#ao3 is so much like ye olden days and that’s why i love it

[alphacrone]

the longer i work in tech and software the more i long for the internet of the 2000s and software that isn’t subscription- or web-based

[borgeslabyrinth]

I know I'm like. Deeply sleep deprived. But I wasn't expecting Jenny Nicholson's video essay on the final brony con to make me tear up, especially since I was never a brony and only had negative impressions of the fandom, but here we are.

[skibasyndrome]

20 Questions For Fic Writers

Thank you so much @darktwistedgenderplural, @wilmonsfolklore, @iwouldnevergetintofanfic & @earlgrey-lateatnight for tagging me in this!!!! This is so much fun!!! ����💜💜💜💜

How many works do you have on Ao3?

17! (but only 12 of those "count", the other 5 are 6+ years old)

What's your total Ao3 word count?

107,628

What fandoms do you write for?

Young Royals

Top five fics by kudos

You crave the Applause / Yet hate the Attention

Lavender Haze

It's in the water, baby

Never Letting You Go

Close, Closer

Do you respond to comments?

Yessssss, I really want to reply to every comment I get because I appreciate people taking their time to write them a lot, but sadly I've been super busy this semester and so there are quite a few still waiting to be responded to. But!!! I've seen them, I have and continue to feel over the moon about them and some day you'll all get your replies!

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

If we're only talking about the current fandom... none? I don't think I've ever given anything an angst ending. I don't even know if I'd be able to do that with Wilmon

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

By that logic, all the rest lmao. I think the ending that made me personally most giddy/happy for my blorbos was probably Lavender Haze because the potential, the big feelings that don't have a name yet, the I-really-wanna-see-you-again of it all? Yeah that one feels the happiest.

Do you get hate on fics?

Not usually, no. Although I had one salty anon who apparently thinks writing about characters being attracted to each other qualifies as fetishizing the actors? Lot to unpack there.

Do you write smut?

Yepppp

Craziest crossover:

I don't think I've ever written anything that could be considered a crossover

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yeah, in the early days of me writing fics people would go around and just... copy a whole fic and post it to their blog instead?

Have you ever had a fic translated?

I get comments asking me if people can translate my fics, but I haven't seen a translation thus far, no.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nope! Would love to try it some time though

All time favourite ship?

Wilmon all the waaaaayyy

What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Ugh the list is so long. One thing that I'd LOVE to write but I'm just not sure I've got it in me worldbuilding-wise is a fic where wilmon are ancient greek heroes to be

What are your writing strengths?

I've been told that "filth with feelings" is one of my strengths. Oh and some of my favorite compliments have been ones that said I was good at really getting into a character's (let's be real, it's Wille's) psyche

What are your writing weaknesses?

How long do you have lmao? Idk where to start, hmm. I think I just always question myself and every choice a little too much in general, I have a very weird mix of perfectionism and impatience going on, I start too many new things before old ones are finished, my English isn't as good as it could be, I don't know when to stop rambling...

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

I really don't see why you wouldn't use it. I think it's a nice little touch, at least I like it a lot on YR fanfic. It needs to make sense of course, but why not have a casual little "nej" somewhere, I think that's fun!

First fandom you wrote in?

One Direction, in ye olden days (2012) lol

Favourite fic you've written?

Oh this is difficuuuuult, aaaaah. But tbh I like Lavender Haze and the sequel All this shit is new to me a lot. Those are my sweet, sweet babies, because, I think I've said this before, this is my first multichaptered Wilmon fic that isn't "just" pwalp (=porn with a little plot) and I feel like I get to try myself out a lot with All this shit. I like the process of writing it and as for Lavender Haze, there are just some tiny elements in there that I feel immensely proud of.

I'm gonna (very much no pressure) tag @grapehyasynth, @oneofthosebells, @toffeelemon, @goldenwilmon & @piebingo and anyone else who sees this and hasn't been tagged yet (and if I'm double-tagging, apologies!) 💜

[abarbaricyalp]

Author Question Tag Game Thing

Thank you so much for the tag @cobrafantasies !!!!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

131 (ElisabethMonroe)

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

863,403

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Marvel/SamBucky (I've got a few Buddie WIPs languishing)

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

The Truths Beneath Our Ribs The North American Superhero in a Domestic Situation Tying Me to You (never) Lost In Translation A Conversion of Worry and Love All fics I wrote while the show was airing. Please, casual fans, come back

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes! But I am so behind right now :/

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Probably My Sunshine. I was rude with that ending. Though Stained and Sun Burst may give it a run for its money.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Hmmm. Most of my fics have pleasant endings. Maybe Until The Last Rose?

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Knock on several pieces of wood, no. I've never gotten hate on a fic. Please, nobody take this as a challenge.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes. I've discovered the hilarious pattern in my writing where Bucky is nigh on constantly giving Sam a bj. It's what Sam deserves. Other than that, I hope my smutty scenes are kinda sappy and lovey, for the most part.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

For my own personal enjoyment, yeah. I came into fandom with SuperWhoLock, so there was a lot of cross over there and I write a Raven Cycle/X-Files crossover when I'm bored or unmotivated.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Hopefully not, but I used to get prompts stolen a lot when I RP'd back in ye olden days.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Maybe. A few people have asked, but never followed up. I totally get it. That's a lot of work.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not necessarily as a co-author, but I've done Bangs and had betas/artists that were essential to the process.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

Y'all know I love me some SamBucky, but I do hold onto MorMor still. It just scratches the itch in my brain.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

So many. I think the one I most want to write but have the least confidence in finishing it is a Sam/Steve/Bucky Hunchback of Notre Dame AU. It's set in a future-Hydra Won world and has assassin and spy intrigue and so many identity issues

16. What are your writing strengths?

I always say dialogue on this question and I always hope it's true.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

1) Remembering to describe things, but I think if I have time I'm pretty good at going back and filling in the gaps. 2) Getting out of the research phase. I love to read about things and make as full of a story as possible, but I often spend so long doing that, I either lose confidence or lose interest in the actual writing.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

If you've read (never) Lost in Translation, you'll know I'll use it. If you read the comments on that fic you'll also know I'm bad at it and it takes a village.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Technically Twilight but I don't really count that. Really really officially, it was Sherlock/MorMor.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

Currently it's Tell It to the Bees (and the birds). I also really like A Time for Dancing and i found something in the woods somewhere

Please, anyone who wants to do this, do so! I love reading responses to these kinds of things!

[according2thelore]

i absolutely adore your fics. do you guys happen to have a patreon or anything? i would love to support your writing (hope this isnt weird LOL)

hi!!

this isn’t weird at all—that’s so incredibly kind of you!! ��

not only do i not, i legally can't—profiting from fanfic is illegal. i was doing research on this, bc i know kofi pages are (or at least were in the ye olden days when i was on tumblr back in 2013) really popular for fanfic authors. but AO3 can remove you if you put kofi or patreon links in your author’s notes & profile because it violates their terms of service.

it seems weird/an annoying double standard that fan artists can profit and commission fan works but writers can’t? i get why profiting off another IP is not good, but art is cool i guess? but every source i can find just says “legal precedent” so :/

not to mention i would feel weird taking y’all’s money! we're hanging out! i am the funny little guy in your phone/computer!

so in honour of our wincest forefather naomi novik (cofounder of AO3 and advocate for the people), i shall keep our page monetarily free (although i guess charlotte could do commissions if that’s something she feels up to doing one day!) also i might do fic commissions for charity (you would donate directly to a charity) at some point!

i don't do a ton of original work atm, but if i ever do, i'll let you know about a patreon/kofi!

thank you for wanting to support me, anon! it was very kind of you to ask! ☺️💛 and THANK YOU for liking my fics!!! 🥺 that means the world to me. if you want to support, keep sending lovely messages (this message made my morning!) or engage with fanfic i’ve posted! that's more than enough for me! sending so much love! mwah!

-lizzy

[simon-x-billy]

Simon x Billy

Year of the OTP: June

Chapter 6: Where’s the helipad?

June prompt: Soulmates

AN: Enjoy the sweet sweet sounds of helicopter blades slicing through the air. I love the helicopter scene so much. It is happy-making. It just makes me love both of them for each other. (Let's ignore the fact that I wrote it.)

We are so close to the sex, guys. So close. This is the last SFW chapter for a while. Bask in the virginal dude-bro vibe, and let people know that you read the chapters before they were cool.

TW: Rewrites. Mystifyingly late posts. Drunkenness. If alcohol is triggering for you, no need to read the last teeny section after we first meet Barry. Rest assured that Simon gets home safely and says cute stuff, then happily goes to bed.

Masterlist || ao3 || Prev || Next

————/Simon/————

I am trying to stop thinking about falling to my death. Give me a minute.

Ok, so this is…………This is a long flight of fucking rickety, wind-blasted wood. Not like that metal set of stairs with all the switchbacks I was complaining about last time I encountered stairs. I take all of my complaints back about that place. That was the height of stair-building technology by comparison. This place is just…..language fails me, like I’m picturing the stairs failing me any second now.

Shush, I need to concentrate.

———���/-/————

Oh my fucking god. I can’t breathe. Metaphorically kissing the ground due to sheer survival has become a feature of my stay here. Just cuz I survived. So much ground kissing happening in Italy. Especially near stairs.

So from the size and schmanciness I’m guessing this place was either for a huge schmancy family, or hardcore party animals needing lots of bedrooms (the olden days version). This coastline has been a summer getaway spot for centuries. Scratch that. For millennia. What, like maybe three thousand, four thousand years?

But actual beaches are rare here. Anybody with two inches of it will stick a beach umbrella in it. So imagine owning an entire beach. Right? Beside the hotel, the only other possible access is from the water. And there are a lot -- I mean a lot of yachts around here. They will never, ever look normal to me. But they’re starting to look like a normal thing around here. And I’m told these aren’t even the big ones. Fuck me sideways.

Both shots are from the website of the actual Hotel La Tonnarella, which is the hotel I based my fictional hotel on. Yes, it really looks like that. Yes, I did stay there. Totally worth going into debt. Best decision I’ve ever made. You can faintly see the stairs, at left. It’s that pale diagonal line down the cliff from the hotel at top left down toward the beach, crossing right in front of that ruin in the middle, halfway down the cliff.

Anyway, we’ve seen the (only) road and there’s definitely no place for me to do my morning run. It doesn’t even have a shoulder. I guess if I can’t run without going airborne off a cliff, I could do the steps when I wake up. Better than nothing. It’s just-

Well, we’ve seen that I hate stairs. Steep stairs. Cliff stairs.

Fuck. Besides being terrifying, it was tiring just getting down here. What am I going to do when I have to go back up?

Anyway, Billy’s working down here today. And I really feel like disrupting his job well done.

“Will yeh take a look at yer man now. Down the beach, explorin,” he calls, as I approach the hotel’s tiny beach bar. “You didn’t take the stairs, did yeh?”

“Um, yeah? Certo. I wanted to see the beach.” Obviously.

“Why didn’t yeh take the lift?” he asks me.

I fix the man to his spot with a very frowny, very deep, “Would you mind repeating that, Billy?” Exactly like if Kronk was playing me in the movie. I can barely see through my eyes that have now narrowed to slits of disbelief and distrust and discomfort. “There’s an elevator?”

“Well, yeah man. How else are people meant to get down here? The cliff’s a dangerous way down, innit?”

It’s ok, Lewis. You can incorporate this new information without flipping out. Just be proud of yourself for facing your fears. You descended steep, unsafe stairs. Good job! And you were only vaguely terrified the whole time. Good job!

“Is the cliff so dangerous that they should close it down due to the mounting death toll? Or is it only dangerous in an inoffensive, cute way?”

He huffs out a quick laugh, then returns to slicing up lemons.

