#can you guess what fic i reread today-

[sweeneydino]

I have mastered the art of no thoughts head empty.

WIP.

[edgeray]

I just read your dragon arle x dragon hunter reader fic and I can't stop rereading it. Can I request either the dragon sibs & arlecchino's pov of the fic or a continuation of the fic (either of just reader's daily life now that they've been adopted by a dragon family or of arlecchino and (maybe) the dragon babies having human forms and surprising the reader with them (maybe both))?

Also could I be 🏹 anon? (I'm not the one who requested dragon arle x dragon hunter reader but damn do I wish I was)

Dragon Hunter Mother Part 2

(Arlecchino x Fem! Reader)

A/N -  Part 1 here I'M BACKKKKKKKKKK. Okay, wow, uh, hi, anons! Yes, you can be 🏹 anon, I added you to the list a while ago. To the anon that was asking for readers to fight off other dragon hunters, if you request again, give yourself a name/emoji like my other wonderful anons :). 🍎 anon, I'm not sure what you mean by real form, but I had the real form for Arlecchino as her human form.  If it wasn't clear, I thought I was just going to combine all three of these into one part, hopefully that's okay with you guys. I wrote this as best as I could. I didn't think the dragon au! would be so liked but guess the world building I pulled from my ass paid off. Reader will be fem just like the first part. Hopefully you guys like this sequel! And hope the world building for this is okay. I don't know why, but I decided to put an excessive amount of stupid world building that probably doesn't make sense… Also made the babies smaller (and I changed this in the first part too) so cuddling them can be better <33 sorry this took so long... hopefully the length makes up for it. 🫶 this makes the longest request I've done so far, and somehow I wrote all of this today... Content warnings / info - creature x reader, arlecchino is a dragon. fem reader, graphic violence, you get called a bitch (sorry), 3.9k words

Being kidnapped adopted by a family of dragons was not on your bucket list, but here you are. At the beginning, you considered running– after all, you had no idea if you were just going to be emergency dragon food or something, though logically you knew that dragons didn't eat humans. You were a hunter, and you were on a job, but you couldn't find it within yourself to pick up the sword again. Not only would that be foolish because there was no fathomable way for you to beat the Father dragon, but the trio of younglings had grown on you in such a short amount of time. It's only been a few weeks, and you feel like you've quickly adjusted to this weird, but cozy family nonetheless. 

The first night you met the dragons quickly became a fond memory to recall back to. What transpired during that night was this: after the babies had successfully calmed down their Father, their Father sat up, growling something to the hatchlings. The large dragon began striding in the direction of where it came from, and the babies left your side to follow. Confusion struck you and you approached the Father dragon.

“Hey, wait, where are you guys–” your own yelp interrupted you as the larger dragon's tail coiled around, picking you up like you were no more than a leaf. You squirmed in its grasp until you were dropped onto the Father’s head. Your eyes widened upon realizing what they were going to do, and you cling onto one of the spikes on the dragon’s head for dear life. The Father dragon flaps its wings a few times, striding backwards, and then begins running. The movements nearly threw you off of the dragon had you not white-knucle gripped onto it, and then you feel the rushing of wind all over you, threatening to blow you away. Your eyes burned from the oncoming torrent, and you shutted your eyes as the frigid night air whips around you, just praying to your archons that you remain alive after this. 

You didn’t know how long you squeezed your eyes shut, but by the time the icy gusts stopped pricking at your skin–only just caressing your skin like a gentle embrace–it’s when you finally opened your eyes. A black canvas dotted with various bright specks greeted your vision, and you gaped silently. You’ve always thought that the night was beautiful, but up close, you were sure of it; it’s entrancing and no short of magnificent. The beating organ inside of your chest thumped rhythmically, and you thought that if you reached out your hand, you would be able to feel the stars on your fingertips. 

You heard a croak beside you and you recalled that you were among dragons. You looked down. The dragon below you tilted their head towards you, glaring back at you over its wings, piercing crossed eyes scrutinizing you. Sheepishly smiling, you rub its head gently with your hand, and you could physically feel it shiver. You relaxed your hold, leaning forward and allowing your front to press against its scale to rest. Turning your head to the side, you watch miniature dragons fly, somehow keeping up with their father. You tentatively peeked down to see how high up you are, and your stomach churned uneasily. Distracting yourself from the terrifying height you’re at, how you can barely see the peaks of the coniferous trees, you try to think where they were taking you. Surely… you weren’t going to be stowed away in their den as emergency food… right? The babies would protect you… hopefully. 

The rest of the ride was smooth; somehow you had not fallen off. They took you to a cave at the base of the mountain in the center of the forest. Inside the cavern, the ground was matted with wool. This must have come from the sheeps that the Father dragon reportedly stole from the nearby villages. You assumed that this is a nest. The red one (should you just give them names instead of referring to them by their colors? You'll call the red one “Ruby” for now), nudged the back of your leg towards the nest, before its siblings leapt into it. Like cats, “Aqua” (short for Aquamarine) circled around a certain area before laying down, its sibling, “Amber,” following it and curling beside it. 

You gazed at ���Father” to check for any signs of protest, but it too steps towards the nest before laying down. Its massive body took up the majority of the nest, and it used its tail to gently push “Aqua” and “Amber” closer to it. Seemed like there was no protest from Father. Hesitantly, you approached the nest, feeling like you just stepped onto sacred grounds you didn't belong to. Tentatively, you laid on your side and Ruby went to snuggle against its other siblings. 

Soon, the babies’ snores filled the cavern. Sleep was hard to come by, especially since you were still in your armor and the matting wasn't very comfortable. The cold didn't help either. You ended up just gazing at the wilderness beyond the cave, observing the crescent moon. Eventually, your body became sore from the uncomfortable position, and you figured that slumber wouldn’t come to you soon anyways. Standing up, you made your way towards the exit, just to stretch your legs and take some fresh air. 

