#but the good news is I have figured out how to manage writing multiple stories at once so we'll be alright 🫶🏻

[laylajeffany]

Between healing bees and Wednesday identifying her sexuality in a clinical setting, Enid can not prepare for what's next in her new life.

[lanawinterscigarettes]

hiii i just found your blog, I LOVE HOW YOU WRITE, and if i can request like an angsty story about house and wilson with reader, and the reader has like some disease that'll kill her😭😭😭😭😭im just craving angst

YOU ARE SO SWEET THANK YOU 💞💞 it's been awhile since I've written a good angst fic so this is perfect for me

Your Last Breath (Greg House x gn reader x James Wilson)

Warnings: talk of hospitals/medical procedures, reader has a mystery illness that kills them, they/them pronouns used a few times to refer to the reader in a gender neutral way, hurt/no comfort, heavy angst, main character death (spoiler: it's you)

The doctors had been trying for months to figure out what was wrong with you. Months of invasive tests, months of going back and forth with possible explanations, months of being put on temporary treatments that seemed to work for a short while before you eventually succumbed to whatever was causing your problems again.

Everyone was stumped, and by everyone I truly do mean everyone. Not even House could figure out what was wrong, something that frustrated him to no end for multiple reasons. And by the time he was finally able to figure out what the cause was, it was already too late.

The disease had progressed too far along on its course for the doctors to be able to treat it properly. The best they could do was make you comfortable for the few weeks you had left to live.

Usually he liked having cases he couldn't crack, he liked figuring out the puzzle of what was bothering his patient, he liked being able to go to Cuddy and say "I told you so" when it ended up him being right and everyone else was wrong. But not this time.

This time all he wanted to do was curl up into a ball and die. If only. He'd gladly give up both of his legs if it meant you'd get better.

Meanwhile, the resident head of oncology wasn't taking the news very well, either. It was normal for House to shut himself away for extended periods of time, but not Wilson. He barely left his office anymore, not to check on his own patients, not to accept a request for a consult, nothing. In fact, the only time he ever did leave was to visit you.

Most nights were spent with either him or House at your side, checking your vitals and fetching whatever it was that you needed. You ended up having to beg the both of them to go home at some point, even if it was to just shower and change, but they still refused, choosing to stay at the hospital instead.

Occasionally one of the ducklings would stop by if either of them couldn't for some reason, whether that be due to another patient needing attention or because you finally convinced them to take a break for once.

Foreman was solemn, talking about arrangements that could possibly be made for your body after death if you hadn't decided already. Cameron was sympathetic, reassuring you that they'd make sure you wouldn't be in any pain during your last days on earth. Chase was playful, trying to take your mind off things by cracking a joke or two. And Cuddy was surprisingly very nurturing when she managed to make the time to check in on you.

The whole thing was very bittersweet. While you appreciated everyone caring so much about you, it hurt to know why they were doing it.

Your final day was surprisingly quiet, with no nurses stopping by to check on you every hour or so like they had been for the past couple of weeks where you'd been bedridden almost completely. You suspected someone had requested for that, so you could have a bit of peace in the last few hours you'd be alive for.

House stood at the foot of your bed, watching as you slept. He looked like he was about to say something when Wilson suddenly spoke up from the armchair beside your bed.

"Don't even think about it, House. You're not waking them up right now."

Despite Wilson's firm tone, House couldn't help but roll his eyes. "Oh, come on. It's not like it matters much, they're going to be dead soon anyway."

It took everything in the oncologist not to snap and strangle the man in front of him. The only thing that managed to stop him was the sound of you letting out a hacking cough as you woke up. Even with the oxygen machine, it had become increasingly more difficult for you to breathe.

"Guys, don't fight," you tried to make your tone stern as you lectured them, but your throat was dry and therefore made your voice weak and raspy when you spoke.

"Hey, hey, don't speak, it's alright," Wilson gently reassured you as he reached out to take one of your hands into his. Your skin felt clammy, but he didn't care.

House had a pained look in his eyes as he watched you, but he did his best to cover it up with his usual snark. "We were just talking about you. Trying to figure out who should get your stuff when you die."

Wilson gave him an evil look, but you simply laughed. At least, they thought you laughed. It was kind of hard to tell given how sick you were.

"You guys are funny."

If it were any other time, House would've beamed with pride and joy at being able to make you smile with one of his quips, but this time he just felt empty inside, knowing that it was possibly the last one you'd ever hear. He quietly observed as Wilson helped you drink some water out of a small paper cup, one hand helping you hold it up to your lips while the other rested on your shoulder.

"Thank you," was the only thing you managed to get out once you were done, your breathing stalling yet again when you tried to speak. The three of you knew it was getting close to when it was going to happen. The problem was that only one of you had accepted it, and it wasn't either one of the two doctors who were in the room.

"I love you guys," ended up being your final words, a bittersweet smile on your face and tears in your eyes as you took your last breath. You hoped they knew that you meant that. You hoped they knew that you didn't blame them.

And you hoped that your death helped to bring them closer together rather than tearing them apart. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but who really cared? It's not like you'd be around to witness it anyway.

End notes: I rarely ever finish a request this early so please don't expect this to become a normal thing 😭 I just got really into writing this for some reason and once I started I just couldn't stop

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[terresdebrume]

I think I want to point at the elephant in the room today

The problem when we have the ever more frequent conversation of how to keep a fandom alive after the show it's based on stops airing is that we tend talk about it in a way that ignores the very real differences between the juggernauts of old fandoms like Star Trek and newer shows like Dead Boy Detectives, namely:

1. The difference in amount of material

2. The accessibility of said material

Part of the reason why Star Trek or The X-Files still have active fans so long after they aired is because those shows had multiple seasons with an average of 20 episodes each. For the X-Files' 11 seasons that's about 200 episodes each with their own storylines, themes, interesting ideas and frustrating mistakes right there to inspire Fanart, fic, meta, and any number of fanwork. I'm not even going to do the math on Star Trek: this show got about a bazillion shows

Dead Boy Detectives, and a lot of genre shows nowadays have like... Eight episodes. Ten, if we're lucky. Fandoms for procedurals or more broadly appealing shows fare better (Lone Star comes to mind, or sitcoms for example) because networks tend to keep them online longer, but genre series get ever shorter with ever fewer opportunities to really grow an audience... Think of all the shows that got popular on Tumblr in the past few years and tell me how many got a proper season? Shadow and Bones was cancelled. My Lady Jane: one season. Gentleman Jack, two (three?). Good Omens: maybe 3, depending on how the network handle the Gaiman situation. The Umbrella Academy got four seasons. Stranger Things, with 5 seasons and 42 episodes managed to equate roughly 2 seasons of the X-Files (probably not even that if you account for episode length). The Witcher currently has 3 seasons for 24 episodes.

Contrast this to shows like Dead Boy Detectives with, again, eight episodes. Maybe 16 if we get really lucky, but I'm not holding my breath. This is just materially WAY LESS soil for a fandom to grow in. It's not that people aren't motivated, it's that as much as you want to keep it going, there's only so much to say about 8 episodes! George Rexstrew, who plays one of the leads, even recently admitted that he's running out of things to say about his performance, and who can blame him? So after a while, you gotta turn to AU which by definition are always going to be potential hits and misses, since they diverge from what brought people to the show in the first place.

I know we're all real good at spinning yarn but sometimes it gets really hard not to run out of fiber.

As for accessibility: the Big Olds benefitted from two things. One, they were broadcast on much wider-reaching channels, if not from the start, then when they eventually made it on public networks. They had a regular play time, and you could stumble onto them by accident, this getting interested and picking it up. And two: the popular shows had a decent chance of getting tape or DVD sets, which made them easier to own and show to your friends so they could binge the story and join you in the fandom

By comparison, look at the barrier of access for Dead Boy Detectives:

Need to have a Netflix account

Need to see it somewhere in your recommendation (good luck if you come in more than a month after it released)

Need to see people talk about it as they binge (need to be in the right place at the right time, and by that I mean where fandom happens since Netflix has a habit of doing zero advertising for new shows)

Need to keep paying for a Netflix account if you wanna rewatch, or figure out how to do a piracy, which is getting more difficult and riskier every year

Need to be willing to get invested in a forever unfinished story

And when on top of that the writing in the first episode is, let's say it frankly, far from the best, that is a LOT of obstacle to overcome for a pretty small sandbox

So like, yeah, sure, we should be willing to keep making a fandom happen after a show ends, but at some point we can't ignore that the effort it takes to keep fandoms alive is getting way more intense than it used to be

[youryurigoddess]

Aziraphale’s secret investigation and overlooked Clues

Remember this frame from Good Omens S02E06? Apparently Aziraphale had been using the empty carton box brought by Jim to store things in. It became a new home to at least two out of three “Lost Quartos” — the supposedly lost Shakespeare plays briefly but hilariously mentioned in the Good Omens book — as well as a very mysterious legal document.

Thought probably half of the Good Omens analysts here, including the ever so wonderful @fuckyeahgoodomens, who managed to find some information about the deceased John Gibson from New Cumnock (1855 - 1905).

Unfortunately the most interesting thing about this early 20th century provincial postmaster was his youngest child James (1894 - 1973), a quite famous stage (West End!) and film actor immortalized on screen in The Master of Ballantrae (1962), Witch Wood (1964) and Kidnapped (1963).

After that particular discovery the fandom-wide search seemingly led nowhere and the topic died a premature death.

And I almost figured it out seven months ago.

“But Yuri, you’re so clever. How can somebody as clever as you be so stupid?”, you probably want to shout across a busy London street at this point. Well, let me tell you. Much like Aziraphale, I'm blindingly intelligent for about thirty seconds a day. I do not get to choose which seconds and they are not consecutive.

Only tonight the stars have aligned in an ineffable way.

For those of you who don’t follow this account, some time ago I’ve realized that John Gibson isn’t the only testator whose estate was being investigated by Aziraphale right before The Whickber Street Traders and Shopkeepers Association monthly meeting.

If you watch S2 finale closely enough, you should notice that Crowley not only stress cleans Aziraphale’s bookshop — he also goes through the books and papers on his desk between the last three angels leaving the bookshop and Maggie and Nina’s intervention. A seemingly permanent arrangement of the props post-shooting, visible in detail both on Radio Times tour and SFX magazine photo shoot, sheds even more light on this detail.

