfic of books in general is an invasion and that only fic of tv/film is normal and okay.

Fic can cause genuine hurt feelings, yes, but all fic can do this.

--

Those are my logical arguments for why all RPF is acceptable--or at least no different from other fic. But I also think it's important to recognize how RPF operates in practice.

In this era of youtube celebrities, we are seeing a bit more RPF of people who are relatively accessible and maybe not that famous. However, most RPF is still about the public personas of famous people. It's more likely that a rando will have a boundary-tresspassing friend write them into an original novel than that they'll get RPF written about them in a fandom context.

Typical RPF looks more like some AU where fanon personalities and faces of BTS are grafted onto a bunch of wizards running a magic shop. This is so unbelievably fake I don't even know where to start. Even if it isn't an AU, idol groups are some of the fakest celebrities there are. Their images are heavily manufactured. The people being written about might as well be characters they play.

Moreover, their images are manufactured to make fans fantasize.

Music groups have always done this. It has been normal since way, way back to have fan magazines with stories about "You win a date with [guy]". The only difference is that people now write a fair amount of m/m in addition to m/ofc.

I just don't think it's reasonable to tell fans how to fantasize or to ask your audience not to have an imagination. Fic on AO3 is far more boundary-respecting than people gushing over their crushes on twitter, a site plenty of celebs actually use, but they're both okay as long as people aren't rubbing the subject's face in their fantasy life.

Even the favorite example of Dan and Phil is complicated. Yes, fans were pushy and obnoxious at them--directly at them--but they also stoked the fires of shipping because it was good for clicks. They rode that type of fan fantasy to stardom. People writing fic are at least engaging in overt fiction and fantasy, unlike the people harassing the actual dudes for info about their personal lives.

Anti-RPF rants tend to treat this as some innocent passerby minding their own business and then some pervert jumping out of the bushes to tell them about their wank fantasies, but that's just not the reality of most RPF writing. It's generally inspired by people who seek fame through encouraging that kind of fantasy. It's not RPF that invades celebs' space: it's people demanding a stop to RPF who are invading fans' space.

And there's a special circle of hell for those pathetic suckups who show other people's fic to their faves hoping to get their fandom enemies in trouble and curry favor with their idols. Those are the people with no boundaries who deserve our wrath.

--

Original writing is full of RPF, from basically all historical novels to ripped from the headlines stuff speculating about celebrities. I find some of this tasteless or Too Soon, but it is seen as completely normal by society. Most 'young woman meets her male celeb crush' stuff is normalized.

The reason RPF comes under fire is that the less socially acceptable sexual fantasies of young women are always under fire.

I absolutely do think there are issues with teenagers seeking internet fame and finding it's more than they bargained for. If you object to fanfic about teenage youtubers, you should object to there being teenage youtubers.

I also think there are issues with child stars. But is somebody's Stranger Things fanfic on AO3 really more of a problem than all the things that went on on set? Than the epic quantities of creepy fanmail? Ultimately, if you're bothered by RPF of underage actors, you should be against underage people being in movies at all. The biggest sources of harm aren't coming from fic.

[idontwanttospoiltheparty]

first of all i want to say i absolutely love i'm looking thorugh you and i'm excited for the next chapter. now on an unrelated note i want to ask have you seen sarah z's new video on fanfiction? if you have, what do you think?

Hi anon, thank you so much!!! My exams are starting in 10 days and in 5 days I'll be seeing my sister for the first time in one and a half years, so I'm gonna really try to find space to finish up Chapter 8 very soon (perhaps today [not including editing time, but everything currently written has been gone through once already]) so that I can justifiably step away from it again to focus on my exams and spending time with her, before returning to it. (which probably won't be before September)

I hadn't seen it and haven't watched any of her videos in a while, but I did upon seeing this ask. (I find her long-winded and generally she doesn't say much I haven't thought of myself; watched it on double speed lmao)

I agree with her on most points, I think. Fanfic is clearly art, I think that's honestly a stupid thing to even debate about. Also, it's first and foremost a medium with intrinsic qualities that can be either used to the story's advantage or disadvantage.

While there's value in original fiction having to rise up to the challenge of building characters and setting from scratch, a narrative meant to be understood with foreknowledge of "canon" can actually inherently tell a different type of story. Like, it's kind of one of the points I'm trying to make with I'm Looking Through You; demonstrating how the story both parallels and diverges from what actually happened, which would be difficult to do in a satisfying and engaging way if I had to establish the first "timeline" within the story as well, if that makes sense.