Leaning against the entrance, your thoughts ran rampant with wonderings. 

Should you run away? Did you even want to run away? What about your family? What about your job? Well… your family cared about your other siblings more anyways and it wasn't like you liked your job–you've always wanted a break from it. You doubt you could run away from them if you did; dragons had an impressive sense of smell and you wouldn't get very far in this terrain anyways. The babies specifically seemed especially fond of you, and their father tolerated you enough… maybe they had adopted you as their family? If so, then… What was wrong with having a serene life with dragons? 

Well, assuming, again, that they didn't want to eat you. But you didn't want to go back. That life of glory was for someone else. You'd rather live quietly and cozily, even if you were dirt poor. 

“Do you not intend on running away?” 

Your blood froze from the sudden voice, coming from behind you. You whipped around to see a human–no, something that looked like a human–advancing, and you took a step back. You notice the missing large dragon from the nest, only the hatchlings remain, unaware of their missing father. This… creature looked human (a rather pale, tall, and handsome female human) with two spiky, blackhorns peaking above her predominantly white strands, a draconic black and red tail loosely curled around her legs, and black forearms and clawed hands. But the moment you locked eyes with red x-eyes, you knew who she was. Or more like, what she was. 

She was, perhaps, the most breathtaking being you've ever seen, the moonlight making her seem elysian. The embodiment of perfection, for both human and beast, with her voice belonging to those of angels. 

But she was still a dragon, and that thought threw you back to reality. 

“You're human… but a dragon,” you stated matter-of-factly, your flusteredness apparent in your voice.

Her face remained as stoney as her dragon form. “You're correct, Miss Dragon Hunter.” 

This was new. Even if you had extensively researched dragons, you never knew of this. “How?”

“Is that something I should be telling a dragon hunter?” 

You bit your lip. “Is this how ancient dragons were able to stay hidden from us?” You wondered out loud.

“Precisely.” 

“If your human form is female-presenting… Does that mean you're a female dragon? But why? Female dragons take… well, a maternal role, but you serve the paternal role. I thought… that you were a male dragon.” 

“I am indeed a female dragon. However… I never sought out a mate, and so I could not produce my own children. The children,” she gestured at the sleeping hatchlings. “were runts when I found them. Like myself, they had no paternal figure, and the maternal figure naturally abandoned them after birth, so I stepped in.”

You nodded. “Why… did you not kill me?” 

“You fed them. And, with that, I believe they saw you as the maternal figure they lacked. They would be saddened if I killed you. But… considering that you’re a dragon hunter… it's quite a shame,” she remarked threateningly as she extended out her claws, nearing you. Your heart thundered in your ears, fear pumping through every vein. She was going to kill you? 

“Wait, wait. I'll give up. I won't go back. I swear,” you state, stepping back. 

“And why should I believe you?” 

Quickly, you removed the chainmail armor off of you, and with great effort, ripped out the patch stitched onto your shoulder pad. You chucked the armor into a forsaken direction, before you offered the patch to her. “This… this is a symbol of my occupation as a dragon hunter. Without it, I'm nobody. It’s my proof that I'm a dragon hunter. If I don't have it, I can't get any kill orders or receive any weapons or additional aid.”

The dragon raised her brow. A clawed hand took the patch from your hand, before a fire erupted from her palm, effortlessly burning it into ashes. “But how do I know you won't attempt to hurt my family?” She growled.

“I wouldn't. I've… never wanted to be a dragon hunter. I was born into a prestigious dragon hunter family, and I was expected to hunt myself. But… I never wanted to kill dragons.” You tilted your head down, breaking eye contact from her in favor of looking at your feet. 

The dragon stalked towards you until she was only a few inches away. Even in human form, she still towered over you. She pulled you with her tail, which winded around your midsection tightly until she was flushed against you. She gripped your chin in between her clawed fingers. 

“I'll be watching you myself. For now, my children enjoy your presence. But if a single one of them cries so much because of you, know that you will be killed, mercilessly and painfully. Do you understand that, human?”  

“Yes…” You paused when you realized you didn't have her name. You looked at her expectedly. 

“It's Arlecchino.” 

“Yes, Arlecchino. I understand.” Her name sounded right on your tongue.

“Good. Come now, the children are rather quick on noticing my absence from the nest.” Arlecchino expressed, turning back.

“I think I'll stay out here for a while. It's hard for me to fall asleep… it's a bit cold for humans,” you sheepishly admitted. “I'll come back when I'm more tired, I promise.” 

Arlecchino turned around to observe you, noticing your shivering form and the goosebumps on your skin. “I believe I have a solution. Come,” she said, offering her hand towards you. 

You took her hand, and she laid you to the nest again. She laid down on her side first, before urging you to follow her. The nest was comically large compared to the two of you and the baby dragons now that she was in her human form. As you set yourself down, back facing her, clawed hands found their way around your waist before hauling you towards her, her chest pressed against your spine. You hear the flap of a wing, and then the wing is casted over the two of you, acting as a makeshift blanket. You gasped as her hot breath tickled your earlobe, the tips of your ears burning. “Warm enough for you now, human?”

You still had trouble sleeping that night, but for a different reason. 

— 

You learned of the hatchlings' names the day after. Translated to human language from the draconic tongue, “Ruby” was actually Lyney, and his siblings Lynette and Freminet, “Aqua” and “Amber” respectively. Their personalities shone through pretty quickly the longer you stayed with them. 

Lyney, undoubtedly, was the most energetic and clingy, in an endearing way. Always the first one up and stirring up trouble, alongside his younger brother, Freminet–even though Freminet was the shy, considerate one. Lynette was quiet but always present, comparable to a cat when Lyney acted the most like a puppy, and Freminet, a deer. Lyney had once nearly burned down the nest out of sheer eagerness when you surprised them by arriving at the cave with fish when they had just woken up. It didn't take you long to realize that cod was Lyney's favorite, even when you didn't understand dragon language. 