The close-ups published after S2 release are legible enough to refer us to a much more prominent historical figure, Josiah Wedgwood (1730 – 1795) — an English potter, entrepreneur and abolitionist. Founding the Wedgwood company in 1759, he developed improved pottery bodies by systematic experimentation, and was the leader in the industrialisation of the manufacture of European pottery.

Long story short, I transcribed the handwritten pages abandoned on Aziraphale’s desk, found out the source and the full text of what could be identified as Wedgwood’s last will and testament, took a walk to visit his Soho workshop, and proceeded to write a lengthy meta analysis about it.

I was today’s years old when I realized that there’s something else connecting those two dead British men.

The Scottish Post Office Directory of 1903 recorded John Gibson from New Cumnock as a “stationer and china dealer” (above) operating from the shop located in the town’s post office building.

Indeed, a close look at his post office shop window in the Henderson Building (below, bottom left) reveals an artful display of fine china and pottery next to postcards printed by Gibson.

There are multiple ways to connect this surprising link with possible S3 plot points, obviously, but it’s getting late, so let’s just name the two most important ones.

You’ve probably heard of the Holy Grail, maybe from Monty Python or Good Omens S01E03 1941 flashback. Depending on the version of the story, if can be a cup, a chalice, a bowl, or a saucer — but almost always a dish or a vessel connected personally, physically and metaphysically to Jesus (unless you’re partial to Wolfram von Eschenbach’s idea that the Grail was a stone, the sanctuary of the neutral angels who took neither side during Lucifer's rebellion).

A slightly more obscure dish related to the Son of God appears in the sixteenth chapter of the Book of Revelation as a vital part of His Second Coming. The Seven Bowls (or cups, or vials) of God’s Wrath are supposed to be poured out on the wicked and the followers of the Antichrist by seven angels:

Then I heard a loud voice from the temple telling the seven angels, “Go and pour out on the earth the seven bowls of the wrath of God.” So the first angel went and poured out his bowl on the earth, and harmful and painful sores came upon the people who bore the mark of the beast and worshiped its image.

The second angel poured out his bowl into the sea, and it became like the blood of a corpse, and every living thing died that was in the sea.

The third angel poured out his bowl into the rivers and the springs of water, and they became blood. And I heard the angel in charge of the waters say, “Just are you, O Holy One, who is and who was, for you brought these judgments. For they have shed the blood of saints and prophets, and you have given them blood to drink. It is what they deserve!” And I heard the altar saying, “Yes, Lord God the Almighty, true and just are your judgments!”

The fourth angel poured out his bowl on the sun, and it was allowed to scorch people with fire. They were scorched by the fierce heat, and they cursed the name of God who had power over these plagues. They did not repent and give him glory.

The fifth angel poured out his bowl on the throne of the beast, and its kingdom was plunged into darkness. People gnawed their tongues in anguish and cursed the God of heaven for their pain and sores. They did not repent of their deeds.

The sixth angel poured out his bowl on the great river Euphrates, and its water was dried up, to prepare the way for the kings from the east. And I saw, coming out of the mouth of the dragon and out of the mouth of the beast and out of the mouth of the false prophet, three unclean spirits like frogs. For they are demonic spirits, performing signs, who go abroad to the kings of the whole world, to assemble them for battle on the great day of God the Almighty.  (“Behold, I am coming like a thief! Blessed is the one who stays awake, keeping his garments on, that he may not go about naked and be seen exposed!”) And they assembled them at the place that in Hebrew is called Armageddon.

The seventh angel poured out his bowl into the air, and a loud voice came out of the temple, from the throne, saying, “It is done!” And there were flashes of lightning, rumblings, peals of thunder, and a great earthquake such as there had never been since man was on the earth, so great was that earthquake. The great city was split into three parts, and the cities of the nations fell, and God remembered Babylon the great, to make her drain the cup of the wine of the fury of his wrath. And every island fled away, and no mountains were to be found. And great hailstones, about one hundred pounds each, fell from heaven on people; and they cursed God for the plague of the hail, because the plague was so severe.

[writing-whump]

breathing in a bag: oh god oh god oh god, its here NO ONE PANIC.

I think Seline and Zaya are about to hit a wall of feelings thanks to him being a Silly Rabbit and not telling her "hey baby, i'm like. dying." soooo can I request some sweet sugary seline/isaiah before we're hit with the steamroller?

Date

Very sugary.

Seline was sure today was somehow special for Isaiah. She just couldn't figure out why.

He knocked on her door at 10 am in the morning, asking how many daydream sessions she finished and if she was in the mood for breakfast - in bed. That he knew that she woke up early these days only to fall asleep multiple times to daydream new story scenes or poems amazed her.

Then he brought the English Breakfast restaurant-style breakfast that made her feel equally cherished and underdressed for the occasion.

Usually, they always planned trips and days they wanted to spend together. Today, he was all, "I got a surprise. Trust me?" His excitement was contagious.

And she had to say it was quite the plan. They went to the Albertina gallery, which had two new exhibitions, one with hyper-realistic photographs and one with a political comic-style artist. She loved going to museums and galleries with Isaiah. He was literally the only person in the world who not only tolerated her long gawking and reading of every info, but also discussed the pieces with her. They stayed at each drawing for at least 15 minutes. Matthew would have blacked down after the first two.

Isaiah was not just patience manifested, he seemed to enjoy himself. Whenever he got really nerdy, talking about the psychological effect of using only three base colours or about the historical background of the photographs or about the atmosphere of certain series of photographs resonating with certain kinds of people and brain signals...

Oh god. It was the most exciting thing. She loved watching him. She loved listening to him. She loved that they both had stuff to say, but it didn't feel like a competition. She loved she didn't have to fight to get to say something, that he listed to her. She loved she was genuinely and truly interested in what he would say next. Because she wanted to know his opinions and get fascinated by all the new things he knew.

Isaiah was the only one who could impress her with the stuff he knew. Most people couldn't, aside her professors.

Seline found falling in love incredibly hard. Connecting with people in general, really. In primary school, she was popular for knowing all Disney movies by memory and for thinking up new plays for the kids to play. But since high school, she liked teachers more than any of her classmates.

And how the hell was she supposed to choose friends? Her peers kept falling in love every second day or talking about said crushes and she couldn't phantom what they liked. What was so interesting about that? The boys were little immature screaming bags to her.

Friends that weren't boring we eternally difficult to find. She didn't connect with anyone over anything. Social media weren't her thing, reading wasn't a thing for them. Really, people that shared any of her interests or love for writing were mostly online.

When she did have friends, mostly her girls from primary school and the few sciency friends from university field trips —people she actually didn't find a drag to listen to— they said Seline had too high expectations for a guy. Like, if he was as nerdy as her, he would surely be a head smaller and she better make peace with him not being a looker. Settle down, girl.

She tried dating people, but damn, was it difficult to catch feelings. Why couldn't she feel a thing? The looks weren't that important and if they were there, she figured cringing whenever the guy opened his mouth wasn't a good sign. And when he managed to get through her rigorous list of questions and plans, because how else was she supposed to test their value and interests compatibility? - the emotion was missing entirely.

Universe, could you please, please, give me a person I could admire and feel something for? Anyone like that out there?

And then she met Isaiah.

They had lunch at a small but incredibly good family sushi restaurant. For the cake, he took her to her favorite confectioanry, though, on the balcony with an awesome view, and let her order about four different desserts, when she couldn't decide. Christ, even the place was expensive.

But Isaiah had a twinkle in his eye and a constant smile. It was very rare for him to be in a good mood so openly, like watching her was the most fascinating showpiece.

She couldn't protest anything he said with that expression.

Caught in the moment of watching him, all dressed up in a dashing suit, black hair with that gentle waves to it, green eyes set only on her, she reached over. Her hand went on top of his under the chin, then gently up to stroke his cheek.

"What mask are you wearing today?"

Isaiah kissed her knuckles, too happy to even mind the PDA. "The one I wear with you. I like it the most."

Seline couldn't help the blush, ducking her head. He was more social than her, always alert, always perceptive and adjusting to the situation. Charming gentleman, yes, kind, absolutely. But he could be funny and relaxed, or serious and scary, or authoritative and confident. Every person and group, every situation, brought out a different side of him.

It confused her at the start. Now, she found it fascinating.

Once again, she was tempted to ask what today was. Why was it special? Was there an anniversary she didn't know about? It wasn't a year since they moved in together, that would be in two months. The month they have been together for a year...that would be four months. What was this? They haven't even been a pack a year ago.

The cakes were excellent, but the sweetness and intensity of the different flavours overwhelmed her quickly. She slid her plate with half of the Strawberry Mouse Cake towards Isaiah to go to the Coffee Meringue Cake. They also still had the Apple Strudel and her favorite Mango slice tart. It felt like her birthday.

Isaiah was chuckling indulgently, finishing the cakes for her. Never a better chance to try so many. And the hot chocolates they made there were to die for. When she couldn't decide between that and the Caramel Machiatto, Isaiah ordered both.

"You are spoiling me today."

Isaiah gave her a blinding smile of satisfaction.

They went by foor afterwards, through the two nicest parks and Hofburg all the way to the Danube river. It was like Isaiah had it calculated, cause the sun was just setting and they were at the perfect side of the river to see it without being blinded.

He took her hand, fingers intertwined gently, as they passed bikes and families returning from bathing, reaching a nice molo halfway across the river.

Isaiah guided her to sit down before joining her, suit and all on the wooden molo. She watched him curiously, getting a bit nervous at how heavy the moment felt.

"The sunset is beautiful," she burst out quickly.

Isaiah raised one eyebrow at the remark, smiling. He leaned close enough to kiss her, but only brushed a lock of blond hair behind her ear. "Not as much as you."

Seline bit her lip, looking at him from under her lashes.

"I know beauty isn't that high on your priority list. And I know that's not something you want to be admired for. Not for anything you were given, not for magic or for your looks."

She ducked her head. His fingers lingered in her hair.

"I know you don't go about perceiving the world through physical sensations. You relate through your mind. You want intellectual stimulation to feel connection and interests." His hand still in his hair followed the line of her head to her neck. He cupped her cheek.

"Which doesn't mean you don't have feelings. They are so intense that you prefer to save them for later. Process them in private. That's why you don't need that much stimulation, working through the little details. Understanding yourself inside out. Body comes last and you don't put emphasis on it. If you focus on it, you get bashful."