“Billy? That was an actual question. Care to provide an answer?”

“Meh, it’s safe enough,” he says. And that, ladies and gentleladies, is all I need to convince me I can indeed use this as my new Italian Morning Exercise. 1. Cliff, 2. Coffee, 3. Cliff, 4. Vomiting coffee. Perfect.

————/-/————

I’ve spent all this week forging a grudging relationship with the beach stairs.

I’m getting a little more accustomed to it. I have a few specific stones and broken twigs I’ve chosen as landmarks, whenever I require reassurance that I am indeed climbing down the right cliff. And if I’ve survived it the last four mornings, I can survive it a fifth time. Flawless reasoning.

Behind the beach bar, Billy spots me and gives me a wave. “You packed, man?”

My insides instantly start fizzing. I am so fucking stoked. I got us an airbnb in Naples for the weekend so we can check out Sabina’s gig tomorrow night. Billy could not say yes fast enough. He’s a social guy, and there’s not a lot of nightlife around here. I have no idea how he’s managed it all this time. Oh wait, that’s right. He’s managed it with women. Lots of women.

Over the last week, I’ve come to the realization that management does not mind a guest hanging out at the bar distracting their employee all day, because while that guest is distracting the employee, he is also ordering drink after frothy fruit-based drink, and healthy fruit-based foods. It’s like they’ve realized that my distraction of Billy might actually be lucrative for them. I even have my own barstool. Officially.

I have an announcement to make. “I have come to a decision,” I announce. “We need a convertible.”

“Sorry?”

“A convertible. We need one,” I repeat.

“Yeah, mate, heard yeh.”

“What, it’s a convertible!”

Billy remains unmoved. “Why can’t we take the train? It’s simplest-”

“We are not taking the train.”

“But I quite like the train,” he claims.

“Because you’re insane and don’t like convertibles.” J’accuse!

“See now, I never said I don’t like convertibles. I-“ he begins.

But I totally interrupt him. “I need to go do something.” Because my brain just exploded with potential.

“What?” He might be alarmed.

Whereas I’m enthusiastic. “Be an Ugly American.”

“Er, that sounds terrible,” he says.

“If you’re gonna be American, you might as well own it. Watch me own it, Billy, watch me.”

Oddly, Billy still looks wary. “That sounds-”

“Awesome.”

“-terrible. You’re not plannin to wear one of them caps with straws into beer cans, are yeh?” He snorts at whatever he’s picturing. “Actually, I might pay yeh to do that.”

“Nah. Not my brand,” I say, sliding off the barstool. I snag an olive and pop it in my mouth, to avoid grinning like someone who grins because they’re about to do something awesome. “Ciao, Beelee.” I wave behind me.

I’ve got the phone out and I’m already dialing before I’ve even reached the stairs. And then I remember I can also take the elevator.

———/-/———

Billy has finally met up with me at the fountain by the hotel entrance. Thank god, cuz I really don’t want him to miss the arrival of that Ugly American thing that required a phone call. Ever notice there’s an ugh in ugly? Just occurred to me.

“There you are, Delaney. MWAH hah ha ha hahhhhh! Prepare to hear the sweet sweet sound of helicopter blades pulsing through the air. It’s done, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.”

“Simon-”

“So where’s the helipad?” I inquire.

“The what now? Mate, it’s not that kind of hotel. Why are we taking a helicopter to Naples?”

“The correct response would normally be ‘because we can’-” Obviously. Certo.

“That is not a normal response.” Billy looks mystified, yet still amused. So that’s a thing.

“-but not this time,” I finish. “That’s not the real idea.”

“Oh, so you’re tellin me this is a superfluous helicopter. That is ugly.”

“No! It is most definitely not superfluous.”

“Your carbon footprint’ll be spendin all eternity in hell, man.”

“Billy.”

“Simon.”

“Stop talking. And just enjoy the mounting anticipation. The mellow sense of horror, or at the very least a nasty case of creeping dread. MWAH hah ha ha hahhhh!”

“Stop it, mate. You’re gettin evil genius all over my uniform. And you know how I feel about laundry.”

“Just a little bicarbonate of soda. Gets out even the most organic of stains. MWAH hah ha ha hahhhhh.”

“Simon.”

“Billy.”

“Stop talkin. Like an evil genius. We’re gettin complaints.”

“Are not.”

“From me. I’m complainin.”

“What am I going to wear?” I ask. It’s a fair question.

“Simon. Oh my god.”

“I’m serious! I packed for Italy in ten minutes. It’s all socks and shorts.” And sunblock. And chargers.

He’s shaking his head at me. For some reason, this makes me happy. In my tummy. How novel.

“Is that the fire alarm?” he asks.

“Huh? I mean, MWAH hah ha ha haaaah, oh no. What you’re hearing is the sweet sweet purring of a helicopter bearing my booty.”

“You didn’t think that one through, mate.”

“Oh, but yes, yes I did. This booty is worth baring. Can you feel it? The heady excitement of anticipation? The mellow terror?”

“Yes. I feel the terror,” he says blandly. He finds my terror bland.

Wait. “That would be the best cologne flavor ever. Mellow Terror, by Simon Lewis. Pour homme.”

“Are you manic right now?”

———/Billy/————

I was joking, but Simon just went very still. I’ve put my foot in, haven’t I?

“I am a bit manic, am’nt I?” he offers, tossing off a fake laugh.

“Somethin wrong with your shoes, mate? Simon, man, my eyes are up here.”

“Just wait til you see what I’ve done,” he says sheepishly, eyeing me from under his furry eye caterpillars.

“Simon. Should I be worried?”

“Oops?”

Oops? I haven’t a clue what to do with oops.

He grabs me excitedly by the forearm and starts dragging me toward the hotel gates.

That’s…Wait, is that-

“Simon. Did you buy a Mini Cooper?”

“A convertible Mini Cooper.”

“But why?” I ask the reasonable question.

“Because I can!” He’s practically vibrating. I can tell he wants to do his jumping-clapping thing by the way he’s currently bouncing on his toes.

“Simon.”

“Billy.”

“You bought a Mini Cooper. Convertible,” I swiftly add. “You’re in the land that built the Maserati, the Lamborghini, the Ferrari, and every other sports car that ends in i-”

“Not Audi.”

I huff in annoyance, “-and you bought a convertible Mini Cooper. And had it airlifted here. Because you could.”

“I’ve always wanted a convertible Mini Cooper.”

“But not a convertible Ferrari,” I clarify.

“No.”

“Who are you?”

“I’m awesome,” he answers, because he’s Simon.

I decide not to mention that we could have skipped the car altogether and taken the helicopter to Naples.

This is so childish, and impetuous, and reckless, and I refuse to find the actions of a grown man adorable. Jaysus.

“Oh my god!” he squeaks. “They were driving Minis in The Italian Job!!!”

Shaking my head. Just shaking my head. “Did you have them airlift in some clothes, too?”

“Shit! I totally should have!” He appears to actually mean that.

“You should see your face,” he hoots. Feckin hoots, all half bent over from laughin.

And now he’s ignoring me. Suddenly I’m not even here. He only has eyes for his Mini. “Oh my god it’s so kawaii.”

His smile is kawaii.

“Go away,” he flaps a hand at me. “I want to fanboy freely and without judgment from a judgy Irishman.”

“Fine. I need to pack anyway.”

And off behind me I hear him call, “Wait! What am I gonna wear?”

Shaking my head. Just shaking my head.

————/-/————

I’ve gathered my gear, and I can see Simon out by the car park. I’m hitching up my pack, so it isn’t really until I’ve cleared all the foliage that I realize Simon is humping his Mini Cooper convertible. “All right?” I ask, tryin to keep a straight face.

“Oh, yes. All is definitely right,” he purrs.

“Have you turned her on, too?”

He slides off the car til his Converse hit the pavement with a slap.

Now he’s draping himself over the boot. I can’t help it that I’m laughing. Sometimes he hits me just right to set me to belly laughin. Doesn’t happen often with Simon, but when it does, he wears the greatest surprised happy face I’ve ever seen. This time there’s giggling. Off to a good start, which is good. Yes. Good.

I hesitate. “Look, mate. Will this thing actually fit us?” I eyeball the car. “I am quite seriously concerned that we might actually need the top down to ride in this thing. How tall are you, anyway?”

“Six feet. Why? How tall are you?”

“Mate, get off the boot so I can shove this in there and we can go.” He does, and I do.

I have to say it, “Thanks for not getting the red, white, and blue one.” There is a god. Thank you, Poseidon.

“They were out of orange, white, and green, too,” he says with regret.

“You asked about the tricolor, did yeh?” Alright yes, he’s got me laughin again. Simon Lewis. Driving the Irish flag.

“Fuck out of the driver’s seat!” he’s suddenly roaring.

Blimey. He looks proper angry. I may have just flinched. “Don’t you want a car and a driver? No, serious, don’t yeh want me to drive, since I know the way?”

“Get the fuck out of the driver’s seat, Billy. Now!”

“Alright! Fine, fine. You’ll be usin GPS then, will yeh?”

“Si si si, certo.”

I groan. “This is all about to go so very-”

“Awesome,” he declares. “This is all about to continue to be awesome. Be the change, Billy. Be the change!”

“Oh my god Simon.”

“I can hear you rolling your eyes from here,” he says from behind the boot, which he slams shut a little too hard. I feel it in every moving piece of this tiny automobile. Bigger than a SMART car, so I suppose I shouldn’t be complainin.

Well, here’s hoping he’s still so enthused about it at the other end. “Gotta say, mate. I’m surprised you’d want to drive at all.”

“Why not?” he’s askin.

“Because mate, it’s Italy, innit. Famous for frightenin foreign drivers.” He has to remember what the drivin was like on our three other trips down this road. “Well,” I sigh. “At least you get to drive on the ‘right’ side of the road in Italy.”

—--/-/—--

“See? I told you you’d fit.”

“Alright man, you did,” I admit to the muppet.

“Come on, give it up…”

“What?” I’m not laughing, I promise. “Is she a smooth ride? I don’t know, man, why don’t yeh start her up ‘n find out?”

“Well there is that. So yeah,” he says as he pulls out of the car park and up to the mouth of the hotel driveway. “It’s to the left, right?”

“Em, yeah. Yes, the city of Naples is still in the general direction of left. Like the other three times we’ve done this road together.”

He rolls his eyes, and all is right and well with the world. Until the moment he pulls out onto the road. Then I’m brought up quick by the realization that between us we know fuck all about the convertible Mini Cooper. “Wait, where’s the GPS on her, for the flat’s address?”

“I dunno, check the screen thing.” So helpful, yer man Simon is.

“Do you even have an Italian driver’s license? Or insurance? I love this guy. How’ve yeh managed to live this long?” I pause for an answer, but none is forthcoming. “I mean, fucksake, Simon. You called someone to buy you a car and suddenly you’re on the road to Naples. Do you even know where the directionals are? Or like, the wipers? Should I be concerned for my safety?”

“Shoosh. Don’t jinx us,” he sternly admonishes me. “Do you need to have registration in Italy? Or insurance? I don’t know. Italy doesn’t really strike me as a big insurance-y type of country.”

“Fair point. But I take it you have….whatever, I dunno, papers and all that?” How is he like this?

“Don’t know. What’s in the glove box?” He makes a flappy gesture in the general direction of my knees.

“How are you like this? Were you actually born like this, or did it come with fame and wealth?”

“You mean, was I actually born a flaming asshole, or just become one?”

“Meh. Yeah ok,” I shrug. “We’ll go with that. So, what’ll it be?”

“Ow. Straight for the throat, Delaney.” His tone is recriminating as he protects his throat with both hands. “Uncool, man. Uncool.”