That being said, I think Beatles RPF (the kind that doesn't take place in AUs) is sort of interesting in that respect: if you're writing fic for a book series or a movie franchise or what have you, in most cases you can expect the reader to have come across the entire canon (say with the exception of monster franchises like Discworld or the Star Wars EU). But in the case of a story based on a real history, which draws from many books and accounts as well as pictures and film, it's kind of difficult for me as an author to suss out what I can reasonably expect my readers to be aware of. Usually, when I tie in some recollection of a real event (example off the top of my head: I mention Paul getting Dot Rhone pregnant in chapter 3) I try to formulate it in a way that if someone wasn't previously privy to that particular fact it would still be understandable to the extent it's relevant to the story. The only thing I in general assume to be known is their discography. So in a way, the concept of fanfic not requiring any skills in establishing anything isn't quite accurate. I'm also kind of a big show don't tell truther, so I kind of think if you follow that principle perfectly (not saying I do btw, it's pretty difficult) with your characters, you're more or less doing the same thing whether the characters are known to the audience already or not.

I think the main thing about fanfic and the perceived poor quality of it is due to, as mentioned in the video, there being zero barriers of entry but also to the fact that constructive criticism is just not really welcome on fanfic sharing platforms. For better or for worse, in 90% of the cases, people are only gonna comment on a fic to praise it. I think that's fine in the sense that most people aren't aspiring professional writers, but it doesn't make for the best environment to improve and grow as a writer more than simply practicing the art would help anyways. If you're lucky, someone will specify the reasons they enjoy the story, but just like we can't expect everyone to write perfectly, we can even less expect all readers to spend half an hour writing a carefully worded review. I kind of wish there was a setting on ao3 where you could mark a fic as "open to criticism", so people who are just writing for themselves can just keep doing their thing unbothered, but people interested in honing their craft could get more nuanced feedback than "OHHHH MY GOOOOOD I LOVE THIS".

The kind of funny thing for me is that all original fiction I've written or attempted to write up until now was very much based around my own personal experiences, so writing from the perspective of men in the 60s who had insanely different lives from mine actually really forced me out of my comfort zone in a way? And the work I put into the historical research is considerable, so I just think that really doesn't match up with what fanfic-haters imagine the genre to be?

Of course, a bunch of stories do match up with antis' expectations of it, but alas that's not fanfiction as a medium's fault and there's nothing inherently wrong with stories written with their main purpose being escapism. I mostly think people should be aware that that's what they're consuming and if that's the only thing they consume, they might be missing out on more challenging ideas.

[allegra-writes]

"The stray"

Tom Holland x Reader

General audiences

Warnings: None.

Hey, guys! This is actually a repost of an old story I took down before my hiatus because toxic stans made me feel uncomfortable about RPF. But I decided they can go fuck themselves😊

So, I will be slowly but surely reposting all my Tom fics here again, except for the smuts because... Well, several reasons that would make this too long. So without further ado, here's my dearest and favorite Tom fic:

"Oh, no. No way. Forget it, y/n, it's not happening"

"Tommy, please" You begged, lips in a pout and eyes big and supplicating. Your boyfriend sighed, he could never say no to you. Especially when you gave him that look, you could give his own puppy eyes a run for their money anyday. He lowered his gaze from your way-too-adorable face to the grey tomcat in your arms, but that wasn't any better: the thing looked pathetic, sad eyed and dirty and soaked to the bone.

... Very prominent bones under too little flesh, half starved to death. 

"Please, babe, just for tonight. Tomorrow I promise I will take him to the shelter myself. But we can't leave him out here in the storm, he won't survive the night" 

Tom had no doubt you were right, the way the cat wasn't even fighting your hold proof that it was too weak, too tired. 

"Please, Tommy, say yes" You tried one last time, "do it for me"

That was it. If he couldn't say no to you before, there was absolutely no way in hell he was going to be able to deny your request now. It was clear manipulation and he knew it but for the life of him he couldn't ever get himself to resist you. As it was, he didn't really want to, not when he knew you would probably find some very creative ways to make it up to him later in the bedroom. 

"Fine. But we're taking it to the shelter first thing in the morning…"

Your replying smile was blinding, knocking his breath away completely. God, he was so whipped. Fuck his distaste, fuck his allergies, fuck everything, he would foster every cat in the world if it meant seeing that smile on your pretty face all the time. 