She could feel the blood rushing to her cheeks under his touch. His voice was silky smooth.

"Not that it's anything to feel ashamed of. But you feel comfortable with contact only after connection has been made. I have been trying to go slowly."

Which was true. He always let her set the pace. Make the first move.

"I don't want to scare you. And I don't want you to feel like you have to say it back." That was the first time he looked down, suddenly a little insecure, before lifting his gaze to hers again.

Her breath caught in her chest, pulse picking up.

"I love how your mind works. Constantly hungry for knowldge. Your thinking is so abstract and so creative and you are never bored, always working on some kind of thought project. Always halfway somewhere else," he said, stroking her cheek with his thumb.

"But I love everything about it. Your mind, your order rituals to keep yourself tethered to the real world, the way you read spoilers ahead to enjoy the same thing from different lenses, your broad view of things, your ability to look at things objectively but also understanding the emotion behind it..."

Seline was amazed how scarily accurate all of this was. She couldn't move under his touch, eyes getting wider.

"I love everything...about you." He looked to the side then. His fingers against her face were shaking. "Just thought you should know."

Seline shook her head, voice all stunned. "That's your new trick? You go all impressive psychology on me and analyse me, cause you know that will make you irresistible?"

Isaiah looked up, startled. "I wasn't-"

"You are ridiculous." Seline grabbed him by the collar and smashed their lips together. Her heartbeat was somewhere in her ears. It felt like she wouldn't be able to breathe if she didn't kiss him immediately.

"You know how hot I find it when you talk all smart. I had a feast of you today," she said against his nose, her hand reaching behind his neck to hold him more securely.

She said hot on purpose, cause that was a word she didn't use often. It was too vague and felt too...indecent. Some part of her was always scared of it, of being some kind of primitive animal only focused on the body.

But with Isaiah the body turned to a medium, the carrier of his soul. It was special because it held him inside, the lips that spoke to her, the spirit looking at her from his eyes. It meant something completely different, to feel this closeness. Touch became a way to express it, not threaten it.

Was she not saying it enough? How much she admired him, how much she enjoyed him? Being this smart and relaxed and doting?

"I'm a girl of words. I love words. And I love when you talk. You are never boring. I'm always learning something," she said, leaning forward to hide her face against his neck. "You have so many faces. So many masks. I want to know all of them."

Her lips brushed against the skin on the side of his throat. Isaiah shivered underneath her.

"I never felt this way...about anyone," she admitted quietly.

Isaiah took her face in his hands, making her look up at him again. "It scares me. It isn't fair to everyone else, how much I can love just you."

Why did that make her so incredibly happy.

Isaiah wrapped her in an embrace and just held her, letting their bodies take comfort from the touch while they both worked through the impact of those words.

Seline ended up leaning against his shoulder, his arm around her back as the sun set in front of them.

It was the perfect moment.

Isaiah's body jostled underneath her suddenly. His free hand moved towards his middle for a second before dropping.

Seline frowned, turning to look at him. She didn't have a good angle on his face, but her access to his throat was ideal. She could feel it bobbing as he swallowed.

She pushed her hand up into his hair gently. "Okay?"

Isaiah shook his head in denial. "Sorry. Just-urrrp-ate too much."

"Oh. All the cakes."

Isaiah suppressed another burp. "I'm sorry. Don't-don't mind it, please." His neck and cheeks went all red.

Seline chuckled, weirdly pleased. "I mean, it's kinda my fault. Kept pushing them to you." She leaned more into him, her whole side pressed into his.

Her hand went down around his back again while she sneaked her free one to his belly, tentatively pulling at his button up.

"I'm sorry, I didn't want to ruin-"

"Shhhhh." She kissed his neck and then his jaw. "It's okay, baby. You couldn't ruin this in any way. This was perfect." Another kiss under his ear. "And it's cute, just so you know."

"You say the silliest things."

"I never say anything I don't mean," she corrected smugly. "You taking your walls down just for a bit. Around me. What's not to like?"

Isaiah huffed. "You can't-"

Her hand sneaked up to his belly, cutting him off. She let her palm rest on top of it, feeling the bloat under her fingers. Having him this close, his breathing a little ragged from the discomfort and emberssment made her insides dance.

"I love this. I love you. I love everything about you." Seline nuzzled her face against his cheek, feeling incredibly intimate. The contact, his sudden shyness. The little crack in that armor he still didn't quite take down. Or was that only her feeling?

"You don't have to say it so many times," he said, scratching at the top of his head self-consciously, turning his head to blow up the air from another breathy burp.

Seline giggled, drunk on the feeling. Feeling. She was feeling so much. She let herself feel it all in that moment, everyting she felt for him. It was a flood of mind-melting, honey-coloured happiness. "I can't say it enough."

[james-stark-the-writer]

terrible news, i tried to watch the Friendly Space Ninja Riverdale finale video again and i think i've pinpointed my problem with his videos, specifically the Riverdale ones but also just his general approach to media criticism, it's just the terrible wave of "objective criticism" we had on youtube with shitheads like Mauler but framed as just a more subjective opinion and it tries to pretend like that makes it any better, which it doesn't, like it really doesn't, because the underlying assumption that there is only one way to tell any type of story is just such a terrible thing for art but also he just fundamentally doesn't understand what type of art Riverdale is and there's just such a sheer lack of even attempting to treat it as a serious piece of art because the assumption is already that because popular consensus is that it sucks (the critical consensus has actually been consistently fucking great, you could just go look at the Rotten Tomatoes scores or even check out the legacy section on Riverdale's Wikipedia page), that means it automatically is trash, it never gets the opportunity to fight for itself because it's never given the chance to be thought of as a piece of art. it's an insistence that writing is the only way to analyze an audio-visual medium and like sure, writing doesn't "age" the same way other elements might, but audiences do age and change and evolve, media criticism does too, there's a reason people appreciate the Star Wars prequels more now than they ever did at release because we understand different ways of appreciating art now beyond the base insistence that conventionally "good" writing is the only thing to aim for (the prequels are actually well written but let's not get into THAT rn), that doesn't make the prequels "bad," it just means the prequels are different. i find the whole good/bad paradigm pretty suffocating in the first place but this is just so exhausting and i cannot believe that I've just managed to articulate it bc it seems shockingly obvious in retrospect.

also the video in question is just like factually wrong multiple times, he flat out admits he skips a lot of the season but then complains that the season doesn't make sense when he's jumping in at a random point, he complains that the previous seasons are meaningless but it's like has he forgotten that the audience doesn't forget stuff even if the characters have (and they even get their memories back in a thematically important and resonant moment the defines who the characters want to be so it's not really even entirely sound criticism) and that the show is intentionally trying to do interesting parallels and reversals of the stuff we've seen before, it's like commenting on itself because season 7 is a nostalgic look back at what the comics have been and what the show started from, and about the nostalgic feelings of that time and their appeal contrasted with the brutal truths of the reality of the situation, like this is just basic art criticism, i'm not even like trying to defend the season, like i don't even like season 7 that much, i think it's one of the more boring seasons and it ranks towards the middle for me, but like this is not like deep criticism where you're thinking and analyzing a lot, this is just seeing what the plot of the episodes is and what they're trying to communicate, it's just really irritating how fucking exhausting the objective criticism shit is but it's actually even more grating when you don't pretend to be superior about it because it makes it seem like you're not even bold enough to stand by your opinions and actually embrace the implication present in the shit you are saying, like it's just cowardice, honestly. but anyway, glad i figured it out, because it was honestly irritating me that i couldn't articulate why i didn't like those videos beyond just them being wrong about Riverdale on like a factual level and him just not understanding what it's trying to say as a piece of art.

the point of this isn't to say that i think he's making these arguments in bad faith or anything, i do think these are genuinely opinions he holds, and they are valid opinions for him to hold, i'm not saying they're invalid, you can prefer one aspect of a piece of media over other aspects because it's more important to you, that's okay, i'm just saying they're misinformed takes and generally display a shocking lack of imagination and respect for art and no desire to broaden his horizons.

anyway, if you actually want to understand the appeal of Riverdale, go through the Riverdale tag on my blog for my own analysis (but here's somewhere to get started), or if you want videos, the Super Eyepatchwolf video is pretty good, i still disagree with it a lot but at least the man tries to understand why people like the show and he even gets some part of the appeal, and we are going to get 4 5-hour videos from Lily Simpson over the next few months so i'm looking forward to those, bc Lily generally tends to at least understand the appeal of the stuff she talks about, and the title of the first video ("the captivating madness of Riverdale" [though i don't love the use of "madness"]) is already enough to make me feel like somebody kinda gets it and hopefully it'll be more coherent actual art analysis.

[eerna]

i’ve been back on my hadestown bullshit (listening to the album on repeat) and you make such good points about the lyrics being dumbed down and how it does a disservice to the narrative and characters. it’s such an artful, creative show that constantly adapts and changes so why not take some risks with lyrics that may take a few times to sink in? that’s the beauty of listening to it through many times. i catch something new that just punches me in the gut each time (also love your hadestown art it’s so good)

Thank youuu glad you like my stuff :3 Yeah!! I think ultimately it comes down to two things, confidence and Broadway requirements. Anais Mitchell isn't hiding how much she struggled writing the show and balancing between artsy, well crafted, and understandable. She also stated many things have been cut because the show was too long for Broadway and they were required to trim it. To both I say, HUH?? First off, Anais Mitchell honed her craft to perfection. No other musical ever managed to drive me to tears with moodsetting "oohs". She wrote a godly love song that sounds like a godly love song. She deserves all the confidence in the WORLD. But she also never hid that Hadestown is a very personal story influenced by her experience as a free artist, so on the other hand, I totally get that no amount of success can ever truly heal your inner critic, and she will always keep trying to adjust her work. As for the second point, I know at least some of the dumbing down is because the audiences complained. I saw Hadestown live 5 years after seeing a bootleg of it, and in those 5 years they added so many cheap jokes and dishonest tension breaks it is Crazy. But I DID notice in older bootlegs that people laughed at inappropriate times, they seemed like they expected something funny to be happening in every scene because they went to a musical and so picked some really weird spots, which doesn't happen in any of the recordings of the new jokey edition. So in dumbing itself down, the musical mamaged to become more understandable to the audience at large. In fact, even after all the changes, at the theater I overheard people talking in the pause, and they agreed the show is "too confusing" and "they can't tell what exactly is happening and if it is real or not". I can imagine that is a frustrating experience when you paid a good chunk of money to see a show, but also bro, google is Right There. Most people just don't have the will to sit down and listen to a pretty piece of media multiple times to figure it out! And sadly shows can't survive only on those who do! To bring this long ramble to a close, we are right back to art existing under capitalism and how one can't simply make GOOD art, they need to make PROFITABLE art, and that is pretty sucky

[dragon-creates]

I’m looking for an artist to collab with for an AU

Hello! If you don’t know me already, my name is Dragon, the author of the TADC fics 5+1 and Royally Screwed (and also a funnybunny shipper). However, I am coming up with a totally new AU, something similar to the carnival and freakshow au as well as inspiration from Bendy and the Ink Machine, Poppy Playtime and Amanda the Adventurer.