Arlecchino warmed up to you eventually. The first night helped a lot, and so did the children. Standoffish at first, once she realized you had the best intentions in mind for her children she was begrudgingly softer with you. The ‘nestling’ (as the children resorted to calling it after Freminet saw it, having woken up in the middle of the night when Lyney's tail accidentally whacked him) became a nightly occurrence, and you couldn't say that you were complaining. It became evident to yourself that you were attracted to Arlecchino. She was wordlessly sweet, and attentive to you, but especially the children. A powerful, ancient dragon practically bowing down to dragons five times smaller than her was amusing to witness. 

You were able to dissuade Arlecchino's attempts from visiting the nearby villages now that you were able to get the food for the hatchlings. Arlecchino had stopped visiting villages once she was able to obtain a human form, which allowed her to more efficiently metabolize food unlike beforehand. However, upon taking care of the Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet, she needed much more than what the forest could provide, hence the frequent visits. 

Arlecchino did eventually tell you how her human form came to be. Dragons are, first and foremost, creatures created with magic, and so also hold magic. There are two different maturities that dragons reach in their lifetime. The physical maturity, which is when their wings are fully developed and they reach the age when they no longer have to be sheltered. Then, there is the magical maturity, when they learn to properly utilize the magic they're born with once enough magic has been culminated internally over the years. Dragons reach magical maturity after their second molt, and shapeshifting is the most common application; though most dragons like Arlecchino use human forms in order to assimilate into human society. It explains why ancient dragons are rarely ever seen. Draconic magic is unlike anything you've ever seen, incomparable to how humans use it–you couldn't even wrap your head around it. Either way, once Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet reach of age, they too will have human forms. You wondered what they would look like. 

Your life is simple, albeit a bit boring, but nonetheless, you couldn't love it more. You have children that keep you on your toes, and you have… well, Arlecchino, your personal heater at night. It's the cozy life you've always wanted, though you'd like for the nest to be more comfortable, and considerably warmer. 

It's why you’re currently at a nearby town, buying more wool with the money that you had when you were still a dragon hunter. You had traveled with Arlecchino to your hometown to retrieve the money you secretly stashed away, which could have bought a large house in the center of the town. At least, being a dragon hunter wasn't entirely useless. 

You buy your wool and head towards the edge of the forest that bordered the town. The children were waiting for you there, wanting to see what new treats you were getting them. Last time was grilled steak. This time it's dried fruits. It'd be the first time that they tried dried fruits, you hope that they'll like them. As you treach back to where you told them to stay, you notice footprints in the dirt– footprints that weren't yours, and there were multiple of them. All of them seemed to belong to men. Terror struck you in an instant. Why were there people here? People rarely come here. No, it should be fine, it’s just foragers, right? 

Anxiety grips at you as you continue, but it's quickly dispelled once you find the dragons, all safe and sound. You exhale and giggle as Lyney leaps into your arms, while Lynette brushes against your leg and Freminet perches on top of your head. 

“Freminet, you're heavy–” you stop when something snaps behind you. Immediately, you set down Lyney and Freminet before turning around, and your worst fears come to fruition as your sight lands on a group of men coming from the bushes, familiar swords and armor gleaming in the sunlight. Your stomach drops upon the realization. Dragon hunters. And there's about ten of them. Ten of them versus one of you. 

You step in front of the dragons immediately, your hand trailing to the small knife in your pocket. 

“Hey, the old man was right. Following that bitch would lead us to the dragons,” one of them said. “How much is for each head?”

“Well, babies are rare. So a few million Mora per head. Can be ten times more if we get them alive.”

“Get your Father,” you whisper to them, as you push the dragons. They croak worriedly at you, their teeth tugging on your boot for you to come with them. 

“Go!” You yelled a little more assertively. Lynette and Freminet fly off to the direction of the cave, while Lyney remains. You were about to shoo off Lyney too, but then you hear the sound of a bow being drawn. 

It's like you suddenly become possessed, your body moving on automatically as you charge at the archer, short knife in hand. You knock his hand away, making their arrow shoot astray instead of at one of the dragons still flying, before you slit his throat. You narrowly dodge one of the swordsmen's strike, his long-blade an inch away from your chest. Another one from behind you swings, and this time it cuts your side, only shallowly so. You're thankful that your dragon hunter instincts and reflexives are still imprinted on your body, as that's the only thing keeping you alive and allowing you to dodge them. Though they all seem like amateur dragon hunters, compared to you who was the best out of your year, there were still many more of them than you

Another archer draws his bow, but you're still preoccupied with dodging. This foraging knife can barely do shit, and you're hardly able to fend off against the ones surrounding you. The group of dragon hunters split off, half of them chasing towards where Lynette and Freminet went while the other half is currently fighting you.  

No, no, you can't reach him in time, what if he hits Lyney or Freminet–

Fire abruptly emerges, scalding the archer's face making him cry out. The fallen archer's scream successfully distracts the men around you, and you weasel your way out, grabbing Lyney who’s in the process of breathing out fire again and running. You drop your backpack to allow you to run better, but not before making sure you chuck it at one of the hunters. 

“Good job, Lyney,” you praise the hatchling in your arms, stroking his head. 

You had to make sure the group in front didn't find the cave. Lynette and Freminet aren't fast flyers, their wings aren't nearly developed yet. You fear that more archers are with the group in front. Thanks to the lack of weight on you, you're able to evade the ones behind quickly, and catch up to the half of the hunters that had run off earlier. 