I’m flipping through the owner’s manual. Before long I’ve programmed everything, located the GPS, found Simon’s Only In Italy playlist, and even found the button to pop the bonnet. “There you go. It’s workin now.” I toss the manual in the glove box.

“What’s working?” he asks.

I shrug. “Everything, man. Everything.”

He barks out a laugh, the grumpy fuck, and I realize I’m laughing as well.

I plug in the address for the flat and immediately the voice pumping out the speakers is a woman speaking Italian. So I’m maniacally fumbling with it again, while Simon drives on in a fit of laughter.

“Aw, come on! Let’s see how we do in Italian,” he gasps out.

“Fucksake. See how we do in Italian.” Shaking my head.

“No, seriously. Let’s hear what she has to say, this ummmmm, what should we call her - Maria! Because obviously.”

“Certo.” That gets me another laugh.

“Santa Maria, Holy Madonna, show us the way, in Italiano,” Simon pleads in a truly horrendous Italian accent. “I am so happy right now.”

He says it with a laugh. Such a thing to so easily roll off the tongue. Fella I met a few months ago, I never would have pictured bein happy, let alone noticing it, naming it, declaring it. Nice to see. Unexpected, know what I mean?

“I don’t trust you when you’re quiet that long, Delaney.”

“Hm?”

“Exactly.”

Am I missing something?

“Ok, so.” He clears his throat. “We know who I am. Who are you? Let’s hear it. Who is Billy Delaney?”

Aw, man. Serious? “How long we got?” Please don’t make me.

“How would I know?” he shrugs. “Maria’s speaking your language, not mine.”

“Fair enough.” I hit play, hoping the music will make the conversation trail off from there. But of course it doesn’t, because this is Simon. Si. Certo.

“What. Do you have some horrible second identity thing going on? Are you really even Irish? Truth time, Delaney.”

“You show me yours, I’ll show you mine?”

“Yeah, ok,” says the cheeky monkey.

“Oh,” I answer, not sure how else to dodge Simon’s inquisition. Uh, erm….. “Soooo, what mate? What do you want to know?” I ask, though truthfully I wish he’d just let it go.

“Is your name really Billy Delaney, and are you actually even from Ireland at all?”

“Yes.”

“Boring.”

“Brief,” I counter.

“Obtuse,” he counters.

“Si.”

“Oh my god, Billy. So where are you from?”

“Ireland.”

He looks around us rapidly. “Is she going to start speaking Italian? Cuz we just passed Ercolano.”

“Already?”

“Yeah! I know, right? Time flies when you’re torturing someone for information. So should I panic?”

“Nah,” I reassure him. “We've a bit more road before we turn aside. Maria can sleep on.”

“Alright. But I swear to God, Billy. If you don’t start coughing up some details, I'm serious, I will pull this car over. Do I have to pull this car over, young man?”

“Wow, that’s forceful.” Cos it is. “Ow!” I flinch when he swats my shoulder with a backhand. “Fine, ye bastard. My name is actually Lola, but I go by Billy Delaney. And I’m only mostly joking. One of the summer cousins I used to play soccer with couldn’t say William when we were little. So for a few months every year, I was Lola. There. Was that not juicy enough for yeh?”

“Charming. But from that I got these few details: 1. You have cousins. Conceivably fertile ground. We could continue that way. 2. You play soccer, and you call it soccer. Isn’t that illegal outside the US? No- don’t answer that. I’m not finished. 3. You go someplace where there are cousins to play soccer with in summer. Are we even still in Ireland?”

Em. I just sort of sit here and wait.

“And you really don’t want to talk about this, do you?”

“You are so easily distracted,” I tease. “No, but seriously, here’s some details for yeh. I’m 27. Left Ireland at 18, after graduating culinary school, and was sent out to do my apprenticeship. That was at a manor house near Galway,” I say, wrapping up the conversation.

“And…..”

“That’s not enough?” I thought that was a fair bit of information, to be honest.

“Do I have to turn this car around, young man?”

“I fear I might be missin some essential cultural reference here, mate.”

“Don’t distract me with your distractions, Delaney. Feed me.”

And that’s when Maria tells us to turn left.

—--/Simon/—--

I can’t fuckin believe that there are Irish pubs in Italy. Nor can I believe I’m in one. I mean, where do real Italians go to watch soccer? This can’t be right.

“All right?” Billy asks the bartender.

“Howeyeh,” says the man back to him, and Billy’s eyes go comically wide.

Next thing I know, I’m bored stiff, pretending to find the intricacies of European football interesting with a Welsh guy named Barry.

And whoa, turns out Billy’s day-to-day accent is pretty washed out in comparison to the thickness of his accent when he’s speaking to his new BFF. They’re speaking so fast that I can’t understand a word through their accents and grammatical errors. Welsh is so much easier.

That is, until I hear a voice disturbingly similar to Billy’s, requesting a Bud.

I swing back around in time to see Billy’s new BFF nod at him and begin turning toward the draft beers.

“No! Wait,” I wave. “He’s only joking,” I say, emphatically shaking my head no.

“Oh,” the Irish bartender looks back to Billy in surprise. “Were you?”

What, he thinks I’m lying? “Course he was! Certo.”

“Why ‘of course’?!” Billy turns on his barstool to face me. “What the fuck, Simon?”

“Sorry if I fucked up your joke, dude, but don’t drag it out, ok?” I say under my breath.

Disparaging other people’s beer of choice is like a national pastime in Brooklyn, because it frequently employs irony, and we are naturally good at it from birth. Don’t blame him, he’s new.

“I’ll take that Bud,” Billy reiterates. “Ta, mate.” The barkeep returns his nod and goes about the business of it.

“Billy? We’ve talked about this. You swore you’re Irish. Were you lying to me? Are you a lying liar who lies?”

“Why do yeh say that?”

“Because you can’t – you’re not – you’re not, like, allowed to drink bad beer when you’re Irish. Isn’t that illegal? Or fatal, or something?”

The big ape is just lazing back against the bar, sipping his pint of piss beer, looking at me in amusement.

“You’re like a caricature of yourself sometimes, Simon, d’yeh know what I mean?”

“Fuckin- What?! That’s not very nice! I’m outraged.”

“You should see yerself, mate. Yeh look like your face is about ready to split down the middle and outrage’ll start pourin out like lava from the fissures.”

I stop and cock my head at him. “That was both specific and descriptive. Nice one. But that said, how dare you! I demand an apology.” I’m trying really hard to keep a straight face. He has no intention of making it easy for me.

“Apologize? For what?” He gives me a cock-eyed grin. Oh look, his cock eyes are doing that twinkly thing again.

“You have offended my good taste and have let down your countrymen and native soil. Or water or whatever it is that makes all beer taste better in Ireland. The least you could do is the decent thing and apologize to your countrymen, and me, and then hide it in your jacket where no one can see you sneaking sips!”

He laughs because he thinks I’m joking.

“Do you just not like beer at all? And that’s why you don’t order the good stuff?” I prod.

“Simon, you are such a snob,” he says, and goes right on twinkling.

“Correct. And if you’re going to drink cheap beer, for god’s sake, order PBR and salvage at least some of your self respect.”

“Do you know this man?” the bartender asks Billy. “Is he harassin yeh?”

Billy is now laughing so hard that he’s almost fallen off his stool.

“We know each other,” I reassure the barkeep. “Don’t know how long that’ll last, all considered, though. Check back for updates.” I raise my pint of Guinness in respect.

“It’s czech. Budvar,” the man informs me.

“Ah, no! Why’d yeh tell him, mate!” Billy raises his hands theatrically. I’m telling you, theatre school. “Yeh just had to put him out of my misery, yeah?”

“And my misery,” says the man.

—--/-/—--

Ok, so what is it with the whole pub drunkenly singing “oh-ay-oh-ay” at the top of their drunken lungs, sloshin beer out of their pint glasses, whenever Europeans play soccer. Mebbe they sing it in Southmerica, too. Butwhatevercuz I don’ really care.

If you can’t – beat em then join em. Thassmymott, um, -o. Thassmy motto. Motto.

Where’s Billy? I can’t see him. If thissperson would get out of the frickin way. He’s all backed up against my face’n I can’t see. Anything. Nothin to see here, folks. Move along, people, move along.

Where’s Billy? Oyeah, right right right. Right here in my face.

I figure it’ll be easier to keep track of him if I hold onto his belt loop. Or a pocket or something. Yeah, I’m just gonna hang on to his pocket.

Pocket.

I like the word pocket. Lossa hard consnits that pop. Pop.

Pop.

I like the word pop. It sounz like it pops. And it’s the same backwards and forwards an’itsall about the lips. Pop ’ing.

What? Where’s he going? I’m trailing after him with my hand in his pocket. He keeps pullin it out and I keep puttin it back in. Oth’wise I’m gonna get lost and then where would I be? Huh? I wouldn’t even know!

“Oh! Now I know where we are! We’re on the block where we’re were where gonna sleep.” If make it up th’stairs. But Billy’s helping. He’s nice like that.

“You’re nice like that,” I say with a big smile. “And you‘re funny lookin.”

Wait.

“Oops! I mean yerlookin funny at me right now. Whass funny? ‘m’I funny? ‘r’Juss funny lookin?”

I crack myself up. Like in real life, cuz I’m laughing. Right now. Sometimes iss hard to stop laughing but I’ll be ok.

“Billy. Billy! Hey, Billy. What’re you doing? Tryin to get in my pants? That tickles! Oh, hey! Did we win? I mean, I don’really care - just wonren.”

Hey! Tickles! “Stop that! How’dyou know I don’t wanna wear those? I’ll take ‘em off when I feel like it. Prollymaybe take ‘em off tomorrow. Hey! I was wearing that! And that!”

He’s very pushy. “You’re very pushy. Stop pushing!”

I land on the bed and it’s like fluffy clouds of teddybears. “K, fine. I’ll go to bed, jeez.” Alls I wanna do is bury my face in pillow, but can’t breathe when I do that.

“Don’t close the door all the way, Ma. And leave the hall light on, K? g’Night, love you too.”

————/-/————

Masterlist || ao3 || Prev || Next

————/-/————

[sabineelectricheart]

Song of the Caged Bird

Summary: Cupid has only one thing for herself in her prison, her singing. Her captor takes that away, too.

Rating: M - Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16 with non-explicit suggestive adult themes, references to some violence, or coarse language.

Words: 1000

Notes: The tag on AO3 was so lonely that I felt that it was a waste. So, here we are.

Cupid cried, kept quiet, slept and sang.

Every day was the same for her. The sun rose and fell from the sliver of a horizon that could be seen from her window, in a place that she does not know where it is, exactly. In fact, everything in these last few years is strange and hazy at best, and no-one was interested in walking her through the timeline of events. Not that there was anyone to talk to, anyways.

He left her in a cute little room underground, which served essentially as a holding cell, and said he would be back as soon as possible. It has been some seven sun cycles since then, but she is not holding her breath. It was lonely, but she could appreciate the silence.

There was little to do, though. He had taken away her bow and arrow, which she had been able to steal back, and there is not much in the way of entertainment in this new world. It reminded her of her earliest years as a goddess, back to the times of the Bonfire of Vanities. Things are strange and she longs for the life she has known as human.

Cupid is allowed some concessions, though, as she is allowed to retain artifacts from the times before. He wanted her to play with the expensive items he brought and preserved for her until he came back, so that she would not be too bored and remember him.

Yes, it was incredibly nice to be surrounded by things to remind her of him. Even if it hurts to see love and happiness and electricity shown on the screen, even if it came at a too steep of a price.

So, she sang and sang, to escape reality. It had been a habit she had picked up during her centuries of godly cloister, a habit she had not been compelled to follow on in the seven years she lived in Los York.