I call it ‘The Amazing Digital REDACTED’ au.

In this au, you ‘the player’ play as Jax, an ex-employee of C&A returning to the abandoned building in order to find the rest of your work employees after a mysterious incident years ago. With hidden knowledge that he must enter the game in order to find them, Jax does just that while managing to retain his memories. Along with his accomplice Bubble (a helpful AI who wants to free the rest of the trapped souls) and some help from his friend Winter (yes Winter from 5+1 will be in this but that fic isn’t canon to this au) on the outside, Jax tries to fix his past mistakes and save everyone – especially a particular jester he loved and lost long ago.

Yup that’s right, Jax will be the main character of this au and you will be playing as him. Let me explain, there is a feature on AO3 that allows you to make multiple choices on how you want the story to play out, like a telltale video game if you understand what I’m saying. You will get to pick and choose how Jax goes about his adventure and receive more than one ending (with a canon ending as well). And yes, this au’s main ship is funnybunny as I believe that it deserves more recognition and I find that these two in this au are very interesting to explore (especially with their past).

However, this fic is going to take quite a long time to make and is going to be bigger than anything else that I have written in the past. That is why I want to team up with a fellow TADC/funnybunny artist (since I am not an artist and do better with writing and characters) and create a separate blog for this au to come up with comics and art together. If you’ve seen the blogs for the Carnival and Freakshow au’s, you know that with their comics and art they explore more of the world, drop some lore, do character sheets and explain the pasts of the characters. This is what I’m hoping for if I team up with an artist. This au will mostly be on tumblr however if it does well I might add it to twitter as well since I’m putting this post on twitter as well.

Here are what I have pictured for the characters so far.

Jax: Past name; Jack. Ex employee of C&A, main character and who you the player will be playing as. Before the ‘incident’, Jax used to work at C&A as part of a coding team, to make sure that there were no bugs before any games were released. While C&A wasn’t on his list of jobs to pick, it was the only one that seemed best due to the pay and the fact that they could pay for schooling for those with children. Since Jax has a little sister named Jane, and has no parental figures in his life, he takes the job in order to help pay for the both of them and to make sure that Jane gets a good education. Unlike his canon TADC counterpart, Jax is more quiet, tired and while sarcastic, isn’t all out cruel to everyone unless they are bad people (think Mike from the FNAF movie especially with his relationship with his younger sister). He becomes quite close with his boss’s daughter however, Penny (Pomni) with him starting to develop feelings for the shy girl. However, after the day of the ‘incident’ Jax is left with nothing but guilt since he knew things that contributed to that day. Now he has a chance to make things right and save everyone, and Pomni.

Pomni: Past name; Penny. Ex employee of C&A and daughter of the CEO Abel, Pomni is an extremely introverted and socially awkward person, due to being traumatised by her mother’s death. She and her father don’t have a good relationship, with reasons that will become clearer later. She was quite close to the past version of Ragatha, but other than her father, she doesn’t really have a relationship with anyone. She likes to work alone to focus on the numbers and accounting part of her job (she understands numbers more than people) until she meets Jack. Though Jack is usually a bit standoffish, he is sweet to Penny due to her shy nature and helps keep an eye on her throughout their jobs so that she doesn’t feel too overwhelmed. Overcome by his sudden kindness and protectiveness, Penny starts to develop feelings for Jax. However, after the day of the ‘incident’ she is now trapped in the game, forever a jester trapped in a box…until Jax shows up.

If you’d like to be an artist for this au and collab with me, you can send me a DM or @ me. Do either of these and a sketch of the characters and I will reach out to you and confirm that you can be my partner for this project.

Here are some visuals on how I envision the characters.

Jax:

Sans the goggles, think of Jax wearing this over his grey and dirty overalls, he could also be holding a makeshift weapon like a bat or a stick so that he can fight off enemies. This version of Jax is much more serious and he is ready to fight in order to get the job done.

Pomni:

(on the last pic, focus on the makeup rather than the outfit)

Overly baggy and childish, with blue and black instead of blue and red. This design is a reminder of her past trauma and as so, is implemented into her circus features. Due to it being too big for her, it makes it hard for her to run and escape, and the ridiculousness of it all is a huge slap in the face that this is her new life now and is fully erased of her past.  Even the makeup covers up any kind of normalcy on her face.

Well that’s it for now, I hope you guys take this into consideration and I hope you all have a lovely day/afternoon/night.

[scienceoftheidiot]

Tag game for fanfiction authors !

I was tagged by both @the-blue-eyed-firebender and @lassusog, thank you so much to both of you !!

The story you're proudest of: 

I have two in mind, but I will be talking about the other one later, and I want to talk about a finished one. I’m incredibly proud of us, @qs63 and myself, for “My own worst friend and my own closest enemy” (does it surprise anyone that I am the one who chose the title? BTW fun fact, it comes from the same song as my username). I’m proud of us for  writing a four hands fic relatively seamlessly, and managing to get to the end of it in a relatively short time. It was a blast from start to finish, and I’m also glad it seems to still get love a year after we finished publishing. Bonus, it’s still very fun to re-read for me because I only wrote 50% of it so I don’t remember everything and I get surprised every time haha. We managed to make a fic that also delves into character study for both BH and 03 Roy and Riza, and that was INCREDIBLY FUN. Best time. 

Your story that's gotten the most love online:

We don’t talk about failures Murdocks Never Quit in this house so let’s talk about one I’m actually proud of (at least I did learn from my mistakes). Besides, it seems to have gotten that much insane love without me even knowing or being told it so uh. Nevermind. That just couldn't work, could it.

Of course since it’s a very long fic with multiple chapters the one which has received the most love is All the hope (not that people read more long fics but statistically more people are exposed to it thanks to the new chapters updates), which I am very proud and insanely happy about, because at first I wasn’t even planning to publish it. And now I’m gladly on the way to finish this monster of a fic and already planning the second part. Go figure XD but I am so so grateful for everyone who has given a chance to it and for those who keep on reading. Extra bonus for you who leave all these detailed comments at each chapters, all of you, you have no idea how you’ve kept me afloat all year. And kept/keep me writing. All the love for you. Thank you so much. 

Tease a current WIP or idea you're working on: 

I’m already thinking of what I could do once I’m done publishing All the hope, and I have some WIPs lying around. The most developed one has already been partially written, and I’m considering trying to start posting it with a long delay between chapters, to allow me to work on multiple things at once. Not sure it’s a good idea, though. This one, some of my followers might know about, has for working name “1923”, and explores the lives of the Roy and Riza of OUR universe that we don’t get to see in Conqueror of Shamballa. I couldn’t NOT have fun with sending Roy into WW1, I mean, ME. SENDING CHARACTERS INTO WW1? HOW SURPRISING. I even managed to find a historically accurate way to send Riza to war without making a nurse out of her (which. No. No nurse Riza for me, unless you count her nursing Roy back to health)(of course, who do you think I am, you know what I write). There’s of course all the other characters that pop up here and there. And yes of course this is 100% Royai lol (UPDATE : I don't know what possessed me. It's a Royai fic alright. However. There are surprises in it. If I don't mention that I know someone will come and kill me with her bare hands. Lol. Royai with a twist I guess?)

Your top 3 fandoms:

I don’t know if I can count FMA 03 and Brotherhood/manga as different fandoms lol so FMA, Daredevil (comics or show, but they ARE different characters)(I'm more of a comics Matt lover, to everyone's surprise), and Ripper Street (everyone watch Ripper Street please and you will thank me after wanting to kill me). 

Your top 3 ships:

Royai, Havoroyai (didn’t specify I can’t have OT3), Havoroy yes there is a pattern here.

Wait was I supposed to talk about different fandoms? Then Matt/Karen and Edmund/his hat (and anyone who would be willing to give some love to this disaster of a man). 

Rec someone else's fic:

Your Warmth Against My Scars by @lassusog. Just. It’s just so good. Perfect angst, perfect characterisation, and so, so, so good on all parts I just can’t seem to find the words and it makes me insane. Read it if you haven’t already, re-read it if you have, which is what I’m planning to do. 

Pick one!

Fluff or Angst (or both, they gotta earn the fluff)

Oneshots or longfics

Canon compliance or canon divergence

AO3 or FF.net

I tag @qs63, @wellbehaveddolphin, I think all the other royai people have been tagged already ? My memory is Swiss cheese so if you haven't and you see this, please do it. And I'll extend to @mabonetsamhain, @residentdormouse, @littleragondin and @riotbrrrd :)

[susiecarter]

hi!! hope you're doing well!! just wanted to check in as you haven't updated your projects page in a while (not that you have to! but you're one of my fav writers of all time so just got worried) also, if you're seeing this, how goes the arranged marriage au? (and if u can sprinkle in some writing advice, that'd be great, tho srsly i feel like i'm asking a little too many things lmao so feel free to ignore)

/o\ :D Hi, anon, and thank you so much for checking in! No need to worry—I'm absolutely fine, I've just been ludicrously busy (my job changed somewhat at the end of last year and I acquired New Responsibilities; figuring out how to handle those and still have as much time as I need to write and to reply to comments has taken me six months :'D but I think I've mostly gotten the hang of it, hence me finally starting to catch up on my inboxes both here and on the AO3).