The sound of their own footsteps mask yours, and you’re able to stab the swordsman that's lacking behind in the neck, before stealing his sword. His scream attracts the attention from the other hunters and they spin around to face you. Good, they won't be focused on the other dragons now. 

“Lyney, go, please. Your siblings need their big brother,” you whispered, giving the hatchling one more stroke on the head before throwing him up in the air. Lyney, this time, obeys you, flying away but not before giving you one more glance back. It’s just you and five hunters in front of you, another three coming soon. The archers are the most pressing concern, as you rush at them. However, two swordsmen block you from them. 

“No!” You scream as the archers take aim, their arrows aimed at Lyney. You throw your knife, past the blade-wielding hunters and into the back of the head of one of the archers. However, that action cost you your arm getting cut, a long slash down the side of your forearm. You hiss, backing away, but the three of them quickly surround you. There’s still a single archer left. 

“Fuck, what are you even protecting those stupid reptiles anyways? Just tell us where they live and we'll let you live!” 

You only grit your teeth and ready your sword. The only way you can get to the last archer is if you brute force your way, but you can't. You hear footsteps approaching from behind, and the remaining three are already here. 

“We need her alive for now, so she can tell us where it is,” you hear one of them say.

The idea starts settling inside of you–that you're going to die, if it continues like this. You’re not going to tell them where the cave is obviously, even with whatever sick torture they have in plan for you. But were you willing to die now? After you've just achieved the life you had always wanted? You just wanted to live a peaceful life… was this your karma for being a dragon hunter? You swallow thickly, trying to imagine not seeing the hatchlings again or even Arlecchino. In the short time you’ve spent with them, you really have seen them as your own, your family. Ironic that you end up dying for dragons when you yourself were a dragon hunter, huh?

Continuing fighting would be pointless. You’re dead either way, why struggle more? Still… the children are safe. It'd be okay. It'd be okay. They've survived before you, and they'll continue to survive after. Dying would be okay. 

You close your eyes, trying to blink the tears away. It'll be okay, it'll be–

A roar booms through the forest, and then a loud boom, the ground shaking violently underneath you, causing you to tumble onto the floor harshly. In front of you, on top of the crushed bodies of the former dragon hunters, the dragon form of Arlecchino appears. You quickly run to her side, grasping onto one of her legs. Soon, dark red flames escape out of her throat, enveloping the last of the hunters and then, all ten hunters are dead, just like that. 

Once the last hunter falls, Arlecchino immediately turns into her human form, holding you in her arms. You collapse into her arms, the exhaustion from the running and fighting weighing down on you as the adrenaline quickly disappears. 

“The… children?” you're able to pant out as you look up at her. 

“They're safe.” Her eyes hold gratitude towards you. “I thought I lost you.”

“I'm okay, Arlecchino, I promise. Just a few cuts,” you reassure her with a smile, nuzzling into her neck. She sighs and kisses the top of your head. 

“I’m not letting you go anywhere without me anymore.”

“Fine…” 

[dragonmuse]

How to be a Dirtbag Fic Writer

I got to do some talking about writing today and I couldn’t stop thinking about it so here are my full thoughts on the matter of being a dirtbag fic writer.

Being the disorganized thoughts of someone two and a half decades into the beautiful mess that is writing fanfic (and a few non-fanfic things too).

What is a dirtbag fic writer? 

 I am talking about someone who is not cleaning up anything. We show up filthy, fresh out of rooting around in the garden of our imaginations. We probably smell a little from work. We will hand you our hard grown fruits, but we have not washed them and we carried them in the bottom upturned parts of our t-shirts. The fruit is a little bruised. It’s not cut up or put in a bowl yet. But we got it in the house! It’s here. Someone can eat it.  

Why dirtbag it? Because the fruit gets in the house. If you’re hemming and hawing, if the idea you want to do seems to be big or you want it perfect and shiny. If you’re imagining a ten thousand step process, so you’re not taking the first step? Dirtbag it. 

How do I dirtbag? 

That’s the best part. You just write. Sit down. One word after the other. No outline, no plan, no destination. No thought of editing. Just word vomit. Every word is a good word. It’a word that wasn’t there before. Grammar sucks? Who cares. Can’t think of the perfect word? Fuck it, put in the simplest version of what you mean. 

Write the idea that you love. The one thing you want to say. Has it been done 3000000 times? WHO CARES human history is long, every idea has been done, probably more than twice. YOU have never written it before. It’s your grubby potato that you clawed out of the ground and guess what someone can still make it into delicious french fries. 

Now here’s the critical part. Write as much as you can squeeze out of your brain. One word in front of the other. 

And then I challenge you this: at most, read it over once and then put it into the world. Just as it is. AND THIS IS IMPORTANT: DO IT WITHOUT APOLOGY OR CAVEAT.  I challenge you, beautiful dirtbag to not pre-emptively apologize. Do not make your work lesser. THAT IS YOUR POTATO! It has eyes and roots and dirt clinging to it because that is what happens.  We are dirtbagging it today. Hell really confused people at do #dirtbagwriter on it.  

Dirtbag writes id, base, lizard brain. Dig in the fertile garden of your imagination. What is the story you tell yourself before you fall asleep? What’s your anxiety this week? Your fantasy? What is going well? What do you wish things looked like? Who is the feral imaginary character you’ve been crafting to take your frustrations and joys out on? 

But, VEE, I wish to have an editor and an outline, use a cool software like scrivener instead of retching up onto a google doc and making it look NICE and PRETTY!

COOL! DO THAT THEN! IF YOU’RE ACTUALLY DOING IT! You should have a process! That’s cool and healthy and necessary for sustainable writing. But if you’re not writing because all of that seems too much? THEN DON’T. 

Did you know fic is free? That we do this from love? From sheer desire? For the love of the game? If you have a process, and the words are flowing, amazing, I love that for you, you don’t need this essay.  If you don’t, let us continue. 