She closed her eyes and dreamed that she was free again. She wished to be free when she was singing, just like in the olden days. Singing was her only key to escape from him, from this place, and she wanted to protect it no matter what.

Alas, she could not.

"I will be right back, I promise." He kissed her lips with a deceiving softness and hugged her firmly.

Cupid started singing as soon as she heard the door closing. She closed her eyes and dreamed, unaware of him.

He listened to the woman for a long time. Did she always sing like this? Why did she not sing when he was with her? Is this why his soul, before he was awakened to his true nature, felt so connected with her? It is like the sirens of the Odyssey, it is sweet perdition in song form.

She just proved to him that she indeed is an actual goddess. Not the sort of grotesque creature, like Minerva, or self-aggrandizing fools, like Jupiter. A goddess from the legends that Aristotle taught him many millennia ago. One with actual powers and abilities, with potentialities, and not merely the representation of a meaningless feeling that floated in weaker hearts and minds.

Alexander was enthralled.

"My beautiful, divine goddess. My queen, my precious goddess."

The moment that Cupid heard his ecstatic voice, she stopped and started to tremble. How could she be so careless?

"Why do you never sing while I am around?” The blond man wonders aloud and opens the shut door. “You are a shy, so shy goddess, trying to withhold this gift from your Basileus."

He enters the room again, sat down on a chair and took the woman on his lap, snaking his strong arms tightly around her waist. He grabs her face with pure admiration and caresses her hair.

"Your shyness makes me so wild, my goddess, I can barely contain myself. I scarcely believe that you had this gift all this time and never deigned to mention it, even once. How could you hide it from me?” He wonders, with just a tint of rage lacing his voice.

“Dominus, I…” Cupid choked, but words would not leave her throat.

Alexander held up a hand, demanding her silence. He smiled, one that, in all objective metrics, should be just like the one which she once loved more than life itself. Alas, this man did not seem like himself, it was a twisted smile, tainted with blood, violence and obsession. None of the innocence she came to love, all gone to never return.

“I care not for excuses, and it does not matter. Now, sing for me." He demands, lust taking over his eyes. "Sing for me, my goddess."

"Please, please do not do this." She cried.

"Why are you crying? Are you too shy to sing?" He kissed her lips.

"It was my only way to…" She sobbed. He stopped holding her face and rested her head on his shoulder. "You cannot have it. You have so much, and I…!"

"Shh. It is perfectly fine if you are not ready, yet.” He consoles, patronizing. “We have all the time in the world and you can sing for me later."

"N-no!" She tried to get away but he held her tight. "Let me go!"

"My shy little goddess needs to be comfortable enough, that is all. Do you understand me?” His hold on her waist tightens uncomfortably. “You are too shy, which is why you are acting like this."

"No, I want to go. I want to be free!" She cried and sobbed over and over again.

Cupid felt cornered, as if her entire existence was now over. His hands running through her hair and waist made she shudder. She felt like a trapped pet, crying and begging for a mercy that would never come, praying for a god that has already been slaughtered.

"Quiet, I am here." Alexander lovingly kissed the top of her head.

She screams in despair.

*_*_*_*_*

Cupid Parasite Masterlist

[nottonyharrison]

writing tag game~

thank to @ejunkiet for the tag!

how many works do you have on Ao3? 

102, some of which are art or multimedia compilations

what’s your total Ao3 word count?

365,868. Over 120k are from this year 😬

aaand now for the cut

what are your top 5 fics by kudos? (I’m not going to include anything mediavengers related in this as they’re mostly not fic and when they are it’s metafiction)

Not Allowed (888) MCU, Tony/Steve, Tony/Rhodey an ancient rule63 Tony fic that barely scraped over 1.5k words and I can’t believe people still give kudos to from time to time because I was a Bad Writer™ back then

A Bit of Reciprocity (868) Good Girls, Beth/Rio

The Flood I Saw Just Yesterday, Today, and Tomorrow (624) Good Girls, Beth Rio, the infamous pegging fic

Hazy Shade of Winter (599) Good Girls, Beth/Rio

Officially/Unofficially (588) MCU/HP crossover, Hermione/Tony. Again, no idea why people still read this and kudo it occasionally. Have definitely considered orphaning it.

do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I try and respond to every comment, I tend to go through once every week or two and do them all at once. Sometimes I just mark them as read if I have no response (or am not sure how to infer what the commenter’s saying which has happened a couple of times recently), or if it’s just like ‘I love [ship]’ or someone’s comment on a character that has nothing to do with the fic itself because... IDK as much as I try to appreciate every comment that type more just get my hopes up when I see the email notification and then I’m like oh. No actual comment on the fic then. Cool.

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

Well this is an exercise in fic deep diving! I have no idea, really? Definitely something from ye olden days.

Recently,  Equilibrium

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

How long is a piece of string?

Errrr... I was going to say Good People, but then I remembered about  Stop, Reset and was like... yeah that one

do you write crossovers?

I’ve written a few, all for HP fic exchanges.

have you ever received hate on a fic?

Oh yeah. I was on FFN for years, of course. Always to do with ship wars.

More recently, I had a lot of hate over The Pegging Fic, and just a bunch of other generalized anon trash in my inbox every now and then.

do you write smut? if so, what kind? 

Nah, never 🤣

I have no idea how to quantify the kind of smut I write. If anyone has any idea, let me know.

have you ever had a fic stolen? 

Lol, no I have not had that honour. You have to actually write things people want to read for that to happen.

have you ever had a fic translated? 

Yes! Someone translated a flash fiction I wrote years ago into Russian. I think it’s in the MCU A-Z somewhere? IDK it was years ago.

have you ever co-written a fic before? 

No, I think my writing style would be too contradictory for the vast majority of fellow authors.

what’s your all-time favourite ship? 

This is a joke question, right? I’ve been in fandom for over 20 years come on!

what’s a wip that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will? 

Dark Angel 2031, hands down. All my other WIPs that are abandoned are marked that way and I have no intention of ever revisiting them

what are your writing strengths? 

IDK... just general prose, I guess? And the ability to get it (mostly) right on the first draft and only needing a few edits.

what are your writing weaknesses? 

Keeping focussed, overuse of the word ‘just’, word repetition, impatience when it comes to posting, post-posting anxiety

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

I hate this as a reader, so I don’t do it in fic unless it’s a widely known word or phrase (whether it be IRL or in fandom). I’d rather put “how are you today,” they asked in French, than have someone need to read a translation in a footnote.

what was the first fandom you wrote for? 

The Fandom that Shall Not Be Named

what’s your favourite fic you’ve written? 

Probably Of Duty, just because it’s so intricately plotted and I’ve worked so hard keeping the continuity while foreshadowing a bunch of stuff, and kept up with the character threads despite them beign spread out across the galaxy.      

tagging - anyone who wants to share! Consider yourself tagged! Plus a few extras who I’d love to hear from @purgetroopercody @voxmyriad @parkotedarasuum @countessofbiscuit @ct-1994 @medievalraven @indiana-jackson

[akirasdigbick]

Hi there. I just discovered your Nightmares & Despairs AU and I love it! Can’t wait to see and read Nobori and Kudari fight monsters together plus other things that could happen like Unova possibly going up in flames! Also quick question though please! Who proposed first? Kudari or Nobori? Thanks so much! 💚

Hello! I'm glad to hear that you love the Nightmares & Despairs AU so far! I do plan to sketch a scene of the two fighting a monster sometime soon (maybe this weekend?). It'll just be under the submas tag only when I do ever get to posting the sketch(es).

I can try to write a story for the AU and post it on Ao3, but my writing is really only good for comics and storyboards so like 🙃.

You are also definitely not far off with the speculation of Unova going up in flames! The poor region becomes infected by the Frenzy Virus and everything regresses back to olden times via PLA style but more MH, (albeit there are some tidbits of technology here and there, but it's not much they can work with sadly). The population of both humans and Pokemon start to die off from the virus and those who survive the virus are seen as a danger to whatever is left of society.

And to answer the final portion of your question, Nobori was the first to propose. Below, is a more detailed yet short explanation of how the whole proposal ordeal went.

Poor dude was such a nervous wreck around Kudari the entire day. Kudari at first thought that Nobori was trying to break up with him and was just too nervous/scared to tell him. This speculation leads to an argument between the two.

Kudari tries to run off, but Nobori grabs his arm to stop him from running off and tell him that no, he's not going to break up with him and that the reason for why he was nervous around him the entire day was because he was trying to propose!

This leads to Nobori showing the engagement ring box to Kudari to prove it to him and then kneeling on one knee to propose to him, asking Kudari to marry him. Kudari starts crying at the sight and in turn causes Nobori to freak out and think that he messed up and shouldn't have proposed. Though Nobori's thoughts change when Kudari is suddenly hugging him tightly, tears falling and telling him a soft yes, yes I'll marry you. Nobori hugs back tightly and tears fall from his own eyes, happy with the answer he received.

[allwaswell16]

{Recently Read 1D Fics}

February 2021

These are all the One Direction fics I read and enjoyed in February. There are 16 recs here in all and are in order by word count and organized by pairing. You can also listen to my podcast to hear me talk about each of these fics as well as an overview of what was posted on ao3 in February! Please let the writers know if you liked the fics by leaving kudos and comments! Happy reading!

Fanfictional Podcast #22 | ko-fi | other fic recs

Larry

❤️ Still the One, @dandelionfairies​ (E, 51k, exes to lovers au, past cheating, post divorce, small town, kid fic, single father Louis, preschool teacher Harry, fate, fluff, smut, the softest past cheating fic you’ll ever read)

❤️ Frankly My Dear, I Don't Give a Damn, @mizzhydes​ / MsHydeStylinson (E, 45k, famous/not famous au, tattoo artist Louis, famous Harry, singer Harry, vacation, Los Angeles, NYC, Vegas, punk Louis, holiday fling, strangers to lovers, smut, happy ending, so much fun!)

❤️ Breakable Heaven, @daggerandrose​ / amomentoflove (E, 44k, Greek mythology au, Hades Harry, dark Harry, Persephone Louis, kidnapping, falling in love, smut, always in the mood for a good Hades/Persephone story!)

❤️ No Friends and An Empty Heart, @maelstromroots​ /  Maelstrom_Roots (E, 36k, Fleabag au, television series au, Fleabag Louis, hot priest Harry, guinea pig Niall (literally he’s a guinea pig lol), therapy, sex addiction, mentions of death, mentions of past suicide, angst with a happy ending, I’m obsessed with this fic it was so damn good)

❤️ You Left all your Dreams on the Threshing Floor, @londonfoginacup​ / LadyLondonderry (M, 26k, Marcel au, magazine, Manchester, fashion, journalism, bullying, past sexual assault, hurt/comfort, plot twist, i don’t want to give away spoilers but I was shocked)

❤️ Up, @slowlyseducedbycurls​ / Thingssicant (M, 26k, Up movie au, Clifford the dog, Charles Muntz, old age, period typical homophobia, adventure, balloons, minor character death, fluff, angst, happy ending, what a unique and sweet fic!)

❤️ as in olden days, @scrunchyharry​ (T, 18k, historical au, 1920s, Canada, British Harry, Canadian Louis, French, Christmas, winter, strangers to lovers, rich Harry, language barrier, holiday romance, New Year’s Eve, bed sharing, snowed in, mutual pining, so soft and lovely)

❤️ love put us two together (but we don't know how to stay), @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed​ / we_are_the_same (T, 10k, friends to lovers au, best friends, pining, five times fic, dreams, alternate universes, dream guides, dreams vs reality, light angst, Louis pov, absolutely loved this and got a little choked up)

❤️ Read My Lips, superglass (NR, 6k, 90s au, friends to lovers, famous/not famous, famous Louis, musician Louis, baker Harry, winter, London, Brit pop, getting together, Christmas, New Year’s Eve, pining, fluff, smut, such beautiful writing)

❤️ Event Horizon, @mercurial-madhouse​ / writing_practice (M, 4k, soulmate au, soulmarks, twin flames, angst, dark magic, hurt/comfort, implied sexual contact, curse, so intense omg)

❤️ It's All Mixed Up!, @mayflowersinapril​ / iamnotgroot (G, 2k, five times au, established relationship, long distance relationship, misunderstandings, humor, freight ship, surprises, so funny and cute!)