That was how Tom found himself replaced by a four legged sack of fleas. Ignored and neglected in his own house. Ok, maybe he was being a little dramatic, but it was his first free weekend in weeks and instead of paying attention to him, you were spoiling, cuddling and even making dinner to a stray. 

"I don't get what she sees in you, you're not even cute" he grumbled at the scrawny feline sitting beside him on the couch, "You're just a dusty, smelly, walking ball of dirty fur… and toxoplasmosis" 

The thing just stared, big green eyes blinking slowly at him. You had told him what that meant but he hadn't been really listening. He blinked back just as slow, pretty sure that that was what you had told him to do. 

"Woah, mate! What are you doing? Get away!" Tom did not screech when the cat walked closer. He did not. Unphased by the decidedly not high pitched noise, the grey furball climbed onto his lap.

"Oh… ok. This is… kind of nice actually" The cat snuggled closer into him, no doubt seeking the heat of Tom's body, before yawning big and closing his eyes, tiny head resting on Tom's abs. 

"Fine" Your boyfriend mumbled, before bringing his hand up to softly stroke the cat's fur, "but I'm still cuter than you!"

Tom laid back on the couch, getting more comfortable. All of a sudden, he had a feeling he was going to be staying like that for a while…

"... Are you vibrating ?"

…

The house was quiet as you took off your AirPods and lowered your wooden spoon. A little too quiet, in fact. Tom had said he was going to be in the living room 'watching some telly' but the TV was off. 

Curious, you left the kitchen to investigate, but you didn't have to go very far: There, sprawled on the couch, was your boyfriend, soundly asleep with the very same cat not even fifteen minutes before he had sworn he hated, now snuggled firmly to his chest.  

You covered your mouth to stop the giggle that wanted to escape so as not to wake him. Taking out your phone, you snapped a few quick pictures, before going to him.

"Tom, love?" You kneeled beside him, placing a soft kiss on his lips, "dinners ready. Both your dinners" you added as the cat stretched, still perched on your boyfriend's chest. 

"Hmmm? Oh… yeah, ok… we're going" He replied, sleepily sitting up, still embracing the cat to stop it from falling to the ground.

"Don't get too attached, babe" You called back, making your way to the kitchen, "we're taking him to the shelter in the morning, remember?"

"Actually, I was thinking" He started, scrambling to follow you, "if Dusty gets along with the chickens… we could, you know... Keep him" 

"Dusty, huh?" You turned, trying to hide your smirk.

"Well, I mean, we can change it to Dustin… after a bath" he raised the still purring cat until their faces were pressed against each other, "What do you say? Pleaseee?"

This time, it was him the one giving you the puppy dog eyes. 

Your smile finally broke free, as you stepped close to him,

"You are the best boyfriend ever, did you know that?" 

"I might have heard some rumors, yeah…" He whispered, before crossing the last inches separating you to capture your lips in an earth shattering kiss.

 

The end.

[sdwolfpup]

AO3 Tag Game

I was tagged by @nire-the-mithridatist!

1. how many works do you have on ao3? 129 works, of which 23 are vids. I'll try to answer these for fics only where I can.

2. what’s your current ao3 wordcount? 1,447,129 words. 1,237,505 of which have been since 2019. 😶

3. how many fandoms have you written for and what are they? I have 29 fandoms listed. The ones I've written for are: ASoIaF/Game of Thrones, due South, Z Nation, Hard Core Logo, Prison Break, Mass Effect: Andromeda, BSG, Dragon Age Inquisition, Slings & Arrows, Farscape, Friday Night Lights, SNL RPF, Sleepy Hollow, Firefly, and *technically* The OC and Supernatural and Political RPF in a crossover thing I wrote for Brynn once.

4. what are your top 5 fics by kudos? Heart Full of Gasoline (1328 kudos)

Baby I Will (1026)

Go On (946)

Working 9 to 5 (765)

To be in your arms again (739)

All five of these are Jaime/Brienne fics. The first four are all modern AUs, the last one is my post-Game of Thrones season 8 fixit.

5. do you respond to comments? why or why not. I do! For chaptered fics I make it a personal requirement that I answer them before or immediately after I post a new chapter so I don't fall too behind. For one-shots I eventually get to them although sometimes it takes a while. I think I feel strongly about it because as someone who was primarily a vidder for most of my fannish life, comments were like gold nuggets. Every comment meant so much to me, and still does. One of the ways vidders tried to encourage comments was by expressing that gratitude via responding, and I think that sometimes helps on fics, too. For fics in small fandoms, I'm excited to find anyone who read the story and then took the time to comment. For a big (to me) fandom like JB, I'm grateful that people chose to read one of my stories when they had so many to choose from, and responding to comments is how I express that.