What does dirtbag writing look like? 

It’s messy. It’s a little raw and tatty around the edges sometimes. It’s weird.  It’s someone else’s first draft. Maybe it winds up being your first draft, Idek, that’s your business. 

It’s jokes that make YOU laugh. It’s drama that would make YOU cry if you read it. You are your first commenter. You are your first audience (and possibly continuing pleasure! If you don’t go back and reread your own work sometimes, you might be missing out on one of your favorite authors cause you wrote it for you! Wait until you’re not so close to it. Years sometimes. Then hey, maybe some of this is pretty dang good actually.) 

It has mistakes. 

Dirtbags make mistakes, but dirtbags have published pieces. They have things other people can read out there. 

What if I don’t get good feedback? 

Look, the most likely outcome of any new, untried fic writer (and even established writers trying something new-ish)  is that you get no feedback. That’s real. Silence. It’s eerie, it’s terrible, it sucks. I don’t want to pretend it doesn’t. But nothing is not negative. It’s a big fic-y ocean out there and we are all wee itty-bitty-sometimes-with-titty fishes.  

You should still do it all over again. And again. And again. You get better at writing by writing. You just do. Nothing else replaces it. If your well is dry? Fill it with new things. Go do something new, read a new kind of book, watch a new film,  (libraries have so much good shit, you don’t even have to spend money for so many things if you have a library card), just go for a walk in a new direction. Stimulate yourself. Got a cup of something hot and eavesdrop on conversations. Refill yourself with newness. 

And hey, speaking of, do you leave comments? Because you get what you give. You can build relationships with people by commenting and that builds community and community means places to get feedback in the end. Comments are gold. They are all we are paid in. Tip your writers with ‘extra kudos’ or ‘this made me laugh’. And hey, when you go back for a re-read so you can tell them your favorite part? Ask yourself how they made that favorite part? What do you like about it?  Tone? Metaphor? The structure? Reading teaches us how to write too! 

BUT, okay. Sometimes. Sometimes there is actual bad feedback and people suck. 

You know the best part about being a dirtbag? Unrepentant block, delete, goodbye. You don’t own anyone with a shitty opinion any of your precious time on this earth. You did it for free, you gave them your dirty, but still delicious fruit and they went ‘ew, this is a dirty strawberry, how could you not make a clean tomato?”  Because you didn’t plant fucking tomatoes, did you? Don’t fight, don’t engage. Block. Delete. Goodbye. 

If someone in person, looked you in the eye when you brought them a plate of food to share at a party and they said “Why didn’t you bring me MY favorite? This isn’t cooked well at all.” You would probably write up a Reddit AiTA question about it just to hear five thousand people say they were an asshole.   Fic is no different 

And hey, when you dirtbag it? You know you did. It’s not your most cleaned up perfect version. So who cares what they think? You might make it more shiny and polished next time! You might NOT. 

Ok, but what if I don’t finish it? 

Fuck it, post it anyway. 

What if it’s bad? 

Fuck it, post it anyway. 

What if it doesn’t make sense? 

That’s ART, baby. Fuck it, post it anyway. 

What if what I want to write doesn’t work with current fandom norms? 

Then someone out there probably needs it!  And what the hell is this? The western canon? FUCK IT POST IT ANYWAY* 

*Basic human decency is not a ‘fandom norm’. Don’t be racist, sexist, ableist, fat shaming, classist or shitty about anyone's identity on main, okay? Dirtbag writers are KIND first and foremost. Someone saying you are stepping into shit about their identity is not the same as unsolicited crappy feedback about pairings. In the immortal words of Kurt Vonnegut: "God damn it, you've got to be kind.”

You’re being very flippant about something that’s scary. 

I know. I know I am. I know it can be scary. But no risk, no reward and hell, you aren’t using your goddamn legal name on the internet are you? (please for the love of fuck do not be using your legal name to write fic) You’ve got on a mask. You’re a superhero. With dirt on your cape. 

That niche thing that you think no one cares about? Guaranteed you will find someone else in the world who wants it. Maybe they won’t find it right away. Maybe they will be too shy to comment or even hit a button. But your dirty potato will stick with them. They will make french fries in their head.

You have an audience. But they can’t find you if you have nothing out there. 

Go forth. Make. 

You have some errors in this essay. 

PROBABLY CAUSE I DIRTBAGGED IT.  But I picked this strawberry for you out of my brain, so I hope you run it under some cold water and find the good bits and have a nice snack. Or throw it away. Or use it to plant more strawberries (I know that’s not how strawberries work, metaphors break when stretched).  

#dirtbagwriter 

Go forth and MAKE

[slut4thebroken]

Exposure Therapy pt. 7

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Jonathan Crane × reader

Summary | Your usual daily session is interrupted and chaos follows not long after.

Warnings | 18+, sexual content, smut, praise, degradation, face fucking, deep throating, exhibitionism??, grinding, fear gas, angst, kind of? He’s just not good at emotions, but you are very persistent lmao.

Words | 3.3k

Notes | I hope y'all remember what happens in Batman begins lmao. (Okay I’m worried I made the end too complicated because I had to reread some of the things he said multiple times and really think about it to understand what he was trying to say… lmk what y’all think of it pls)

Ao3 link | <3

Fic Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Part 6

You started a nice routine. So far he’s only been gone one day, but other than that you would always come to his office sometime around lunch, depending on if he was able to let himself have a break from his work or not. Usually after you ate was when he would give you a few things to do, but sometimes he got too impatient and fucked you instead. He learned very quickly though that your come drunk mind is not able to complete anything he gives you, so he does his best to wait and save that until after you’ve done a decent amount of work. He still hasn’t had you help with the experiments directly yet though. Which you thought was weird given how eager he seemed for your help. Okay maybe not eager…

Two weeks passed by quickly and you found yourself looking forward to each day, which you haven’t felt since you got here. You tried not to think about that too much though. 