AND, ngl, I am absolutely delighted to hear that you were looking at the Projects page! :D That was honestly three-quarters me experimenting with the new theme I set up, haha (and the reason I threw a "last updated" date on there was 100% because if I got busy, I knew I was definitely going to start forgetting to update that sucker). I've updated it today, and the good news/bad news breakdown on the arranged marriage AU is: good news, I am still working on it; bad news, it is super not done. :'D I've got some other shorter stuff that should be done sooner than that (including some Bruce/Clark!), but I'm hoping to make that this year's Big Long Bruce/Clark Fic. Obviously I also have not made a whole lot of progress on some other things on that list :D but here's hoping I can fix that this summer!

As for writing advice, I've written a few posts in the past about my process, how I approach managing character identity, and my tl;dr thoughts on characterization, pacing, dialogue, and prose rhythm, if you haven't seen one or another of those! Honestly, working on my writing has been a real process of self-discovery for me :'D so I'd say my bottom-line "if you do nothing else, do this" of writing advice is: try things! Try different techniques, try outlining and not outlining, try doing writing exercises and not doing writing exercises, try sitting down to write a few hundred words each day and try only writing when you feel inspired to do it ... Everybody is different, everybody's brains and subconscious creative sources are different, and stuff that works for other people might work for you or it might not, but you won't know if you don't try it all multiple ways and see which approach feels the best to you.

Personally, I used to not outline at all, and I wrote the scenes that came to me in my head first and then went back to fill in the gaps—and that worked okay, it was fine, but as it turns out I'm MUCH better off when I outline every! single! time! and also my odds of completing a story I'm working on increase about 5,000% if I write it straight through from start to finish. I thought I knew what worked the best for me! I was wrong! :'D But I wouldn't have found out I was wrong if I hadn't decided to try outlining, and then decided to ditch how other people outline and outline in the way that worked for me, and then tried writing straight through, tried writing every single day and sucked at it BUT trying to write every day is actually good for me, it's just I have to let myself not do it if it's not working, &c &c. So, yeah, try stuff, don't get too stuck on doing anything one specific way, and sooner or later you'll figure out how you work, what gets your brain doing its best writing, and you'll be able to get it to do its best writing more and more often. :D

[softandwigglybones]

And it's done!

@aromanticsky this one is for you, I hope its an enjoyable read. (also, thank you for the suggestions, they made one of the hardest parts of writing much easier)

If you want to read on not-tumblr, I've also posted it here:

https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/75608/short-stories-for-practice/chapter/1731876/the-ogre-a-myriorama-inspired-short-story

Lastly, a few of my thoughts:

I'm starting to notice 2 issues with my writing.

One, about halfway through I completely lose the plot and have to make up something on the spot. I'm not sure if it's noticeable (it probably is), but I began having problems right around the second forest clearing.

And two, I keep falling into world-building. It would probably be a good tendency to have for anyone else, but I keep introducing random facts about things and creatures, and I'm afraid its detracting from the story.

And now for the story:

In the lands of Duskellfan, things were often not as they seemed. It was a land of fantasy and mystery, filled to the brim with various kinds of mystiques.

Well, for the most part, that is. Some places, places like the small village of Gnirsk, the day to day life was quite mundane. People ate, slept, worked and celebrated, and in general simply lived a good life. Yes, it wasn’t always perfect, nothing is, but the people of Gnirsk pushed through it all and held together during the tough times.

There was only one issue, one stubbornly persistent thorn in their side that the villagers couldn’t get rid of. One that they never managed to figure out the solution to. Every day, at seemingly random intervals, a deep and disconcerting rumble could be heard from deep within the forest. It happened multiple times a day, and nobody knew the cause of this disturbance. And worst of all, it wasn’t even unusual for it to sound out in the middle of the deep deep night, waking the whole village and causing unrest.

Frankly speaking, the whole of Gnirsk’s peaceful village life was turned on its head due to the forest’s strange rumble, so the villagers decided something had to be done. First, they sent a message out to a nearby town, a proper city. Surely, someone there would known what to do, right? But the messenger returned crestfallen, with no help whatsoever.

Deciding to take matters into their own hands, the people of Gnirsk assembled a small expedition, one to penetrate deep into the heart of the forest and see what was causing all the commotion. Once there, they’d put a rest to it, violently if necessary.

Unfortunately, it was not to be. For the first time in the village’s history, its complete and utter mundanity came as a detriment. As if by magic, the whole expedition got turned around within the forest and exit in the exact same space that they had entered it. But so convinced were they of the non-existence of the magical that they refused to believe anything strange could be afoot. So naturally, they tried again. After all, surely it must’ve simply been a failure on the navigator’s part, they thought. And yet, the same thing happened over and over again, no matter how many times they tried to mount an expedition.

Time passed, and the villagers were forced to get used to their daily disruptions. Simply put, the unfortunate situation would have to stay.

That is, until many moons later, when a new development occurred. As it so happens every now and then, a caravan was passing through the village of Gnirsk when the forest’s rumble resonated through the air. Now, the villagers had mostly gotten used to it by that point, some more than others, but the same could not be said about the caravanners.

Understandably, some of them panicked. Only once they saw the villagers going about their day as usual, as if nothing strange had happened and everything was normal, did they calm down. Things then continued mostly as you’d expect them to. The people form the caravan asked the people from Gnirsk some questions about what had just happened, shrugged their shoulders, then proceeded to go on with their trading.

But this is where we stop following the larger picture and instead focus on the story of one person in particular. A caravan child by the name of Sorramyna.

Now, Sorramyna wasn’t really a child. But being the youngest member of the caravan, plus having also grown up with the caravan not helping the matter, everyone else on it continued to refer to hir as kid, kiddo, or some other variant of that. But I digress.

Sorramyna had, naturally, also heard the deep rumble. How could ze not? After all, it rang out far and wide, louder than any bells of worldly make. And ze was curious. What could make such a strange and unearthly sound? A dragon, a creature ze had heard so much about on hir travels? Perhaps an otherworldly demon, trapped in the overworld? Or maybe even an Ancient, a true creature of legend?

It stood without a doubt that Sorramyna was curious. Curious and young, the deadliest of combinations. It therefore also stood without a doubt that, as a consequence of said curiosity, ze would want to find out more.

Later that night, when most of the others had already gone to sleep (some due to less natural causes than others), Sorramyna got up and quietly snuck outside. Outside the caravan, outside the village, and still further out ze went. It didn’t take long for hir to arrive by the forest, its deep depth almost physically alluring to the adventure-starved Sorramyna. With a deep breath to steel hir nerves, Sorramyna stepped forth into the arboreal labyrinth.

For a time, nothing much happened. Simply a normal walk through a normal forest. Admittedly, yes, it was night out which made it somewhat scarier, but still normal. As far as Sorramyna could tell, it was just a regular old forest. This illusion, however, did not last long.

With one slight misstep, Sorramyna’s foot caught on a protruding root, and ze fell. Surprisingly enough, at least for hir, the ground did not break hir fall. No, instead, just as ze would have impacted with the forest floor, something parted in front of hir and swallowed hir whole.

Now, worry not dear reader, for this is not the end for our intrepid adventurer. That being said, feel free to take this moment to pause, consider the story up until now. Maybe go and have a drink, get a snack, take any meds you may need to, or even go for a short walk. And when you’ve done that, return here and see the fate of Sorramyna.

A little bit of time passed and Sorramyna woke up in a strange and unfamiliar space. More unfamiliar than the forest already had been. The sky was, luckily enough, still dark, stars twinkling across it. Not much time could have passed. Nonetheless, Sorramyna grew worried. Ze didn’t know where ze was, and especially not how to get back back to the village. All ze could see were strange plants as far as the eye could see, which wasn’t particularly far this deep into the forest. It had practically transformed into a jungle. The plants, other than being strange, were also somewhat snake-like and covering almost every available surface. Moreover, about half of the snake-vines were also overgrown by a lush moss.

Still, there was no use despairing. As much as Sorramyna was unprepared for this adventure, ze knew from all the folk stories ze had grown up listening to that giving up was not an option. So, with a deep breath, ze stood up and once more stepped forth into the unknown.

This time, the journey was much more arduous. No longer was it a nice hike through a tame forest. Instead, Sorremyna had to force hir way through. Climbing over natural barricades, crawling beneath fallen trees of immense proportions, and in general avoiding all of the forest growth that somehow, inexplicably, always seemed to go into hir face.

But the young mind is nothing if not determined, so ze persevered. At last, ze broke through a truly dense wall of greenery to reveal a small, quaint little clearing. At the centre of which grew a truly majestic and enormous tree, thick enough that it’d take at least half a dozen people to encircle it.

Of course, Sorramyna approached it. And when ze was only a few metres away from the tree, the deep rumble that had lured hir there sounded out. Only, it was no longer a dulled and distant sound, coming from deep within the forest. No, it came from right above Sorramyna. Ze looked up, and stood shocked frozen.

The tree was not a tree at all, but the leg of a truly ginormous creature. There, right above Sorremyna, stood a humanoid that could not be described as anything other than giant.

It was an ogre, a people rarely seen in these lands. How could one have arrived here without raising a huge stir, our adventurer wondered. Ze didn’t have long to wonder, as it was right around that moment that the ogre itself spotted hir.

It started to bend down to get a better look at Sorramyna, but halfway through it stopped and let out a pained bellow. That was the sound the village had been hearing all this time. The rumble was the ogre’s cry for help.

In place of bending down further, it simply pointed deeper into the forest where a faint column of smoke could be seen rising into the sky. This did not answer many of Sorramyna’s questions, if anything, it only brought up more. Be that as it may, ze went on following the ogre’s directions regardless. Ze had come too far already to turn back now. Besides, following the ogre’s directions could only provide more of an explanation, and maybe ze would even be able to help out.

Only once Sorramyna was passing by the ogre’s leg, what ze had presumed to be the trunk of a tree, did ze see the ogre’s foot. Coincidentally, it had been entirely hidden behind the leg, but now ze could see that indeed it was no tree. The foot was so large it was almost comical, the only exception being the overgrown nails which did not look healthy at all. Still, there was no use dwelling on such things.

Into the dense jungle it was again. This time, even more obstacles came into Sorramyna’s path, and ze was sure that ze had already seen that one boulder at least a couple of times now. Yet, no matter what manner of magic and tricker was afoot, ze stayed on hir path and pushed forth.

Once more, ze pushed through a wall of greenery, and once more a clearing revealed itself before hir eyes. This one, however, did not house a huge foot disguised as a tree. At the other end of the clearing, a cosy little hut stood nestled by some trees.