❤️ safer by your side, @polkadotlou​ / twoshipsdrifting (T, 1k, part 5 of where the lights are beautiful series, a/b/o, alpha Harry, omega Louis, established relationship, mention of heat, fluff, implied smut, an update to my fav a/b/o fic?? yes pls! this is emotional and made the back of my neck tingle)

❤️ Pound Cake, @kingsofeverything​ (NR, 1k, friends to lovers au, baker Harry, birthday, love confessions, baking, roommates, best friends, butthole series, lol this was both hilarious and emotional)

Gryles

❤️  sad sex is…no, @disgruntledkittenface​ (NR, 2k, fwb, angst, communication, getting together, smut, oof so much emotion for 2k!)

Lilo

❤️ bad luck to talk on these rides, @quelsentiment​ / wordsnnotes (G, 10k, Lilo friendship fic, established relationship with Zayn/Liam, friendship, developing friendship, platonic relationships, asexual Louis, family issues, 5 times fic, hurt/comfort, alcohol, fluff, humor, this fic made my heart so full)

Shiall

❤️ Get Burned By the Fire, orphan_account (NR, 12k, Niall/Shawn Mendes, fwb, based on Small Talk, bartender Niall, side Larry, loved this and the twist was so good)

[gallavictorious]

Gallavich Week Day 2: Fantasy AU

Summary: Prince Ian is offered up as a sacrifice to appease one of the dragons that haunt his father’s kingdom. Rather than being burned alive or eaten he is inexplicably left to wander the dragon’s lair in peace, as long as he never tries to leave and never enters the mysterious tower chamber. Then he meets fellow prisoner Mikhailo and starts to wonder if maybe this whole sacrificial gig isn’t such a bad deal after all.

Or, Ian Gallagher tells a bedtime story, and Mickey Milkovich is himself.

Fair Warning 1: There’s some Mickey-typical homophobic language in this one.

Fair Warning 2: I wrote all ridiculous 5K of this today (work? what work?) and it’s a little bit of a curious mess. Like, the sort of curious mess you get if you take Lip’s Hall of Shame, @gardenerian’s lovely bedtime stories, the novel “Dealing with Dragons” by Patricia Wrede, the Swedish picture book “Bröllop i Marsipanien” by Lena Karlin, the Greek myth of Andromeda, a bunch of folk tales about shapeshifting lovers, and the questionable old practice of MSTing fics, and then you stuff them all into a Kee and shake her around for a bit and then you pour it out into the shape of a 12 hour long and highly inadvisable speedwriting session.

Read it at your own risk, below or on AO3.

Very Important Note: I make fun of fic writing in this fic. Please note that I’m only making fun of myself and general tropes; any and all allusions to actual fic in the fandom is entirely coincidental.

---

Lest They Say, Here Be Dragons

Hush now, child; settle down. Close your eyes – yes, just like that – and listen:

Once upon a time and elsewhere, there was a kingdom. The people there were no happier than people anywhere else, and poorer than most, but they made do and lived and danced and grieved and died as people have always done.

Jesus, that’s gay.

That is, until the dragons came.

Okay, now you’re talking.

Like a plague they swept the land, winged beasts with fire for breath and ice in their hearts. Every night the fields burned, and the villages burned, and the cattle burned and was eaten. Many a brave people took up arms and went to confront the monsters, and then they burned too.

Heart-broken and terrified, the people went to the king to plead for aid. “Send an emissary to the dragons,” they said. “Reason with them and strike a bargain, or else we are sure to perish.”

What a bunch of pussies. What they should do is, they should use a bunch a cow shit to build a bomb and nuke the hell out of those dragons. Problem fucking solved.

Now, this king was a scoundrel and a drunk and the queen had an unfortunate habit of turning herself into a bird and flying off to more interesting lands whenever the mood took her. They had six children but rarely paid them any mind and fair Princess Fiona, eldest of the six, was left to raise her younger siblings as best she could. False King Francis would have been perfectly content to turn his desperate subjects away if it weren’t for the fact the dragons unchecked rampage threatened the production of the spirits the king so enjoyed. So, donning a mask of compassionate concern, for he was a skilled liar, he promised the people that he would help them. But as soon as they had left, comforted, he turned the task over to his children.

The second oldest child, foxy Prince Philip—

Foxy Prince Philip?

Yeah, you know. Foxy. Like clever.

Why not just say clever then?

‘Cause it’s not alliterative.

Alliter—

Starts with the same sound. Foxy – Philip. Fair – Fiona.

Oh, I get it. Like, Ian – idiot. Ow!

Foxy Prince Philip was known far and wide for being the cleverest in all the land, and by using all his cunning he managed to strike a deal with the leader of the dragons.

“By using all his cunning.” Skimming over the details a bit there, huh?

You really want me to turn this into a Prince Philip story? Hear me go on and on about what a genius he is?

…

Yeah, that’s what I thought.

It was agreed that the dragons would spread out over the kingdom, each one building their own place to live near a village, and that the villagers would bring them food and drink. In turn, the dragons would refrain from casual pyromancy and protect the villagers from harm.

Protection racket, huh. Classic. Starting to like these dragons, man.

In addition, the cruel leader of the dragons demanded that each dragon be offered a child of the land in sacrifice. No matter how Prince Philip bargained he could not change the dragon’s cold heart on this—

Guess he wasn’t so clever after all.

—and so, with heavy hearts and much lamenting, each village drew lots to determine which poor child would be sent as an offering to their new resident dragon. However, in the village nearest to the castle the people grew angry when the beloved blacksmith’s only child, a small girl of just four, was selected, and they went to the king and they said:

“It isn’t fair that some people are asked to give up their only child to appease the dragons while you, who have six children, are exempt from the lottery.”

King Francis, fearing an uprising as much as he feared the dragons (since each was as likely as the other to leave him without a drink), quickly nodded.

“That’s true,” he said. “And fairness must ever be the true monarchs first and most important concern. Though it breaks my heart, I can’t in good conscience watch my people sacrifice their own children without offering up my own. You may take Prince Ian and give him to the dragon.”

At this, the other princes and princesses raised their voices in furious protest, for they loved their brother even if their father did not. But industrious Prince Ian—

Industrious? That really the best you can come up with?

—stepped forward and declared that he’d be happy to give up his life, so that the child of the blacksmith might be spared. And so, as the sunt set, he was taken away to the lair of the dragon that had made its home near the castle.

So let me get this straight… The king is happy to toss Prince Ian to the wolves ‘cause he hates him, and his siblings are all sad and shit but they still let him go off to get fucking eaten by dragons?

Yes.

Uh-huh.

What?

…

Oh, fuck you. It’s just a story.

Totally.

Stepping into the lair, with heart a-hammering but on stubbornly steady legs, Prince Ian set eyes upon the beast that was to be his destiny. He was momentarily relieved to see it was not the terrible leader of the dragons, as he had feared, but a smaller monster he did not recognize. Black was its hide, its eyes a cold sparkling blue—

Gallagher, I swear to god, if you turn me into some lame ass henchman dragon—

Keep interrupting, asshole, and it’ll be a pink fucking unicorn. And hang on, you’ll show up in a little bit.

Setting his jaw, Prince Ian prepared to die a heroic death—

‘Course he did, the stupid motherfucker. Hey, if Prince Philip was so fucking smart, and if he gave a shit about his brother, shouldn’t he have given him, I dunno, a knife or something?

Prince Ian prepared to die a heroic death, because unlike some other people he was not a selfish prick and he actually cared about the people of the kingdom, but much to his surprise the dragon did not burn him. Instead, it just stared at him for a good long while, until suddenly it declared:

“You must never leave the lair, and you must never set foot inside the tower chamber. Abide by these rules and you may live. Break these rules and I’ll rip your heart out and eat it while you watch, and then I’ll burn the castle down with your beloved siblings inside.”   

You tell him, dragon.

With that the dragon took flight and disappeared, leaving Prince Ian to stand alone in the great hall of the lair, confused but alive. The young prince remained where he was for a few minutes, thinking that the dragon might come back, but when it did not he set out to explore his new home. It was big, with endless rooms and nooks and crannies, but it was badly kept, with strange bits and pieces cluttering up the hallways and chambers. Prince Ian found some old blankets and he used those to set up a pallet in one of the nicer rooms, one that had a view over a small, overgrown garden. And then, because it was very late and he was not dead, he went to sleep.

The next day he continued his explorations and managed to find the kitchen. It was full with the meat that the villagers brought the dragon once a month, and remembering that the beast had only forbidden him from leaving the lair and going into the tower chamber, Prince Ian helped himself to a piece of pork that he cooked over a small fire.

Hang on, was there a fridge in the kitchen?

No. This was the olden days.

But the villagers came once a month with the meat? How did the dragon keep from rotting?

That’s not really—

Was it dried? Like a Slim Jim?

… sure. It was dried.

As he was eating, Prince Ian heard a sudden scraping noise behind him.

The hell did he cook it over a fire for then, if it was dried?

He looked up and spied another young man standing in the doorway.

I’m just saying, it doesn’t make any fucking sense, man. Wait, is this me?

Prince Ian frowned. “Who are you?” he asked. “Are you a prisoner of the dragon too?”

The boy shrugged. “Uh, yeah. I guess. I mean, I do some work around here. Clean up and shit, in exchange for not getting eaten. Name’s Mikhailo.”

About fucking time. Only, how is it fair that you get to be prince and I’m a fucking cleaner?

Prince Ian tactfully did not mention how the lair was impressively dirty for a place with a fulltime cleaner but invited Mikhailo to share his meal. As they ate, Prince Ian studied his new acquaintance. He was the same age as but shorter than the prince, with skin as white as snow, lips as red as blood, and hair as black as ebony.

Hair as black as— The hell was that?

Nothing.

Yeah, okay, then why are you smiling? Eh, fuck you. Prince Ian’s fucking thirsty for Mikhailo, I get it.

Though his manner was somewhat brusque and uncouth, Prince Ian could not help but feel himself drawn to Mikhailo. The boy was funny and easy to talk to, even if he seemed reluctant to say too much about himself or where he came from. Prince Ian tried asking him about the dragon, but despite apparently having lived there ever since the dragon moved in, Mikhailo couldn’t tell him much.

“Hardly ever even see it, man. At dusk and dawn mostly, so I guess it spends the night flying around with the other dragons, terrorizing the peasants or whatever. During the day it holes up in the tower chamber. Guess dragons must sleep too, huh? Don’t fucking go up there,” he added sternly. “It ain’t fucking kidding about killing you if you do.”

Having found a friend, Prince Ian found that life at the dragon’s lair wasn’t all that bad. He missed his siblings and being outdoors and practicing with the soldiers at the castle, and he resented the loss of his freedom, but he enjoyed the peace and quiet, and enjoyed spending time with Mikhailo. However, one thing he soon grew very tired of was eating nothing but meat. The dragon didn’t seem to require anything else, for it was the only thing the villagers ever delivered, and Mikhailo – whose tasks included receiving the monthly tribute – just gave Prince Ian a weird look when Ian suggested he ask the people to bring some vegetables next month.

“That ain’t the deal they’ve got with the dragon,” he told Ian. “Ain’t nobody gonna listen to me if I go trying to change it.”