He brought pasta today, in to-go containers, and you ate it eagerly. He was mostly used to your eating habits by now, understanding that you’re only getting one decent tasting meal a day, but he still often reprimanded you for eating too fast. 

“How much time is left of your lunch break?” You asked as you finished your food and he glanced at the clock on the wall. 

“Half an hour.” 

“Good.” You stood up, discarding the empty container on his desk, and walked over to him. When you dropped to your knees, he raised his brows and eyed you curiously. “Move back.” You said, glancing down to the chair. Without saying a word, he rolled the chair back and you slipped under the desk, using the arms of the chair to pull him back in. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” He asked, but it was amused, not a warning. You placed a hand over his already hardening cock, making his breath hitch. 

“If you really don’t want me to, I guess I can stop.” You said, knowing he wouldn’t dare do anything of the sort. When he didn’t respond, you worked on freeing his length, then took it in your hand, stroking it to full hardness. He let out a shaky breath and both hands came down to your hair, making you pause. 

“Keep eating, doctor.” You teased and his cock twitched. He huffed, but removed one hand, the other threading through your hair. You continued stroking him, then leaned down and enveloped the tip in your mouth. His grip on your hair tightened, but he gave no other indication that he was affected by your ministrations. Which only made you want to try harder. You swallowed him deeper in your mouth, hand stroking the base, then started moving up and down at a slow pace. He let you maintain control for a while, his hand tight on your hair but not pushing you down just yet. 

Taking a deep breath through your nose, you placed both hands on his thighs and forced yourself down as far as you could without gagging. He let out a choked moan and his hand suddenly forced you down the rest of the way, making your eyes widened as they filled with tears. He let out a low moan as he held you there, even as you dug your nails into his covered thighs. When he finally let you pull off, you coughed lightly, but quickly continued. 

“So eager. Do you like sucking me off?” You moaned around his length in agreement, never slowing the bobbing of your head. “I can tell. I bet you’re already soaked.” He chuckled and your face heated up. You let out a startled moan when he suddenly pushed his leg out between your thighs, pressing it against your core. You took the stimulation greedily, rutting against his leg as you hallowed out your mouth and pressed your tongue against the underside of his length. 

You weren’t sure if he was still eating, but his free hand was still above the desk and he stopped talking for a moment so you assumed he was. When you went all the way down and froze again, he pushed you down the rest of the way until his cock passed your throat barrier, making you choke. 

“That’s it. You just need a little help getting there, don’t you?” He said through a moan and your hips bucked faster at the passable excuse for praise. “We'll have to work on that though. I shouldn’t have to do all the work every time, should I?” You sputtered around his cock, tears falling down your cheeks, staining the fabric of his pants. When you tried to push yourself back up, his grip on your hair turned painful and he forced you down impossibly deeper. 

“Shh, just take it.” He uttered softly at your panicked choking. Finally stopping the pressure, you quickly pulled away, coughing and almost hyperventilating, making him roll back a little to see your face. “You can take a little more right? I’m so close.” Even though his tone sounded a little mocking, you were pretty sure he was genuinely asking. So you cleared your throat and nodded, letting out a raspy, “yeah.”

“Good girl.” He said, giving you a proud smile, and your hips stuttered forward at the praise, making his smile turn into a small smirk. He rolled back in and let you pick up where you left off, bobbing your head up and down his length, now very encouraged to help him reach his orgasm. He seemed to grow impatient though and he moved your head faster, fucking your mouth, almost breaching your throat barrier with each thrust. He fucked you like that a few times before someone knocked on the door. Your eyes widened and he forced you all the way down, holding you there. 

“Dr. Crane?” Someone called out from the other side. 

“No sounds.” He warned, tightening his grip to hold you flush to his pelvis. “Come in.” You were so incredibly glad that the back of his desk was covered when you heard the door open. 

“Miss Dawes is back. She’s asking about Falcone.” The man said. Your eyes burned and so did your lungs the longer you went without oxygen. When you let out a choked whimper and instinctively tried to pull off, he released your hair to instead place a hand on the back of your head, holding you against him with an iron grip. 

“I am on my lunch break.” 

“She’s insisting.” The man above you let out a heavy sigh. 

“Fine. Tell her I’ll be there in a few minutes.” The door closed and he released you, letting you pull off as you coughed and sputtered, a trail of saliva connecting the head of his cock to your lips. He waited impatiently for you to recover before using both hands to grab your head and force you back down, starting a brutal pace of pounding your mouth. Each thrust made your choke and gag as he forced his cock into your throat every time. When he cursed under his breath and his hips started bucking with each move of your head, you knew he was nearing his orgasm. 

He pulled you all the way down with a low moan and you felt hot come hitting the back of your throat, not even letting you swallow it because of how deep he was. You let out a muffled whimper as he continued holding you there, only letting you pull away once his cock stopped twitching. 

As you recovered, he used the napkins he brought for lunch to wipe his cock before tucking himself back in his pants and moving the chair back. 

“Come here.” He said softly, holding a hand out for you to take. You crawled out from under his desk and used his hand to get to your feet, leaning against the furniture behind you. When he stood and used a clean napkin to wipe your face, your cheeks heated up. “I’m sorry I cannot stay with you this time.” He said, focusing on the task. 

“It’s okay.” You croaked, clearing your throat when you heard how hoarse your voice was. 

“Before I forget,” He discarded the napkin then reached into the plastic bag from the restaurant, pulling out another to-go container— this one much smaller than the other one— and handing it to you, “I thought you might enjoy this.” You took it from him and could practically feel your mouth salivating at the sight of the brownie in the box. It was nothing fancy, just a plain brownie, but you haven’t had dessert in weeks and you started to miss chocolate. 