The hut, more of a small cottage really, only had one single window next to its door, through which a warm light was escaping into the clearing. It would appear someone was home.

Sorramyna, ever the embodiment of the adventuring spirit, approached and fearlessly knocked on the door. For a second, there was nothing but absolute quiet. Then came some slow steps from the inside and finally, with a slow creak, the door opened.

There, in the doorway, stood a small and hunched over figure. A witch, Sorramyna thought. And while that may very well have been true, you never talk about the identity of witches, especially not in the presence of one. Sorramyna therefore smartly kept quiet about that thought and instead politely inquired about the ogre that had sent hir this way.

The witch that may not be a witch did not looked pleased by that at all. Seeing their crinkled face and gradually furrowing brows, Sorramyna did the reasonable thing and took a step back. And what good luck it is that ze did so, as in the very next moment the door slammed in hir face, and what followed would have certainly flattened hir into the earth.

Sorramyna was leaving the clearing, about to head back to the ogre, when ze heard a loud sort of cracking sound behind hirself. There, the old hut gradually rose from out of the earth, revealing itself to be stood on one massive chicken leg. The hut then promptly hopped away, heading in the direction of the ogre, bulldozing all the plant-life in its way.

When the shock wore off and the dust had settled, all that remained of the hut was a half-rotten stump of a tree in its place, along with a rusty old axe wedged inside.

Adrenaline pumping, Sorramyna hastily ran over to the stump, grabbed the axe, and hurried after the escaping hut. It wasn’t difficult at all to follow its tracks, what with the trail of destruction it had left behind, and soon ze had arrived back in the ogre’s clearing.

The clearing was almost unrecognizable. For one, it was much larger than the last time Sorramyna had seen it. Numerous trees along the edge had been torn out of the earth leaving behind naught but dirt holes. Only a lucky few trees even had stumps remaining, the rest were nowhere to be seen. In short, it was the sight of a wasteland that greeted hir.

The ogre itself, towering over the trees and now with both legs visible, stood near the middle of the carnage. It was scanning its surrounding, cautious and maybe even afraid.

When it spotted Sorremyna, it froze for a single instant. Sorremyna hirself was likewise rooted to the ground, shocked by what ze what seeing. After all, just minuted prior this had been a beautiful forest clearing and now, now it was this.

In that one instant, they both reached a silent understanding. Sadly, the moment would not last long. A familiar looking building sped out of the forest, hurtling itself at the ogre. It was the witch’s hut, propelling itself with its one giant chicken foot.

But a witch hut is not a normal hut, no matter how mundane it may look. And even once it has revealed its unusual attributes, like let’s say a chicken foot, there’s still always more to it than one may expect.

Just when the hut was about to collide with the ogre, it split horizontally in half and revealed a slobbering toothy maw. The witch was nowhere in sight. All that aside, the ogre was about to have a bite taken out of its flesh.

Or it would have, had it not known what was about to happen. The battle had been going on for some time when Sorramyna arrived, and this wasn’t the first charge the ogre had to fend off. It lifted a hand, revealing a hardy tree in its grasp, and positioned the improvised shield between itself and the hut.

The hut, unable to stop at the speed it was going, bit into the trunk of the tree. At that point the ogre lifted it alongside the tree and swung. Both of them, the tree and the witch’s hut, flew through the air far far away. There, they crash-landed and for a while, it was quiet.

Now, Sorramyna was understandably still quite shocked by this. Ze had been just a normal caravan kid not too long ago. Nothing had prepared hir for anything even resembling such a situation. Despite all that, despite being fully out of hir depth, Sorramyna acted.

Ze heaved the rusty axe and ran over to the ogre. Which was a poor choice and ze was lucky the ogre didn’t mistake that for an attack. Then, ze shouted as loud as ze could, “How do I help?”

Normally, such a shout would be futile. The ogre did not speak the language of humans, and even if it did it had not the vocal cords to reply. Normally, communication would have crashed right there and then. Normally.

But as we all know, few things are truly normal. And in it that moment, the ogre understood. What else could the little creature want but to help? What else could that hopeful look in the little creature’s eyes mean? Such did the ogre think, and so it acted accordingly.

It bent down, letting out a slightly muted bellow of pain, and held out its hand, palm up. Sorramyna tentatively laid one foot onto the palm, and when the ogre didn’t do anything, stepped fully onto it. Suddenly, ze was ascending through the air. With a groan the ogre rose to its full height, many times larger than even the tallest trees, and gently put Sorramyna onto its shoulder.

The view was incredible. All around, an emerald sea of trees extended until it met with the horizon. It as breathtaking. Except for one tiny imperfection. In one far off spot of the forest a dust trail that extended even further away could be seen. And it was getting closer. It was the witch and their hut.

With a startling realization, Sorramyna realized that all around the clearing, like the spikes of a sea urchin, there were numerous other dust trails that were only slowly settling down. The ogre must have fended off at least a dozen of those charges, ze thought.

The ogre, in the meantime, reached over to the edge of the clearing and tore another tree out of the earth. All the while it did not move from its spot one bit. Truly, ogres were a massive people.

Sorramyna was thrown out of hir reverie when the ogre made a gentle grunting noise, a decidedly different sound to its pained cries. It made a gesture with the tree, as if it was defending from the hut even though it was still minutes away. Then it pointed to Sorramyna and then to the phantom hut it was defending from. It repeated the motion a few times, making sure ze understood, before locking its sight onto the fast approaching dust trail.

Unfortunately, Sorramyna did not understand. Ze knew it wanted something from hir, but that may be was a mystery to hir. Ze wouldn’t get much time to consider it. Next thing ze knew, the hut once more dashed out of the forest, heading straight for the ogre.

Almost perfectly, the scene from before repeated. The hut split open to reveal gnashing teeth, the ogre positioned the tree trunk in front of it, and the hut bit onto the tree. However, the throw did not follow. The ogre made no move to fling the little monster house away, and the hut realized it too. Its nasty, big, pointy teeth began to churn, slowly chipping away at the tree shield.

The ogre made a panicked sound, urging Sorramyna to do what it had asked of hir, and with horror, Sorramyna realized what the ogre had been asking hir to do. But time was running out, the beastly hut was almost through the tree, and there was no room for hesitation.

Sorramyna closed hir eyes, and jumped.

The landing was surprisingly soft, the hut’s roof not the hard wood one would expect but an almost elastic material. Sorramyna took a moment to orient hirself. The hut was shaking in all directions as it was gnawing through the wood, causing hir to scramble to hold onto something or risk falling off.

With not much to hold on to at all, Sorramyna did the only reasonable thing ze could. Ze grasped tight the rusty axe and embedded it inside the roof. Then, two things happened.

One, an unexpected spray of a foul liquid burst out of the axe inflicted wound.

But more importantly, two. The hut went into a frenzy. The pain woke it up from its wood demolishing trance, causing it to realize there was something standing right atop it. Like an enraged bull, it let got of the ogre’s almost entirely demolished shield and started thrashing, trying to throw off whatever it was that had hurt it.

Meanwhile, the thing that had hurt it was not having a good time at all. Sorramyna, now completely out of hir depth, was doing everything to just hold onto the axe. Ze couldn’t even see what was going on around hir, the thrashing making everything a blur.

The ogre, on the other hand, finally had a brief bout of respite. However, it knew that if it did not do anything, said respite would truly be brief.

So, it did what it had planned to do from the very beginning. It took advantage of its huge size and neutralized the hut in one simple move.

One moment, an old hut on a chicken leg was raging around the clearing like a mad bull, the next it hung upside down, held by the very same chicken’s foot. Like that, it could not do anything, not even scratch at the hand holding it. Sorramyna, once ze calmed down, let go of the axe and dropped down onto the ground.

Seeing that its helper was safe and sound, the ogre lifted the hut higher into the air until it stood face to maw with the ogre. At which point it started shaking it up and down. Up and down it went, soon causing the hut to let out gurgling noise after gurgling noise. Still, the ogre did not stop.

Sorramyna watched on with wonder, and a fair bit of bewilderment. Mostly bewilderment.

At last, the hut had had enough. With one final gurgle, it opened its maw wide disgorging a small, shrivelled figure, along with a bunch of miscellaneous stuff. The figure, soaked in strange digestive juices, slowly stirred awake.

To Sorramyna’s shock, it was the witch from earlier. Except that they looked much weaker that before. They were even smaller than when ze had seen them in the hut’s door, their face much more wrinkled, and skin a sickly pale, almost green.

The ogre once more reached out, but to Sorramyna’s surprise it did not squash the witch like a bug. Instead, it gently took them and laid them on a soft patch of grass that miraculously remained untouched by the battle, away from the fluids the hut had regurgitated along with them.

Now, Sorramyna was truly confused. Had the witch not caused all of this? Should they not be punished, held accountable for the unrest they had caused? But the ogre knew the full story, and so it waited, hut still held high and prevented from doing a thing.

Time passed and sunrise came near. Sorramyna had long grown bored of the wait and retrieved the axe from the hut, to at least somewhat amuse hirself by chopping into one of the fallen trees.

At last, with the first rays of the sun, the witch awoke. They looked around confused at first, but once they saw the ogre holding the hut, a rueful look washed over them.

The ogre, on the other hand, let out a loud bellow. For the first time, Sorramyna heard it voice something other than pain or distress. The ogre laughed.

Only then did the witch spot Sorramyna. Ze hirself had no idea what to do, and by the looks of it neither did they. Luckily, the ogre was there to facilitate conversation.

The witch seemed to understand its strange grunts, moans, and bellows. But they did not reply with the same, nor in a language Sorramyna spoke. It truly was a strange sight for hir.

Eventually, they both reached some sort of understanding and the witch turned to hir. “Thank you for helping us, and apologies for all the trouble my mistake must have caused,” they spoke. “I can’t give much in return now, but if we ever meet again, hesitate not to ask for assistance,” they paused for a moment, as if considering, and then added, “In the meantime, remember this: Huts in woods are very strange, I beg you to not engage. Beware please of mimicry, lest it not go swimmingly.”

With that cryptic message, they and the ogre nodded at each other. Both of them turned towards Sorramyna, bowed, and the witch said one last thing, “I am the watcher of the forest, making sure none are left malnourished. ‘Tis my guardian eternal, protecting from the infernal. Remember us and speak our names, if you ever need some avails.”