Yeah, real Prince Charming there, wanting Mikhailo to risk his life so Ian can stuff his face with fucking cucumber.

Undeterred by Mikhailo’s lack of enthusiasm and courage—

Fuck you.

—Prince Ian decided to take it up with the dragon himself. In the weeks since he arrived at the lair, he hadn’t met the creature again, not even once; he’d just heard the powerful swoosh of its wings when it came and went at dusk and dawn. Now he went up the stairs to the tower chamber and there he waited until night had fallen and he noted the scraping of claws against stone inside the room. Then he knocked at the door.

There was a long silence. Then the door slammed open with enough force to nearly undo it from its hinges.

“What are you doing here?!” the dragon roared, terrible in its fury. “I’ve told you to never come here!”

“You’ve told me to never set foot inside the room,” Ian reasoned, fighting to keep his voice calm. “And I’m not. I just wanted to ask if I may have the use of the small garden just outside the lair. I miss being outdoors and I could grow vegetables for Mikhailo and me.”

Jesus Christ, man, again with gardening? Thought you were over it.

“You may never leave the lair,” the dragon, a garden-hating meanie, snarled, and then he closed the door in Prince Ian’s face.

As he fucking should.

“Probably worried one of the villagers will spot you and, I dunno, mount a rescue,” Mikhailo said shortly the next morning when Prince Ian told him of his failed attempt. “Anyway, you’re a fucking idiot for going up there like that. You get it won’t hesitate to kill you, right?”

“Right,” Ian agreed. “But,” he added with a frown, “why hasn’t it yet?”

“You fucking complaining?” Mikhailo snapped, and then he stalked away, and Ian didn’t see him again for three days.

Listen, you get that I get that Mikhailo is the dragon, right? You’re not fooling anyone, Gallagher.

Then, one day, fed up with the dragon being a really annoying prick, Prince Ian grabbed a huge sword he conveniently found lying around in a cupboard, because the lair was a fucking pigsty, suitable for a pig like the dragon, and he went up the stairs and kicked in the door and he cut the dragon’s throat while it slept, and then he went off and found himself a nice prince to marry.

…

…

That’s not how the story ends.

…

Hey, where are you going? Come back- Jesus, I’m sorry, okay? Gallagher, I’m sorry. Just come back here. Tell me what really happened.

Prince Ian woke with a start on his pallet in the lair. He’d had the most vivid dream about killing the dragon—

A dream? That’s the lamest fucking— Ah, fuck. Sorry.

—but for some reason it hadn’t felt as satisfying as he had thought it would. For all that Prince Ian often fantasized about strangling the beast, it seemed he didn’t actually wish to see it dead. With that disconcerting realization in mind, Prince Ian went to break his fast, resigned to doing so on meat and yet more meat. But in the kitchen he found Mikhailo, and on the table in front of him was a pile of cabbage and carrots and onions. 

“Guess the dragon must have talked to the villagers after all,” Mikhailo muttered, refusing to look at the prince. “And, uh, there was this thing I wanted to show you.”

Without waiting for a response, he spun around on his heel and walked out the door. Curious, Prince Ian followed, through doors and up and down stairs he never knew existed. Eventually, he found himself standing in what appeared to be an inner courtyard. It was small and the walls surrounding it very high, but up above the sky was blue. Prince Ian turned his face towards it and for the first time since he came to live at the dragon’s lair he felt sunlight on his face.

“It’s a shithole,” Mikhailo said. For some reason he sounded a little nervous. “But if you wanna go outside, you can come here. And there’s dirt in those bins, so I guess you could grow stuff in them? Just gotta wear this hat. Anyone sees you, they’ll just think it’s me.”

Privately, Prince Ian wondered who’d ever be able to see him behind walls that high, but he wasn’t going to argue. Wearing an ugly had was a small price to pay for being able to go outside, and to have a garden.

He gave Mikhailo a small smile; Mikhailo smiled back.

“Mikhailo smiled back.” Yeah, you bet he was laughing his ass off, ‘cause he thought Prince Ian was a huge fucking dork.

Things were good for a long while after that. Prince Ian spent his days in the garden and in Mikhailo’s company, and though he still resented being locked away from the world it was easy to ignore that when he had something to do and when his plants started to grow and when he was with Mikhailo. The two young men became closer and closer with each passing week, and soon it seemed to Prince Ian as if they had always known each other. He could no longer imagine a life without his friend.

He suspected that Mikhailo felt the same. It was there in the way he laughed at Prince Ian’s jokes; the way he sought him out to do nothing but talk; the way his gaze sometimes lingered on the prince, the look in his eyes unreadable.

Prince Ian suspected that Mikhailo too wondered what it would be like to press their lips together and hold each other tight. Sleep together; map every inch of each other’s bodies.

Hang on a minute, you’re telling me they haven’t fucked yet? The hell they’ve been doing?

I told you. Hanging out. Talking. Laughing.

Jesus Christ, that’s so fucking gay.

Two men not fucking each other is gay? Yeah, that makes a lot of sense. One day we really need to talk about all your internalized homophobia.

My interna-what? Ah, shut the fuck up. Continue with the story. All these interruptions ain’t doing much for the flow, you know.

Really? I hadn’t noticed.

Prince Ian became determined to find out if Mikhailo felt the same way as he did. He realized that he needed to be careful, however, and not push too hard, lest he spook the other boy. Even though he was almost sure he could see longing in Mikhailo’s eyes, there seemed to be some invisible hand holding him back. Every time Prince Ian was convinced they were finally getting somewhere, Mikhailo would suddenly pull back, as if stung.

Or as if remembering something. Himself, maybe.

Bu then came a cold, clear autumn day almost exactly one year after Prince Ian had been taken to the dragon’s lair.

Whoa, wait, now you’re telling me they’ve been hanging out for one fucking year and they still haven’t banged?

What can I say? Mikhailo’s a pussy.

Whatever. This story is unrealistic as fuck.

Prince Ian and Mikhailo had spent the afternoon together in the garden, as they almost always did whenever Mikhailo wasn’t busy with any of his mysterious chores (which he still refused to tell Prince Ian much about, but which sometimes took him away from the lair for days at a time). Once it started getting dark they went inside and dined on chicken and potatoes from Prince Ian’s patch, and as so often happened they started bickering and play fighting.

If that’s something that happens a lot you might have mentioned it earlier. Established it or whatever. Those mysterious chores too. What’s that all about?

Oh, my bad. Maybe I should start over? Once upon and time—

Nah, man, you’re good. Just a suggestion for next time.

Thank you.

You’re welcome.

They were chasing each other around the kitchen when Mikhailo tripped over the muddy shoes he’d lazily left there the night before and fell to the floor.

You know these meaningful little comments ain’t actually clever, right? They don’t actually add anything to the story.

I like them.

Prince Ian, ever chivalrous, grabbed hold of his friend’s arm to break his fall, but ended up going down with him instead, pinning Mikhailo to the floor with his big, strong body.

Fucking finally.

Their eyes met and Prince Ian felt his heart starting to beat faster. He could see a faint blush spreading over Mikhailo’s face. Neither of them spoke; neither of them moved. Then, slowly, slowly, Prince Ian leaned in to brush his lips over Mikhailo’s. Mikhailo lifted his head to meet him in a kiss to end all other kisses, a kiss to inspire a thousand love songs.

Uh-huh, and then…

And then they went to Prince Ian’s room and had sex all night long. But when Prince Ian woke the next morning—

Wait, wait, what? That’s it? “They had sex all night long.” How about some fucking detail, man?

Fine.

After having great sex using lots of good lube all night long, Prince Ian woke up alone in his bed.

I hate you.

He went in search of Mikhailo but couldn’t find his friend anywhere. He looked in the garden and in the kitchen and he went to the sad little cellar chamber Mikhailo called his room even though Prince Ian had never actually seen him sleep there.

Because he’s the dragon and sleeps in the tower chamber. Great hint, Gallagher. Real subtle.

Fuck off.

A week passed and Prince Ian was starting to suspect that Mikhailo was gone for good this time. Perhaps the dragon had found out about their tryst and had sent him away? Or maybe Mikhailo was disgusted with what had happened and wanted nothing more to do with the prince? Prince Ian wondered and worried and feared, and when finally Mikhailo returned, stepping into the kitchen like nothing had happened, Prince Ian was so exhausted with terror and regret that his relief immediately transformed into fury.

He yelled at Mikhailo, called him names and demanded to know where he’d been. He named him a coward and—

…

Hey, what’s the matter? You okay?

Yeah. Yeah, man, I’m fine.

You don’t look— Listen, Prince Ian’s just being an asshole, okay? He saying a bunch of stupid shit ‘cause he’s sick and tired of not knowing if he means as much to Mikhailo as Mickhailo means to him. He doesn’t mean it.

…

Mick?

I mean… He probably means it a little. He’s not wrong.

No, he’s— Fine. He means it a little right then. But he is wrong, okay? He doesn’t really understand what’s going on with Mikhailo, but he’ll get it later. He’ll know he wasn’t being really fair.

… yeah?

Yeah. Okay?

Okay.

Great. Maybe we should speed this bit up a little—

Once Prince Ian had finished shouting, Mikhailo just stared at him for a long moment.

“You have no fucking idea what you’re talking about,” he spat, and then he spun around and disappeared through the door.

Prince Ian was immediately overcome with regret, yet he was still too angry and hurt and stubborn to run after the other. He went about his day in a very foul mood and when he went to bed that night Mikhailo was still gone. Prince Ian slept fitfully and in the middle of the night he woke to a loud crash, soon followed by several more. He realized it must have come form the tower chamber and after a moment of hesitation he grabbed his nightgown and rushed up the stairs.

So, he brought a nightgown with him when he thought the dragon was going to kill him?

Of course not. He found it in one of the rooms.

Yeah, okay, but why are there so many rooms in this fucking lair anyway? What’s with all the old stuff there? Didn’t the dragon build the place to live in like right before Prince Ian was sent there?

Mickey. It’s getting late and I’d really love to wrap this up and go to bed. It doesn’t really matter about the rooms. Can I just continue with the story?

Whatever, man. Just thought you should know there’s a bunch of plot holes in your little fairy tale.

 Once he reached the door to the forbidden room, the crashing noises had stopped. Instead, Prince Ian heard whimpers and moaning, as if from someone in great pain. It could only be the dragon – something must be wrong with it.

Yeah, ya think, Sherlock?

Prince Ian knocked on the door. There was no reply, other than more whimpers and moans. Steeling himself, he tried the handle. The door was unlocked.

That’s awfully convenient.

Stepping inside, Prince Ian found the dragon on the floor. It was clearly hurt, for there was dark blood pooling underneath it. As Prince Ian entered, the great beast lifted its head but said nothing and made no move to attack him. It seemed it was too badly hurt to pose any threat.

It occurred to Prince Ian that he could kill the dragon. He could go down to the kitchen and fetch the biggest knife there and then he’d be free and he could go back to the castle and his siblings and—

The dragon made a low, pained sound and let its head fall back to the floor, closing its eyes.

Prince Ian went down the stairs, but he didn’t fetch a knife, he fetched bandages instead. Though part of him cursed himself for a fool, he knew he couldn’t bring himself to kill the dragon, monster or not, and couldn’t bring himself to let it bleed to death either.

That’s a huge fucking mistake. Maybe the dragon never hurt him but it still kept him imprisoned. Prince Ian should be getting the hell out of there when he has the chance.

Hmm, yeah. Choosing to be locked up just to be the person you love does sound like a pretty insane thing to do.

Oh, fuck off. That’s totally different.

Sure, Mick.

By the time Prince Ian returned to the tower the dragon had lost consciousness. The prince set to cleaning and bandaging his wounds, having learned the art of it while training with a medical witch who lived at the castle. It took a great long while; the dragon was large and heavy and the cuts in its side long, if shallow. But Prince Ian was nothing if not determined and eventually he had the beast wrapped up.