(All that being said, I totally understand why other people don't reply to comments, this is just why I do.)

6. what’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending? Oddly, it's probably not the JB fic where it's the end of the world, but rather an ME:A fic I wrote from Reyes Vidal's POV after the confrontation with Sloane in the caves: If It Could Hurt Like That.

7. do you write crossovers? what’s the craziest one you’ve ever written? I do, although I don't tend to think that way. The craziest is probably the one I mentioned above that I wrote for Brynn, which was a Supernatural/The OC/Barack Obama fic. Although I also like the one where Vecchio & Fraser from due South go on Serenity from Firefly.

8. have you ever received hate on a fic? Technically I suppose yes, although it was so mild I don't like to call it 'hate.' Someone said on Working 9 to 5 that they weren't reading anymore once they hit the pegging. 🤷🏻‍♀️Which is fine, people shouldn't read what they don't like, but also, you can just leave without announcing it. (Especially when this person had never commented on the fic otherwise, lol.)

(Bonus shout out, though, to the person who left a comment on my candy cane dildo story that began: "What is it with the holidays and ass play stories?")

9. do you write smut? Yes. Heh.

10. have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I know of. That is a milestone I would be very happy never reaching.

11. have you ever co-written a fic before? Yes! I've co-written a couple of things with @brynnmck and it's one of my favorite things to do. She's my OTWP (one true writing partner, hee).

12. what’s your all time favorite ship? Based on how long I've been shipping them and the sheer number of fics I've written, it's got to be Jaime/Brienne.

13. what was the first fandom you wrote for? The 10th Kingdom is the first fandom I ever posted fic in, although not on AO3. The first fandom I ever wrote any sort of story for, was Star Trek: the Next Generation, but it was only the beginning and I never finished or posted it.

14. what’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

I truly don't know how to answer this question. Overall probably Heart Full of Gasoline, because of the scope of it, and the fact that I'm still proud of how it turned out. But I think never far away might be my best pure story for emotions, and I've re-read my Fraser/Vecchio fic, Sign Language a bunch of times and it makes me happy every time.

IF they want to do it, I'm taggin @gabolange, @teatotally, @brynnmck, @robotsdance, and @firesign23 and any of you who want to do it please say I tagged you! Because I did spiritually.

[ingravinoveritas]

Honestly, I don't understand why are people attacking you for shipping Michael and David. This is not only about how they look at each other (it warms my heart). It's also about how they behave around each other, talk about each other. Michael looks like he's in heaven, when he's in David's presence ('Every day with David is heaven on Earth'), they praise each other so much, they flirt on Staged. So I'm 100% sure they're not uncomfortable with this. I feel like they want us to ship them.

Ahh, I love you, Anon. Totally 100% agree with everything you’ve said here, and thank you for this lovely and wonderfully supportive message. (Unrelated side note: I didn’t realize you could make things bold or italic in an Ask. How did you do that, Anon? What sorcery is this?? Xkit? I must know...)

So, I’m going to take up one little point with your last sentence. Because I’ve been thinking about what some other Anons and folks have said to me, which is that I’m “respectful” when it comes to RPF and the Michael/David stuff. I think I am starting to understand what they meant, which is that you have fans who go way overboard, who insist that their fantasies are actually reality, and that the personal life of the celeb(s) in question is fake. (”[Celebrity A]’s not really in love with [wife/husband/spouse]! It’s all for show! He loves [Celebrity B]!” Stuff like that.)

Well, that’s not how I approach these things. I have my opinions on their current relationships (Michael’s, mostly), but what I can’t do and what no one else can do with any reasonable certainty is say exactly what it is Michael and David want. We can only take what they are giving us--and it is a bountiful banquet, what with both of them being huge teases who just happened to find each other (like Cinderella and the Prince, but with a glory hole instead of a glass slipper)--and say this is what could be true. This is what they are giving us to play with and fantasize about, and man, they are all-too-happy to keep blurring those lines, intentionally or otherwise. But what actually is true is something only Michael and David themselves can ever know.

However. I do very much agree that they don’t seem to be uncomfortable with the shipping, if for no other reason than that you don’t refer to someone as your “lover” (yes, I am looking at you, Michael Christopher Sheen) if you don’t want people to think that person is...well...your lover. Nor do you wax rhapsodic about the slinky nature of their hips while staring dreamily into the distance in the middle of your fairy tale garden. I mean...there’s “playing to the audience,” and then there’s “playing to the audience while also being a member of said audience,” and Michael is very much doing the latter.