Then, as if by magic, they disappeared.

It was another strange sight, one to add to the many ze had seen that night. With both the ogre and the presumed witch gone, or the watcher and the guardian as they named themselves, Sorramyna had no more reason to stay. There was utterly no trace left of them, not even the hut or its regurgitate. The only hint was the devastated clearing, but as ze watched on, even that began to slowly grow over.

Only one, well two, things hadn’t disappeared. The rusty old axe, and the piece of wood ze had been cutting into with it.

Perhaps it was unnecessary, maybe a complete waste of time, but Sorramyna brought both along with hir. If nothing else than to convince hirself that what had happened that night was not a dream.

Once ze returned to the village of Gnirsk, things quickly fell into old rails. Ze returned an hour or two after sunrise, when the caravan was slowly preparing to head off. The others from the caravan asked hir where ze had been, but Sorramyna simply half-heartedly shrugged and said in the forest.

So, the caravan left. They had done the trading they wanted and there was no reason to stay. It would be a while until the villagers realized the forest’s bellows had stopped, and even longer for Sorramyna to inspect the metal of hir rusty axe. But that is a story for another time, and the mystic rune that appeared on hir axe would remain hidden for some time yet.

[steddieunderdogfics]

Today is all about @spicysix! In today's Mod Spotlight, we're highlighting Lui and all they bring to this space!!

Lui handles our Challenge Monday and Theme Weekend Days! They queue up and handle any initial recs for those days, as well as keeping track of how many recs we need for each day!

lui (she/they) has discovered fandom life over 13 years ago and went through multiple fandoms since then. currently focusing on Stranger Things, they're an occasional writer and avid reader, and a multishipper at heart - but Steddie is her favorite ship to read in the ST fandom. she took a role as a mod on Steddie Underdog Fics trying to embrace a side of fandom that they haven't before, and it's been a great to be a part of it!

Having Lui on the team has been a blessing! Not only is she easy to work with and so kind, she's really helped level up this space in so many ways. I'm so glad I get to work with her! - ohstars

As a part of our mod spotlight, Lui answered some questions from you all and our team! You can read them below.

Be sure to stay tuned for more recs and future mod spotlights in the future!

What drew you to Steddie?

The opposites-yet-so-similar situation they have going on. Rich guy versus poor guy? Popular versus the loser? Jock versus nerd? But both with hearts of gold… Self sacrificing idiots…. Older brother figures… Smart in some ways but stupid in others… Stuck to high school ideas and dynamics… All of it is tasty.

What is your favorite thing about modding this page?

Getting to know many new fics! My TBR list has grown over what I can manage since I’ve started modding. My companions, Stars and Shane are also amazing and it’s great working with them.

What are your favorite tropes to read?

Probably strangers or friends to lovers. Or like, a one sided rivalry (usually comes from Eddie, who haaaates King Steve while Just-A-Guy-Steve never thought about Eddie before the UD shit lmao). I’m also a sucker for Soulmates AU; and anyone who knows me knows this: my favorite EVER is the timeloop. Ugh. My beloved.

What is your preferred way to read and find fics?

I usually read (or put on my TBR list) whatever shows up on my timeline. From friends, mutuals, or reblogs. When I go straight to the Ao3 ship tag it’s usually to find a specific type of story to read before I sleep,, so I usually set the filters to completed, under 10k words, and no Explicit and go through whatever shows up.

What’s your guilty pleasure trope?

I no longer feel this feeling, but I have once been found feeling guilty for reading monsterfuckeries of omegaverse stuff. Omegaverse is not exactly my cup of tea, but sometimes it can be fun. Anyway, embrace the cringe.

What makes a fic an instant yes for you to read?

Well, timeloops as I’ve said, mutual pining, a good ol’ roadtrip fun. And happy endings. Sorry, but sad endings are a no-go to me.

Anonymous - Is there any older or lesser-known Steddie event from the past few years that you particularly love (if ongoing or recurring) or loved? Did you participate in any?

Hmm no, not that I can think of! Our fandom is very creative so we have amazing events all year round, thankfully! I also haven’t participated in any Steddie specific events because, funny enough, Steddie is the ship that I write the least for (even though it’s the one I read the most! lol)

@sidekick-hero - What makes a fanfic stand out for you?

I think characterization and lots and lots of emotion. With big ships like Steddie, it’s easy for us to fall into different characterizations and sometimes we write them almost as OCs - and that’s not a problem at all, I’m in the team “write whatever you love”, I wouldn’t even call it “mischaracterization”. But when a fic is able to stay within the character’s traits, it tastes better lmao Especially if the side characters are well written – it’s often hard for people who focus on a specific ship to be able to write well the side characters or even care about them and in a fandom like ST specially I think the other relationships are just as important as the main romantic one. I also really love when a fic makes me cry until I have a headache.

@worldswcollide - What advice would you give to someone who is interested in becoming a mod in the future?

Only do it if you know you have the time to dedicate to it. It’s very upsetting to rely on someone only for them to never dedicate themselves fully to a commitment they made on their own choice. You also have to like what you’re doing. If you’re on a project like ours, you have to like this reccing interaction. If you’re on a bigbang project, you have to like being that leader and organizing dates and putting people in contact with each other. And it goes on, but you have to enjoy what you’re doing or you’re gonna resent it and other people involved will know. We always do.

Anonymous - Do you participate in any other fannish activities, like making playlists, gif edits, fanart, podcasts, Pinterest boards, etc?

Not anything that I share, no. I sometimes do moodboards or playlists specifically for my own fics, but besides that, writing and modding, I don’t do any other type of art (bc I lack talent and/or will to learn lol).

@sidekick-hero - What motivates you to mod for steddieunderdogfics?

The idea of shedding a spotlight on fics that can pass by unnoticed, I think. In a big ship like Steddie, that’s easy to happen because we’re two years past Eddie’s first appearance and we still get dozens of fics posted per day!! Being more in touch with the community in this way is fun!

@worldswcollide -  Are there skills you’ve learned as a mod that have helped you in your everyday life?

I think every time you have to work in a group you learn something new, because it’s always new people and new ways to work with them. But I can’t think of anything specific, you know?

Anonymous - Have you had a particular favorite Challenge Monday or weekend theme so far (maybe because of the theme, the recs, or the engagement, or for some other reason)?

Well. Timeloops Theme Weekend for starters of course lmao. I also loved all the engagement and recs we’ve had for fics with podfics challenge, even though I don’t listen to podfics (or podcasts at all lmao) I was happy to see people showing our podfic people the due praise! Fics with colors in the title was also a challenge that we’ve had so many recs we’re still queueing them till this day basically lol. It’s always amazing when we receive a lot of recs and responses.

@sidekick-hero - What do you like best about fandom?

That’s a hard one. But I think the general sense of so many people of different ages and places in the world come together to show love to an art or artist. There’s something so simple and beautiful about that. Dedicating our free time to talk, praise, watch, listen, create fanart for something! It gives me the good chills.

@worldswcollide - If you absolutely HAD to choose—enemies to lovers or friends to lovers? (At least when it comes to Steddie)

Ohhhhmygod why would you do this to me!!!!!!! I’m gonna go with friends to lovers because that is also what I love the most in real life I think – the mutual pining, the obliviousness, the potential angst while they don’t confess, all the little moments they have together, the always presents “you are so dense and blind and stupid and dinguses” from Robin… Love that, yeah.

Anonymous - Has your experience as a fic rec mod changed your perception of fandom (positive or negative, though I do hope positively!), either as a whole or specifically for the Steddie fandom?

Oh, I definitely have a lot more respect for modders now lmao Not that I didn’t before, but it’s always different when you see it/do it yourself. It takes a lot of dedication and organization.

@sidekick-hero - What makes modding fun to you?

Honestly in this specific case, I absolutely love the routine process of formatting the recs lmao I genuinely have fun with it. But also, to see the interactions, how people talk about the fics they’re reccing on their asks, and also I love going through the tags on reblogs and seeing people praising the fics or seeing the author so happy with the recs. It all warms my heart.

@worldswcollide - What has surprised you the most since becoming a mod?

How this fandom is still so alive!!! It’s insane to think Eddie was first shown to us two years ago already and people are still in love with him and the idea of making him and Steve kiss. The creativeness of this fandom, the many fics we get with so many different tropes, AUs, all the different situations we keep putting those blorbos in. How, even within the same trope, different authors can always put their own little things onto their fics and even when they’re similar, no two fics are ever written the same way.

Anonymous - Do you find yourself engaging in reading and writing differently now (for any fandom) because of your work as a mod, or have you changed how you interact with others in fandom spaces?

I feel like I comment more, especially on fics that have less comments or interactions overall.

@sidekick-hero - What makes you fall in love with a fanfic?

I think I said in a previous answer, the characterization but also the way a fic is written. Like, if it’s through Eddie’s POV I love when authors use a kind of fast paced writing with no pauses and many thoughts happening at the same time while he has a hard time thinking about something specific or focusing on only one thing and and and– cause I feel like Eddie’s head is a mess like that. When it’s a fix-it, how the author manages to save everything, how they pass on the grieving and bad feelings of being part of an apocalypse. When they remember the characters are all just kids. When they give them a break. If it’s an AU, how they put our boys out of the apocalyptic situation, how they make Steve still be Steve when he’s just a baker or a teacher or a nurse and not a high school jock with a savior complex anymore. Those little big details.

Anonymous - Do you try to read through every rec or have you found yourself wanting to read more recs than you can keep up with?

Absolutely the second option lmao Also there are a few themes/tropes that are not my cup of tea, so they don’t go to my TBR list, but the list is still huge anyway lmao But I love learning about new works and writers even if I don’t have the time to read them!

Today, all of our recs are from @spicysix specifically! You can always see their recs on our Fic Fridays by checking our #mod lui rec tag.

[befuddled-calico-whump]

Dude you have no idea how envious I am of your ability to not only come up with a solid idea/plot for a series, but then manage multiple main characters and their dynamics and make it a cohesive, good story. What is your secret. How do you do it. I want to start a series with multiple main characters, but I don’t know where to start. All of your world building is just brilliant and how you manage to create multiple different series all in varying fictional settings, with unique plots and characters, tell me your secrets. Please. And also how you include whump in your work without always making that the focus- >>>. You’re an amazingly talented writer and artist like holy shit.