As Ian moved to rise, the dragon stirred.

“The hell are you doing?” it muttered, blinking up at Ian. Then it spotted the bandages, and the ice blue eyes widened. “What the— Are you fucking insane? This is a... is a… real bad fucking idea… ”

It sounded… strange, and not just from the pain and blood loss, Prince Ian thought. Sounded not just slurred but softer somehow, in spite of the uncharacteristic cursing; sounded almost familiar; sounded like—

“Mikhailo,” Prince Ian whispered.

Ooooh, big surprise! I’m so shocked right now!

You know there are other uses for plot twists than to shock the reader, right? Or actually, I guess you don’t know, but if you picked up a book once in a while—

Yeah, yeah, whatever. What happened after this great and totally unexpected reveal?

The dragon lost consciousness again so Prince Ian went to bed and slept soundly and when he woke the next day he spotted Mikhailo leaning against the wall of his room, looking tired ad unhappy. He was even paler than usually and there was a stiffness to his posture that suggested quite a bit of pain, but other than that he seemed well enough.

“So,” Prince Ian said, trying for casualness as he sat up on his pallet. “You’re a dragon.”

Mikhailo shrugged. “Seems like it.”

“But only by night.”

“Yeah… We turn when the sun sets, and turn back again when it rises.”

“I didn’t know that about dragons.”

“No one around here fucking does. People realize how helpless we are during the day, they’d kill us in a heartbeat. My dad says— “

“Your dad?”

“The leader of the dragons. The really big, white one? This whole terror and extortion thing was his idea, once he realized that no one in this kingdom has a clue about dragons.”

“Oh.”

“He hates humans. Thinks they’re useless and weak. If he knew I kept you around instead of killing you, he’d have murdered us both.”

Jesus fucking Christ, laying it on a bit thick with the metaphysical shit there, don’t ya think?

You mean metaphorical?

I mean it’s fucking stupid, that’s what I mean.

Might be closer to allegory anyway.

Uh-huh. Nobody fucking cares, Shakespeare.

“So, anyway,” Mikhailo continued, “you should probably try to go as far away from here as possible. Find a ship and go across the sea or something.”

Prince Ian blinked. “What?”

“Yeah, man, you won’t be able to go back to your castle. No way to stay hidden there. I know this guy up in Dikno, he might—”

He fell silent as Prince Ian jumped up from the bed and crossed the space between them in two long strides, and then he gasped loudly as the prince’s lips found his.

It was another one to inspire love songs.

“You idiot,” Prince Ian said fondly when eventually they broke apart. “Of course I’m not going anywhere. Unless,” he added, suddenly shy, “you want me to.”

Mikhailo made a face. “No, you fucking moron, I don’t want you to go,” he finally said. “But my dad—”

“We’ll find a way to deal with him. We’ll figure out how to sort it out and set things right between humans and dragons. We’ll find a way, together. Okay?”

And Mikhailo the dragon looked at his prince for a long moment and then he smiled. “Okay.”

At his prince, huh. Surprised you got room for all those big words in your head when your ego’s taking up so much space. All right, then what happened?

They organized a rebellion against the leader of the dragons, I guess. I don’t really know. That’s another story.

What do you mean, another story? Is this it? You spend all that time setting it up but when you get to the good part with the fighting you just stop?

Yeah, it’s getting really late. Kid’s asleep anyway.

Kid’s been out cold since, like, before the dragons even showed up, man, don’t fucking pretend this story was for her. … you really not gonna continue?

Nah, I’ll continue. But for the next scene I figured we might try a little show, don’t tell…

Oh, really? What’s the next scene?

Make-up sex. Prince Ian fucking Mikhailo’s brains out. And hey, spoiler alert: Mikhailo comes four times.

Four times, huh.

Yeah. So… wanna know how it happens?

Okay.

Okay. It starts like this—

---

So, yeah. There we have it. The things we write for Gallavich Week… XD

I am halfway outraged that this is the longest fic I’ve ever written for Gallavich, but I’m rather pleased I managed to write something for this theme! Guess I’ll go to bed both proud and embarrassed and dead tired tonight. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Where I am, we’re half an hour past midnight, but seeing as it’s still Monday somewhere, I have decided that I’m posting on time. Yay me! @gallavichthings

[shark-myths]

Fic Writer Review

thanks for the tag, @setting-in-a-honeymoon !

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

60! which is a lot, and also doesn’t include the fics i orphaned from an old fandom (a controversial decision to me, by me)

2. What’s your total AO3 wordcount?

867,941

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

so many throughout history, and some i’m sure i’ve forgotten. and yes, i’ve been writing RPF since age 13 and am developmentally stunted as a result. smallville, x-men, lotr, afi, fall out boy, battlestar galactica, mcu, iron man, marina del rey, mcr, star trek, supernatural, p!atd, and now the latest blessed sinkhole, cobra kai.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Stranger Danger

From Russia With Love

The Difference Between Real Love and the Love On TV

Boys Next Door/Assholes

Jet Black Crow

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

oh, I really mean to, i swear. but I have 340 in my inbox that I haven’t responded to. I appreciate my kind and supportive reviewers so much! I just don’t have a lot of time or energy, and I usually choose reading or writing with my time instead of responding to messages. your comments are a gift and I love receiving them so much!!!

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

lol in the olden days, I once ended a fic with a surprise suicide, because i was a cruel and mercurial child. all my fob fics have happy endings though! the fic I have online right now that gets the most ‘wtf is this ending’ feedback is the unreliable narrator ghost story, the ending of which is either happy or REAL SAD, depending on how you interpret is, is Baby You’re A Haunted House

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

i don’t write crossovers per se but I love a good universe smash. the wildest one I’ve done is my beauty and the beast/coyote ugly peterick remix.

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

god yes, i started writing fic in 2003 and i cannot stress enough how different fandom was back then

9. Do you write smut? If so what kind?

absolutely I do, lots of emotional intensity but also good old fashioned fucking

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

a million years ago on deviantart

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

yes! it is the biggest compliment ever, you guys are too good to me

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

hahahahaha @carbonbased000

13. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

hard question! rpf is my favorite thing to write because I love making transformations within set biographical constraints, it is by far my favorite way to be creative, but there are so many ships with interesting dynamics. i’m true blue for peterick but i also love fic with older characters who are all gritty and wounded navigating overt and internalized homophobia, and girl ships are the stuff of life. some of my favorite ships I never write for (for example, kirk/spock or various lotr pairings) because like. I have absolutely nothing to add, it’s already perfect. lawrusso is my favorite of the moment because cobra kai is an absolutely WILD show, it’s a blast

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

UGH my ageswap peterick about Patrick letting everyone down again and again and again. literally I’ve been working on this fic for 5 years and only have like one scene left to write but it’s become a goddamn albatross around my neck

15. What are your writing strengths?

I’m funny and I use pretty words, and the fact that I want good things for all my characters shines through

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

will you laugh if I say plot? I am terrible at plots. almost all of my fics are just situations and how people react to them emotionally. the other thing is spatial descriptions, I can’t picture things in my head so i am wildly inconsistent and often just forget to add these in. oh, and I also get so lost in the dreamy emotional bits of people’s inner experiences that I lose my own narrative thread over and over and over again.

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

I love it if you’re a student of the language, bilingual, or get someone who is fluent to beta that shit for you. if you don’t have the skillset or resources to do it right, there’s a real risk of cultural appropriation and fetishizing someone’s foreignness, so I’d steer clear. there’s the question of what it adds to the experience of the fic, as a reader or a writer, that has to be considered

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

afi rpf, and I dead-ass thought I’d invented it. you shoulda seen my brain explode when i discovered an entire archive just for that.

19. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

I’ve reached a level of pride in my skill that I love most of the fics I finish—if I don’t, I tend not to finish or post! so I’m usually enamored with my most recent stories and have a deep appreciation for most of my gallery. but I do literally have a girl out boy tattoo and that universe (and how my amazing readers participated in building it with me) will always be the most personally important to me, regardless of whether its technical merit is outstripped by newer works

i tag--who wants to do this tag? @leyley09 @sir-transcelot @alienfuckeronmain @carbonbased000 @allkindsofplatinumandpercocet @rhea-imagined @all my other lovelies who feel like doing writing reflection as a means of procrastinating actual writing

[flamingo-queen-writes]

Writer tagging~

Thanks for tagging me, @theobscurepotato !

What is your total word count on AO3?

566,174. Until I post the next Matador chapter, anyway.

How many fandoms have you written for?

Technically, three of them on AO3, but also two others on Fanfiction.net under a different name.

What were your top 5 fics by kudos?

Blue-eyed Matador (over 1000, I'm so excited!) Revenge (best served screaming) Rescue Spooning 101

Just us fossils here

Oh my god, they were roommates!

Do you respond to comments - why, why not?

Always. There are only two exceptions where I will not respond to a comment. 1) We've gone back and forth and I'm pretty sure we'd just write each other smiley faces and hearts if we kept going. 2) The comment asks me not to respond, which hasn't happened yet, but if it ever did, I'd respect that.

I answer comments because I love them and want to ensure that the people making them know that their words are well received and greatly appreciated. I also want to connect with my readers, and comment replies are one great way to do that.

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

Oof, the happiest ending, huh? Let's see. I think in terms of singular fic, I'd have to say that Henrietta: Welcome to the Barnes-yard is the happiest ending. No one is injured (which takes Rescue Spooning out of the running) and no one is trapped in a different timeline (which takes all the Fossilized fics out of the running), etc.

What’s your fic with the angsty-est ending?

Honestly... I think it would be Partridge (pear tree not included). It's my first fic in the MCU fandom, and I think its sad ending is unexpected enough that outdoes Mouse Song. But those two are probably the only two vying for this dubious honor.

Do you write smut? if so, what kind?

Sort of? I write a whole lot of fade-to-black sorts of things, a lot of hinting at things, and one explicit bit of tentacle porn in Oh my god, they were roommates! Everywhere but that one fit, it's off the page, though.

Do you write crossovers?

In my head, I write oh so many of them. And I do have about 57 pages of one brewing, as well. But published, I've only really got the one--a Bucky and Venom crossover series that has a special place in my heart.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

In the olden days of yore, I did receive some, yes. But it was clearly not enough to send me packing. Mostly, even in my earlier fandom excursions on FFnet, feedback was friendly.

What is your all time favourite pairing?

All-time favorite pairing, huh? I'm going to go with Bucky and Venom, simply because they are very good together in the Losers in Love series. I think technically there are about half a dozen other pairings that are right up there depending on how the writing is handled, but for simplicity's sake, we'll go with Varnes.

What is a fic you would like to finish but don’t think you ever will?

There are loads of fics I'd like to finish, but only one that I think I never will. And that's the fic in the Hazy series wherein the General dies. I'm just too worried that hate for the General will feel like hate for my mother, and there's too much of my own emotional bullshit tied up in the story. But even poor neglected Red Fish will get finished some day. I just need to get Blue-eyed matador to a sound stopping place and switch gears back to Hazy for a while in order to make that happen.

Writing strengths?

Character introspection and world building. Getting deep inside a character's head and pulling all their bullshit out onto the page is fun and I do it often enough to be fairly good at it. And I do some mean world building, though a lot of that doesn't show up on the page in my fanfiction just because the world is largely built by canon.

Writing weaknesses?

Chapter creep. Hands down, it's chapter creep. Sometimes, this is a good thing. A story will flesh itself out and all that, yay. But sometimes it opens me up to a story that can never end because the loose threads keep unraveling into more loose threads and I can't gather them all up. Along with this, the character introspection strength up above can easily become a weakness, too.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

I wrote a Don Quixote parody in college, and a Medea screenplay as well. I consider them fanfiction, even though most wouldn't. But for things most people would say were definitely fanfiction, I wrote for Rurouni Kenshin.