So what I really think is that, if anything at all, Michael and David want people to feel free to imagine whatever they like. Don’t misunderstand me--if either of them came out (heh...I said “came out”) tomorrow and said they weren’t comfortable with fans shipping them, I would gladly respect that. But what they keep doing is encouraging the bejesus out of it, not giving a crap what anyone thinks one way or the other, as long as they are happy. And that is absolutely perfectly fine with me...

[lowkeysebastianstan]

I think Alejandra and Sebastian is rp but is my opinion, moth ago (or something like that) i interested them but i hear about her when pepole make a hastag #sebastianstanisoverparty but i was like 'i dont care, whatever' but situation a bit and I believe that it is rp. The fact that he travels is wrong, but it is not for us to judge. Not our business, not our life. Pepole who judge him must First, they should ask themselves: "am I a decent person?". NOT JUDGE NO ONE. I don't care about private+

+ life of celebrities. I don't care about their private lives. There are worse problems in the world: peddling, rape, taking rights from Polish women, sick children, etc. Additionally, there is Covid.

okay, i’m not sure what you mean with rp? real people? as in ‘rpf’ or ‘real people fiction’? or rp as in ‘role-playing’? the connotations are quite different, but i’ll take a stab at both.

if you mean real people, then yeah, they are, and their lives aren’t anyone else’s playthings. (she said, having written rpf, but let’s move on)

if you think they’re role-playing, then well, that’s on you and whoever thinks that, but i’m still firmly in the ‘idgaf’ camp. it’s their lives, their responsibility, their business.

ETA: a nice person in the replies suggested you meant ‘pr’ as in public relations, which makes hella sense, but also falls under the previous paragraph, i dunno, nor do i care, whether they are sincere or doing it for pr. firstly it’s not my business, but secondly, at this juncture? why? like, he’s been enjoying a lot of good press lately, seems dumb he’d do this when everyone’s been squeeing over tfatws bts content? but i’m probably just too dumb to understand the intricacies of it. 

when it comes to judging him/them, well, that’s more sticky. bc i do think ppl have that right, to judge their actions towards an ethical spectrum, and rn the situation is such that it could be argued that international travel can be unethical. for the danger it could potentially put others in. and you can judge ppl for that without slinging slurs and misogyny. 

that it’s bad taste to flaunt wealth and privilege is another thing, and even if i think that’s not on the same level, i get that ppl can be turned off by that.

BUT! what i didn’t mention in my previous rant is that if anyone thinks he/they are so bad, just don’t follow them. the fans know, and if they’re still fans, then they obviously have different priorities than you. there’s a whole host of ppl i used to follow that i don’t anymore. and for some of them, it was simply that their values differed from mine to a degree that i couldn’t accept. and that’s fine.

(last paragraph wasn’t directed at you, anon, btw. it goes for everyone.)

and you’re right, the world is a crapshoot rn, and it has been for a long time. so we should have other priorities. thing is, since the world is so bad, i get the inclination to spend time and energy obsessing over small stuff. you know, bc the other stuff is hard to take in constantly. which is why i’m fussing over misogyny in fandom and wagging fingers or fighting terfs on twitter instead to take it all in. *sigh*

i hope you’re having a smashing day anon <3

[theelliottsmiths]

I meant I don't know if its ok to write RPF with non band members even if it's just a friendship fic. No slash, just some caring or reassurance from Danny. It was inspired by the fall. I value your opinion so i wanted to know what you think please.

Thanks for being patient, I have formed my opinion. You're probably fine.

Just generally speaking, you can do anything you want. Whether the reaction will be positive remains to be seen, but there's nothing actually stopping you, especially if you anon or orphan it. I think this is a thing Till would agree with.

I always feel a little weird about RPF in general (I was a rhink shipper when I was younger and feel bad about it) but to me it's different with Rammstein because of their general views on self expression and sexuality, and also the Richard interview. RPF is complicated and relies heavily on maintaining boundaries (for example, don't show people fic about them unless they've asked to see it, it's creepy yes I'm looking at you Graham Norton). Richard has said before he supports it as long as you don't write about his children.

It's trickier when it comes to people outside of the band and hinges, I think, on the amount of involvement and the content when they haven't directly said anything about it. They haven't chosen to be in the public eye the same way Till, for example, has. It not being sexual makes that a bit less of an issue but it's still a very wiggly line.