😭😭❤️❤️❤️❤️🥺❤️❤️❤️❤️🥺🥺🥺❤️❤️ THANK YOU SO MUCH❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

I don't know how qualified I am to give writing advice, but I feel like it's important to say I definitely didn't used to be good at ensemble casts

I've written a l o t of ensemble-type stories, mostly because I used to base most of my characters on friends, and wanted to include everyone. And honestly, that can be a good place to start. The styles, traits, hobbies, etc of people you know, or even yourself, can serve as inspiration for characters. And since you've seen these hobbies and habits in action, it can give another layer of life to it :)

Something else that helps, that I actually do a lot, is using the "Five Man Band" trope as a template. The FMB consists of five characters, each with their own archetype, usually working together towards a common goal.

You have your leader (self-explanatory, the one who calls the shots); lancer (a foil to the leader, the one who questions them the most); big guy (either the most physically powerful, or the one who solves problems with fists); smart guy (the one who falls back on intelligence, usually stereotyped as a nerd); and heart (emotional center of the team, usually the most sensitive and/or best at de-escalation).

While only using the listed/expected traits can lead to flat characters, it's a pretty good foundation to start with, that can help you determine how each character fits within the story, as well as how they'd react to each situation. When creating T$$ characters, I started with this and kept building.

Some other things that I think helps when trying to characterize a big cast:

- Have a "cheat sheet" for your main characters that lists things like what phrases they tend to use, how descriptive they are, whether they use big words, what they tend to notice when they're somewhere new, etc.

- If you swap POVs, have them reference hobbies, personal history, family, etc, even if it's somewhat subtle. For example, Character A might compare a new acquaintance to a wizard in their favorite fantasy novel, and Character B might use a lot of bird-themed descriptions and metaphors because their mother was an ornithologist

- Okay, this one is slightly more out there, but playing DnD or other TTRPGs helps a lot. Creating a character and pretending to be them, especially when there are other people around who might spring scenarios on you that you don't expect, is great practice for getting into characters' heads for your writing

- Putting new characters through "what would you do" type scenarios. Not even necessarily writing a whole scene out (though that can help you solidify a voice), but just mentally Putting the Guy in Situations and figuring out how they'd react.

Really hope this was helpful, and thank you again!!

[alfgifu]

Fic analysis 41. A conundrum, one might say a pickle

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51956002/chapters/131383150

Word count: 6,308

Chapters: 6

First posted: 1st December 2023

Last chapter up: 6th December 2023

Summary: 

In which Fitzroy resolves a problem, with Jullanar's help. Sort of.

How and why this came about

This fic is a sequel to the double drabble I wrote earlier in the year, An easy mistake to make, in which Jullanar and Fitzroy attempt bondage.

This was a birthday present for a friend and a chance to try something fun and gentle with multiple partners, and with all of those partners being excellent friends - if very young and still figuring themselves and everything else out.

I also wrote it as part of an ‘Advent of Fic’ challenge, where the goal was to write a small amount every day. I picked up and worked on various different projects (fanfic and original fic) in that process, but came back to this story for a good chunk of it.

What worked and what didn’t

I had originally thought I might write one or more double drabbles but I handed the mic to young Fitzroy for the first chapter and he blissed out over a thousand words or more, so then I gave up and let them all have a say.

I’m pleased with what I managed to capture of young!Jullanar’s mix of fondness, exasperation, love, and joy in experimenting with her friends, even when they’re idiots. It was also fun letting Fitzroy play with his magical abilities with total unselfconsciousness and a free imagination.

This was another fic I wrote on my commute and posted as I went. I kept the chapters short, switching povs each time, which it felt like it worked well for this pocket-sized adventure.

A lot of headcanon sprang into being as I wrote about Ser Ensilandor, the opera singer whose kindly introduction brought the concept of bondage to Fitzroy’s attention in the first place. I needed someone Damian could gather information from before deciding whether to join in, and I just liked the idea of Fitzroy’s serendipity leading him to a considerate older lover with a generous attitude. I’m sure Ensi ended up in a song.

What I learned from writing it

Another place where I’m tempted to put: nothing much! I probably shouldn’t have undertaken another new fic when I started this one, but I wanted something to write on my commute so I didn’t have to think about work. It helped, but then of course absorbed more time and energy than was a good idea.

The short chapters did I think help shake me out of thinking that I ought to always write long chapters (I tend to default out between 3.5k and 5.5k words per chapter, and try to keep fics consistent to within 1k words or so where possible - it just feels more balanced that way - but it isn’t necessary and it was good for me to work on something that didn’t fit that pattern. I mixed it up more in subsequent fics.

[chaotictarlos]

With love, your soulmate

ship: Tarlos | fandom: 911 Lone Star | author: chaotictarlos | read on ao3

Rating: Mature | Warnings: Alternative Universe, Tarlos AU, Brooklyn Love Stories AU, Alternate Timelines, long-distance relationship, fluff, soulmate au, pen pal au, mentions of police cruelty 

Authors Note: I have no excuse for how long this has taken me to update. I wanted this chapter to be good, is all, and I have a hard time saying goodbye to stories lasting this long. There is only one more chapter after this one. To those of you who have continued to read, followed the journey this fic has taken, and left even a single comment I want you to know that I appreciate you a lot. I don't write many chapter fics because I'm always afraid I won't be able to finish them, but this one is one that I know I will see to the end. The last chapter, as long as life is kind to me, will be posted next Sunday. I hope you enjoy the end. As always, thank you Noxy for being my beta for this. Comments are always nice to get.

It’s been a week since TK has gotten a letter from Carlos.

TK doesn’t freak out, not now that he knows the universe is shifting their timelines and bringing them closer together. Still, it’s odd that a week has gone by and Carlos hasn’t sent anything.

Since they figured out that time is shifting, Carlos made sure that only a few days pass between letters. How he’s able to manage it, TK isn’t sure but he doesn’t question it too much because he likes getting letters from Carlos.

Besides, the longer a letter takes to reach him, the closer he gets to being with Carlos.

TK doesn’t really feel like he’s getting closer to Carlos, the days move the same for him and nothing seems to change but he knows that he’s getting closer. It’s odd how it works and it always makes TK’s brain hurt if he thinks about it too much.

So he just lets it happen, not that he has much choice, and waits for the day that he gets to see Carlos in person and really see if this soulmate thing between them is really going to work out.

He doesn’t realize just how close he’s gotten until he’s watching the news that night and wondering why he hasn’t heard from him. It’s been a little bit longer than their typically few days in between letters and while TK is a little worried, he’s trying to shrug it off and remind himself that the more days in between getting letters, the closer he is to catching up with Carlos.

Or, that’s what he hopes it means.

TK is half-paying attention to the TV, playing on his phone and debating about whether or not he should send another letter to Carlos. He worries that another letter would be too annoying but reminds himself that Carlos has told him several times that he enjoys getting all of TK’s letters and that it never annoys him when TK sends multiple ones.

Still, TK has that anxiety.

He’s just convinced himself to write a letter when the news catches his attention. They’re talking about a cop from Texas that has been severally hurt while saving a teenager from being shot. TK goes still, eyes trained on the TV because he has this feeling he knows who it is.

He really hopes it’s not.

His heart drops in the next moment when he hears “Carlos Reyes” and sees the picture of him on the screen.

READ THE REST ON AO3

tags: @strangefurychaos @sapphire11 @first-kanaphan @noxsoulmate @rangergurlgleek1211 @detective-giggles @tarlos-spain @lonestardust @bubblesandroses8 @thebumblecee @mooshkat @importantbailiffpaperpony @cowlos-reyes @meditating-honey-badger @paperstorm @otter-love-asl @kiloskywalker

[takonei]

I know I didn't post on my characters' birthdays until now, but I figured it would be a good time to start introducing several new characters of mine for the story of Bastards of Ethuline.

(Who knows when I'll actually start writing anything about them.)

I do not want to properly introduce them yet, but I will give a small introduction anyway, as they aren't exactly members of Ethuline, nor do they live in the same country for that matter.

No, today will be a small introduction to Aguja Dorada, and the four half-beast siblings who founded this infamous mafia, all born on the same day — April 12th.

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Where beasts reign, half-beasts are left to fend for themselves against a world that hates them. Such is the rule of life. And where half-beasts struggle to survive, kindred spirits gather, outcasts find family in each other, and camps are created.

The tale of Aguja Dorada started the same way, 20 years ago, in a remote part of the country of Mexico. A family of four half-beasts decided to form a camp where their kind would be free from humanity’s hatred for them. Gathering resources, recruiting members — both other half-beasts and humans outcast from society — and fighting anyone who got in their way.

But that wish was very quickly twisted into wrath and retribution, as they were ready to do anything to achieve their goal of freedom, and that meant all acts of violence they deemed necessary. Of course, it meant becoming criminals in the world’s eyes, but such a thing was hardly a surprise, as turning their backs on humanity was the only way to survive. The family and the ragtags that went along with them ended up taking over a small town to settle in, which is now isolated from the rest of society. The group was known as a gang of beasts, and as many more half-beasts and outcast humans gathered, their reputation grew into one of a beast mafia known by the name of Aguja Dorada.

As the years passed, their iron grip strengthened over the town and the nearby lands where they hunted down trucks of food and other goods, and the situation was deemed completely out of the authorities’ control, who failed to hunt down the mafia countless times due to their sheer strength and capabilities. It was said that the four leaders were ruthless beasts who will always know if an intruder steps in their territory, and will defend it as such.

Nowadays, even though the half-beasts remain the leaders, some agents of the police have reported that far bigger beasts seem to have taken their place as the guardians of that territory, doing the dirty work the leaders couldn’t be bothered to do by themselves anymore. Curiously, while mangled corpses of policemen and military men have been reported near the mafia’s town base, no children were ever found, despite the multiple unresolved reports of kids who went missing nearby that were made over the years.

It is only recently that they managed to take down the strongest of those monstrous leaders, but after that, the rest of them became much more ruthless and hateful towards humanity, closing their borders to any and all humans, and defending their territory from trespassers viciously and brutally.

The real tale of Aguja Dorada has been lost with time, or perhaps it is because people refuse to acknowledge how it even came to be.

A tale of people who will always be remembered as heartless killers… though one might say that isn’t too far off from the truth.