What’s your favourite fic you’ve written?

I can't pick a favorite from among my babies! What an unfair question to be asked. Oh man. Um. Well, I'm very partial to Blue-eyed matador and Revenge (best served screaming). But I'm equally partial to Partridge (pear tree not included) and Mouse Song. So there's four instead of one. But I also really, really like Rescue Spooning 101. So, five. Five of my babies are more precious to me than the rest. That feels so wrong.

Tagging @glittercake and whoever else would like to participate! 

[moonflower-rose]

AO3 Tag Game

I was tagged by @tackytigerfic - thank you pal!

1. How many works do you have on Ao3?

14 - I’ve been slowly re-posting old stuff when I get around to it, between old archives going offline and the sheer number of hard drives I’ve managed to kill over the years, I’ve lost a lot of the original files for my stuff and going back and putting the HTML back in is tedious so it’s going very slowly, lol

2. What is your total Ao3 word count?

152,149

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

Two - Harry Potter and Supernatural. I have a couple of WIPs in other fandoms that I hope I’ll one day finish and post, and those include Captive Prince, Star Trek and Star Wars.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1. The World of Management (Or, Harry Potter and the Office Romance) 2. Watch The Castles Burn 3. Owl in a Day’s Work 4. Poppiholla 5. Pissing for England

5. Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

Oh jeeze oh boy *hyperventilates*

Original fandom life me ALWAYS responded to the comments. Then right around the time where I fell off the fandom boat and drowned in RL, someone made a comment to me (on Livejournal) that the only people who responded to comments on their fics were people who were trying to artificially inflate how popular their fic looked - these were the days before AO3 and kudos etc. I have to admit that got in my head a bit and I got very self-conscious about it and wondered if people thought that was what I was doing. Present fandom life me has very good intentions for responding to comments, then gets overwhelmed and doesn’t know what to say, then runs away and panics. That probably sounds nuts. I’m trying to do a better job of responding. I fucking LOVE getting comments, I got one today that made me smile so much and someone really took the time to write it. Long or short, I love them all and I am working on my response stage fright.

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

I have a Ginny/Pansy fic called  Infelicitous Circumstances which is probably the angstiest thing I’ve ever written. 

7. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve ever written?

No, I don’t enjoy crossovers as a reader or a writer (and that’s no slight against those who do, it’s just not my bag).

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Not recently, I definitely remember getting ‘flamed’, as we used to say back in the olden days, when I was but a little fandom tadpole, but nothing that has lasted in my mind that was really hateful. 

I do remember a funny comment I got on a Hermione/Ginny fic for an LJ fest called ‘Arse-A-Thon’ where the commenter gave me a brief lecture for not specifying in my fic that you should not put your fingers into an arse then vagina, or vice versa, without cleaning your hands thoroughly, or else you’ll get an infection, and impressionable people may read my fic about Hermione and Ginny playing with each others arseholes and use it as a how to guide, and the world would be rife with thrush, or something...it was so funny that I do still recall that one quite well. 

I recently got a comment that I interpreted to be ‘I didn’t like Draco in this’ and the commenter came back to clarify that they did like the fic but Draco’s behaviour in it made them really annoyed, and I think that’s actually a compliment - I made them feel strong feelings!

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I do, the infrequent kind, lol. If there’s a kink I’m likely to write, it’ll be watersports, but I don’t think I have any particularly kinky trends in my fic. I like to write smut with feelings but I often get carried away with the feelings and don’t spend enough time on the smut.

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yes but not for ages. 

11. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, although a good 15 years ago a friend and I did some planning but we never followed through.

12. What’s your all time favorite ship?

Harry/Draco. I’m in for life.

13. What was the first fandom you write for?

That I posted online, Harry Potter. That I wrote for myself at home as a kid? Star Wars! Or Star Trek, it was one or the other.

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

I think I really love Poppiholla the most, but I can’t say why. It just makes me feel good. 

[moonchildoh8]

Thanks @daikon1 for the tag! These have been so interesting to read.

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

2...soon to be 3

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

3,853

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

Three. Sailor Moon, Psych, Merlin.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Translating #reviews on FF.net -> #kudos

The Time to Shine (Merlin, FF.net)

Pressure Points (SM)

Take Me Out, Take Me Home (SM)

The Tragedy of the Moon Kingdom (SM, FF.net)

Falling Apart (Psych, FF.net)

5. Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I typically wouldn't on my own stories though I have been trying more since reading Tumblr posts about how important it is to people. I tend to not respond because I have usually said everything I needed to say in the story and I don't need it to be an ongoing conversation. And generally I write for me and I like to let go of it after that and let it live in the world on its own (death of the author, if you will). That being said, I appreciate reviews immensely and knowing someone has felt something after reading my work. So I try to at least say thank you.

HOWEVER, I do LOVE responding to comments on other people's stories. I love fangirling with other readers on my favorite works.

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

That has got to be UsaMamo Week 2021 - Day 3 'Crisis' which is my soon to be released beast of a fic.

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

Take Me Out, Take Me Home

8. Do you write crossovers? If yes, what’s the craziest thing you’ve written?

I generally despise crossovers, but I do have this idea in my head of a story where a grown up Momiji from 'Fruits Basket' meets Usagi. They are both bunnies so I think it would be a glorious little bunny-fest.

9. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Not yet.

10. Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Not yet. I have a fic on deck that I'm calling Teenage Dream for now, that I hope will be my first SM lemon.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Why?

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No

13. Have you ever co-written a fic?

No

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

Usagi x Mamoru because the various canons give us so much of their character and so little at the same time that it makes the fanworks amazing. I also dig Rei x Minako.

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

The Tragedy of the Moon Kingdom. I started writing that in middle school and posted it to FF.net in high school. I kind of want to rewrite it (the bit I actually did post is pretty terrible) and actually finish it now that I have more life experience and my perception of fairy tales is way more complex. It would be a totally different fic that 12 year old me envisioned and I kind of love that.

16. What’s your writing strengths?

It's too soon to tell really, but I'd say I describe sensations in really great detail that really bring the moment to life. My greatest writing strength is probably my greatest IRL character strength which is that I delve into the emotional complexities of my characters with great empathy.

17. What’s your writing weaknesses?

I spend so much time on the imagery of a scene that it is hard for me to push the plot along. But that makes sense. It takes FOREVER for me to get through art museums because I have to stop and really process the beauty of each and every piece. It drives my friends mad.

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

Please provide translations? Or context clues so I can figure it out without pausing the story.

19. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

That would be Sailor Moon back in the olden days of my yooooouth.

20. What’s your favourite fic you’ve written?

That's gotta be Pressure Points. It's short and sweet and OH SO NERDY.

This was a fun game! Hey, *knock, knock, knock* @uranuswind, @goddessalthena, and @lilliebellfanfics, want to come out and play?

[s1utspeare]

Fic Writer Interview Meme

I was tagged by my beloved @hils79, whose answers to this were so??? nice???? and good??? i was like HILLLSSSSS MY LOOOOVVVEEEE esp. with their spicy opinion like. it was very good. 

name: Brigid! But slutspeare on ao3!

fandoms: hoo doggy. uhhhhh I wrote fic for Percy Jackson, Sherlock, the Avengers, and Doctor Who in Ye Olden Days on FF.net, but now I mostly write DMBJ fic, which, tbh, is really the only fandom that I like writing fic for at this point?? I think it’s because of the people lmao. And also the extremely versatile ways I can use the characters

two-shot: I don’t think I have a two-shot? I have some two-parter series, either finished or in the works, but for me it’s either one-shot or many-shots. I like two-shots though! They’re always very good bc More Content but with the neat formatting of a one-shot

most popular multi-chapter fic: A Swiftly Tilting Planet yooooooo! I mean to be fair it’s also my only multi-chapter fic but

actual worst part of writing: SUMMARIES i’m literally so bad at summaries. they’re all either short or don’t actually make sense bc I’m literally terrible at writing them. I also hate the feeling where the fic is all inside you and wants to come out but you don’t have enough time/energy/typing speed to get it out there quick enough

how you choose your titles: they’re usually song lyrics or lines from poems lmao. I’m also not great at titles. the FoBa Psychic Detective AU is gonna be called You Don’t Recognize the Bodies in the Water, which is from a weird-ass TikTok I saw the other day so uhhhhh take my titling ability as being Non-Existant

do you outline: YES ok so i was adamantly against outlining for like. my entire writing career bc i was like “it’s a waste of time, idk what’s going to happen, i find it out as i write” and then i outlined Swiftly Tilting and banged that one out SO fucking quick. Like, even just having a basic idea of where you want to go before you start makes writing SO much easier. how did i not discover this hack earlier. Also, you don’t even have to stick with it! You can change it as you discover things! Like! Ah! 

ideas you probably won’t get around to, but wouldn’t it be nice: hmmmm i don’t know! There’s like! so many! and most of them I could conceivably get around to, but it might be awhile. I have a vague idea for a Swiftly Tilting prequel about the m9 ship crew, and also a Vincenzo fic about vinnie and luca being IN LOVE because they ARE but i don’t know if I have enough passion in me to write for that show. other than that, though, is just like. a veritable cascade of ideas waiting (ooohh like the Jia Kezi/Li Jiale ghost roommate oneshot based on the hit BL drama He’s Coming to Me? i would LOVE to write that one but idk if it will happen). aslighalkdsfjladkjf @vishcount I also had a SOTUS-dream last night where Arthit discovers a secret plot at the college that involves a gun full of bees that Kongpob’s mother developed and he has to keep it hidden from the Bad Guys who want to use it to create like, fuckin, superpowered swimmers?? also there was a lot of angst involved bc Arthit was a swimmer in high school for some reason and then something happened oh wait oh shit I realize why that was, it’s because Krist was in that one show where he played a swimmer in high school and it was very angsty. Ok my brain makes sense now. Also BTS was there. 

callouts @ me: i love u. slow down u maniac.

best writing traits: oh gosh uhhhhhhh ok I don’t want this to sound like i’m bragging or full of myself but like. I’m fucking good at writing. There’s definitely stuff that I need to work on, and maybe i should edit things a little more but like??? bitch!!!! you’re good at this!!! this is your job!!! idk I spent so much time being like “aw shit what if I’m actually not that good what if everyone who reads my stuff is just being nice and saying that they like it and it actually sucks” but i’ve looked back on some of the things i’ve done recently and I’m like, actually a good writer. I mean I’ve been practicing for a long time, so it stands to reason that I would be decent by now. But SHIT like. I’m doing ok! and I’m still a baby! I can only get better! 

spicy tangential opinion: I don’t know if I really have any writing Hot Takes? oh wait i guess i do have one sort of. I think the “fake it until you make it” saying is also super applicable to writing, bc in college I was like “ok what if I just make this as Pretentious Sounding As Possible” and everyone was like “omgggg ur so goooodddd this proseee” and i was like “oh damn i didn’t realize that would work.” and now my ace ass writes straight p*rn romance novels for a living. like I genuinely don’t know what I’m doing half the time, but if you put your work out there with confidence and the knowledge that someone will want to read it, someone is going to read it. also u don’t have to know what a penis looks like to write Sex Involving Penises. You’ve just gotta be good at metaphors. 

this was so fun! I love answering questions! I’m gonna tag @vishcount, @lacommunarde, @gaiahenshin, @merinnan, @bookjoyworm, @humanlighthouse, and @undyingsunshine for this one, if you haven’t already been tagged (but as always, no pressure)! also, anyone else who would like to do it, pls tag steal from me!!! love u bbs, hope you’re having a great day!