You can send me it if you want a more informed opinion.

[usernamesuggestionsarefunny]

No worries, I realize I might have come off as overly confrontational in my original comment, because I preferred to be "shocking" and "in your face" in the heat of the moment instead of opting for a mature way of voicing my doubts about the original post in a more calm, literal and clear way that left little doubt of what I meant.

I wish I could only blame tumblr as a whole for infecting my brain with their classical snappy style of discourse, but at the end of the day, I decided to write that.

The original post just said something like "if you decide to write something harmful on purpose then fuck you", while at the same time claiming to be anti censorship, giving examples of the hetalia guy and the terf artist. The terf artist seemed to be the worst, although I don't know the details of the case. If she was straight up sending her horrible art to trans people then that obviously makes her horrible in a way your average rpf smut writer who doesn't want the celebrities it is about to see their work simply isn't, but if she was doing it in her own space or something then I still hate the contents of her "art" just like I hate rape fics about real people that are meant to be seen as a love story, but I am still not going to harrass the artist with hateful comments.

I think people have the right, however, of pointing out how problematic or horrible they think something is and why, maybe even in the comments as long as it is not death threats or something (Although of course the writer has the right to moderate comments). It is kind of stupid to be anti censorship only when it comes to the art and not the criticism.

People have the right to hate on a work or even a type of work as much as the artists have the right to write or draw it, but I have recently witnessed a lot of double standards on what is "acceptable" to critizice or hate on, and the original post gave the impression of going through that line of thought, that every kink is fine, but writers like the hetalia guy (Don't know what he wrote, don't care, the point stands) who use a racist rethoric in their story are crossing the line because that is "actually" harmful, as if implying fics that portray the rape of children in a positive light are not harmful, but the racist hetalia guy is, when at the end of the day both things are fiction, no one knows what the writer actually thinks is ok in real life, and both things should be free to critizice if people have issues with it. Hence me calling the subjects of race and gender "sacred". They are the two things people should be allowed to harrass you over according to many anti antis. "Hot" rape in fiction is fine, but the hetalia guy is going "too far" and "fuck him" according to these people.

I understand the subjects of race and gender can be sensitive in fiction, but so can other issues people are dismissing. Not everyone has the same life experiences. A commenter above wrote that romanticizing abuse is fine because most people know it is wrong and they just think it is hot in fiction. Maybe so, but what is harmless fun for some people can be taken very personally for others. Many people feel that others enjoy their traumatic experiences, which makes them feel terrible, and they have a right to express that outrage out loud even if it offends the anti censorship movement or the people who write the sort of fiction that is being criticized.

The hetalia writer may be super against racism in real life but want to explore it in fiction through the eyes of a sympathetic character because it may be interesting. We don't know why they wrote it. That doesn't mean he or she should be free from criticism, only that in my opinion, his work is not more outrageous than a lot of the stuff on ao3.

I am against censorship as much as anyone, and I don't actually comment on fics I have issues with myself, if I see something I think is discusting I leave the writer alone, but I am not going to hide that I hate the fetishization of rape and pedophilia that is prevalent in ao3, or that I don't see it as any different than racists using ao3 as an outlet instead of being vocally racist or violent in real life. Isn't that what anti antis are coming from anyways? That fiction doesnt affect reality and that it is better if it serves as an outlet for pedophiles instead of having them harm real childen?

You know, I was originally going to respond to this person with snark and flippancy. But then I do have to relent and say that me using the term ‘harmful’ in the original post when I really meant ‘inflammatory’ was my bad.

But… Even with me taking an L on my wording… I don’t get how the notion of ‘I don’t care if you write Zagreus getting done on all sides by the entire Greek Pantheon, I don’t care if you write some BakuDeku nonconsensual body-modifcation fic, I don’t care if you get off to characters from Genshin Impact NTR-ing each other… They are fictional? So that shit still isn’t hurting anyone? Saying shit like ‘Trans ppl, please go commit 43%’ or ‘Muslim people are all evil’ do effect real people?’ is hard to understand. 

‘Romanticizing abuse’… God, I wish I had the money to send a copy of Quills to everyone who pulls the whole ‘romanticizing abuse’ angle in regards to fictional work. Because, literally, unless you aren’t mentally sound, the average person can look at all the fucked up fanfics and smut and erotica and come out with ‘wow, that’s fucked up and/or kind of hot. Good thing it’s only fiction, though!’