“Oh this looks amazing. Thank you.” You smiled, looking up at him, receiving a nod and a tight lipped smile in response.  

“I will escort you back.” He said, taking a step away from you to let you move away from the desk as he collected his things. “Grab your bag.” He said, when you started walking without it. 

“Right… sorry.” You said sheepishly, feeling a blush creep up on your cheeks. He made no other comment about your mistake as he led you to the door while you put the container in your bag. “Who’s Miss Dawes?” You asked as you walked down the now familiar hallways. 

“No one of your concern.” He said coldly, but he seemed to notice his tone. “Someone who’s been getting too close to what I’m doing here.” He explained, tone still void of emotion, but not as harsh. 

“I see.” You said, then added, “You can’t do anything about it?” He turned to you with an almost amused expression on his face because of what you were implying.  

“No. She works for the DA's office.” 

“Oh.” You arrived at your cell and he opened the door for you. 

“I will see you soon. I am not exactly sure when that will be though.” He said, easing your nerves, probably because of what he did the last time he returned you to your cell. 

“Okay.” You walked inside, then turned and gave him a small smile, receiving a curt nod in response before he closed the door. 

You weren’t sure how much time had passed, but you finished the brownie, got through six chapters of a book and covered two pages of the sketch book in drawings before you started growing a little tired. Not knowing what time it was, you decided to just lay down and try to sleep, but a loud noise followed by an alarm had you bolting up in your bed. You got up to try and see anything through the small window on the door, but the hallway was empty. Deciding not to feed into your anxiety, you turned back around, but froze at the sound of your door being unlocked. Was whoever was responsible for the alarms coming for you now? 

You all but sighed in relief when Dr. Crane was on the other side of the door, but your brows furrowed in confusion when you saw the open straight jacket he was wearing, as well as the scarecrow mask in his hand. 

“Hurry, we don’t have much time.” He said, holding his free hand out for you to take. You grabbed it and he started briskly walking down the halls to his office, practically pulling you along behind him. 

“What’s going on? Why are you wearing that?” 

“I’ll explain later, please just trust me right now.” Another loud sound came from outside and he stiffened, then sped up significantly. When you walked through the doors he went straight to his desk and grabbed a gas mask, then tossed it to you as he put on his scarecrow mask. You stared at him in confusion as he walked toward you. 

“Put it on.” His tone was stern but it wasn’t out of anger it was out of fear. You obeyed and as soon as the mask was on, he was grabbing you and pulling you into the hallway toward the front door. 

“Where are we going?” You asked, voice muffled by the mask. He opened the door and you were met with the sight of pure chaos. People were attacking each other in the street, police horses were running wild, their riders nowhere to be found. He led you over to a horse and lifted himself onto it, then tried to help you on before you stopped him. You could barely get a word out before he was interrupting you. 

“Just get on.” You nervously eyed the wriggling horse before sighing and lifting yourself onto it with his help. You sat behind him, not sure what to do, but when the horse bucked up and started running, you let out a startled scream and quickly wrapped your arms around his torso. 

“Where are we going?” You had to yell over the screaming people you were passing and honestly for a moment you weren’t sure he even heard you. 

“Somewhere safer than this.” You passed inmates, police officers, and civilians alike, all of them yelling and either running or attacking. When you saw something flying in your direction, you thought you had truly lost it, but he turned down a street to avoid it before you could get a good look at it. 

As he continued down the panic filled streets, there were less and less people and you saw water up ahead. He stopped in front of a warehouse near the docks and jumped off before helping you down. 

“What the hell was that thing?” You asked as he led you inside. 

“Gotham’s self-appointed protector, a deluded soul in a costume.” He said, voice dripping with loathing and contempt. The darkness of the room caught your attention, shifting your focus away from the questions you initially wanted to ask about his response. 

“What is this place?” 

“When the Bat started sniffing around, I moved some of my belongings here.” He closed and locked the door, then walked over to a wall to turn on the dim lights. “It should be safe to take off the mask now. If it’s not, I prepared an antidote, just to be safe.” You tentatively removed the gas mask after he removed his own. 

“That was all your toxin?” You asked, shocked. 

“Yes.” 

“Why?” 

“It was not my plan.” He defended. You sighed and crossed your arms over your chest, gaze drifting down to the straight jacket.

“Why are you wearing that?” 

“I have the Bat to thank for this.” He said bitterly. You stared at him, trying to psych yourself up to ask what you really wanted to know. 

“Why did you come back for me? Why didn’t you just escape?” When he turned around and started walking to a desk in the center of the room, you thought he was just going to ignore you. 

“I’ve worked too hard on you. It’d be a pity to let that go to waste over something as simple as not stopping by your room.” He said simply, making your brows furrow. You followed after him and when he turned back to face you, he read your expression easily. “First you complain about being there and now you complain about me taking you somewhere else.” Despite his annoyance, there was a small smile on his lips. 

“I’m not complaining, I'm just confused.” 

“You said you’d help me. Now more than ever I need assistance. Have the few minutes of freedom changed your mind already?” He almost seemed… hurt. 

“That’s not-“ You let out a heavy sigh in frustration. “Why can’t you be honest with me?” 

“I am,”

“You’re not. You really expect me to believe that you took me just because you need help? When you could’ve gotten any lowlife to do it instead?” 

“Yes.” He said simply. You clenched your jaw and stared at him, then let out a dry chuckle. 

“Fine. What do you need help with?” You waited in agonizing silence as he studied you. 

“Why are you so bothered by this?” That made you scoff. 

“Are you serious?” You asked and when he didn’t respond, you continued. “I’ve given you everything— everything that wasn’t taken from me— and in return, all you do is treat me like one of your experiments.” You watched his jaw tick as it clenched, but you couldn’t stop, not now that you’ve started. “You want my help, you want me to eat with you, you give me a fucking sketch pad, but you come back for me just because it would be a pity to let your work go to waste?” You could feel tears welling in your eyes as you said it out loud. 

“Why can’t you give me something— anything, to prove that I’m not just an experiment to you.” You said quietly. He swallowed thickly and looked away from you. Just say it, you begged silently. Please just say it.

“What do you want me to say? You want me to tell you that I like being around you? That I couldn’t harm you again, no matter how hard I tried? That the thought of leaving you in that place, without me there to protect you, is enough to make me risk my life?” When he finished, his expression was something you’ve never seen on him before. 

“If it’s true.” You said quietly, holding your breath. 

“Even if it is, you expect too much of me. I am not able to give you what you truly want.” 

“I just want you.” You took a step toward him, but froze when he took one back. 

“No. You want someone who can provide you with more than just books or art supplies and simple kindness. You want someone who can make you feel like more than an experiment and I am not able to give that to you.” Even though you understood that you had nothing to do with his attachment issues, your chest still ached knowing that you’re not enough for him to want to try. 

“I know that your ways of expressing affection are unconventional, but it’s enough for me to just know. You don’t have to say it.” 

“I may not be a good person, but I am not selfish enough to keep you from finding what you truly desire under the basis of false affection. No matter how much I wish to keep you by my side.”  

“What I desire is to be by your side!” You said, exacerbated. “I don’t need emotional confessions or labels. I can feel it in the way you touch me, the way you speak to me, the things you do for me.” He was silent for a long time and you forced yourself to maintain eye contact, even as your eyes were filling with tears once again. 

“That is not how you really feel and as the one who’s emotions haven’t been manipulated, it would be wrong of me to continue taking advantage of you in your current state,”

“You made me like this!” You yelled, feeling a tear escape your waterline. When you continued, you tried to lower your voice to a normal level. “You made me feel like this… Please don’t pretend like all of this is just in my head.” When he remained silent, you whimpered out one last, “Please.” 

“Eventually you’ll realize that I’m right- that all of this was just a coping mechanism.” You let out an irritated sigh, getting over this back and forth very quickly. 

“Tell me.” You said, significantly harsher than before. 

“What?”

“Tell me to my face that I’m nothing more than an experiment. Tell me and I’ll drop it.” He clenched his jaw and let out a heavy breath through his nose, not able to maintain eye contact. The longer he remained silent, the harder it was to hold in the tears. “Please.” You whispered, making him look at you again. 

“Even if you aren’t, the confession would be inadmissible,” 

“It wouldn’t!” You yelled and he let out another heavy sigh. 

“I will only disappoint you, but to satiate your masochistic tendencies…” He paused with a sigh and you held your breath. “You are more than an experiment.” 

Part 8

[hiemaldesirae]

thinking of a witch/fae radiostatic au after rereading some of my guilty pleasure fandom fics hhhhhnneuhg

basically the gist of it is, unseelie king alastor gets kidnapped by witch vox's village and now vox needs to figure out how to keep alastor from dying because his death means the rest of the court coming for blood while also trying to make sure the fae king doesnt try and fucking eat him or something. oh also they knew each other before.

Vox's mother always used to say, there's comfort in routine.

Perhaps that's why Vox finds himself redoing the same three-card spread over and over, despite always managing to get the same results. He chews on his fingernails as he frowns harder, reshuffling once more.

"Whatcha doing?" Angel Dust, the only other witch in the village, pops up behind him, startling Vox, who sighs and relaxes once he realizes who's behind him. "I thought you were busy helping the healers, man. Are you just doing tarot readings while we're working ourselves ta' the bone?"

Vox frowns, pressing his lips together.

He doesn't have anything against Angel, really, it's just difficult talking to people who aren't Vel or Val. And maybe it's more difficult talking to Angel because of his relationship with Val, but that isn't something he's willing to admit in front of his best friend's boyfriend. "Well, I got basically put on house arrest today because apparently, the fae they brought back was so strong they didn't trust me not to get too interested in them and throw the whole plan off."

"Couldn't they've least stationed ya with the healers? You can serve that house arrest after we make sure no one's dead," Angel groans. "I mean, didya see the state everyone came back in?"

He had. Vox had watched with white knuckles as they'd brought Velvette and Valentino's unconscious forms across to the healers lodge and tents, doing and redoing protection spells around their home and the village wards. He had wanted to help as soon as he'd seen them, but the village chief had ordered for him specifically to stay home.

So he'd busied himself with tarot cards. But it seemed even that wasn't working out for him, because...

"Oh, shit. This is... a pretty fuckin' bad spread, ain't it?"

"You tell me," Vox grouses. He shuffles the cards again and tries another time, only for those same three cards to appear again as if mocking him. Three of Swords. The Tower. And of course, Death.

Now, of the three, death was probably the most positive card of the spread. All it meant was change- not necessarily as dark as its name. But the tower and three of swords... well. Those only spelt out foreboding fates.

"What didya even ask?"

"It's about the fae they brought in." Vox taps his hand against the counter before starting to reorganize his cards. No sense in leaving them out now, after all: their message had been clear and simple. This was a mistake. You're all fucked. "Apparently, they're on par with royalty. Which as you can probably guess, isn't very well known for their kind tempers. So I was doing readings to try and see what might happen from keeping them here, and..."

Angel grimaces. "So... you're saying that we're fucked, basically?"

"You can do your own reading if you want," Vox says cryptically as he stands up, stretching his limbs. "Anyway, I'm going to go and strengthen the protection shield on the village wards. Not much else to do while I'm stuck here, anyway."

"Right... well, guess I'll see ya round then."

"Mm, see you."

When Angel leaves, Vox breathes a sigh of relief. He unclenches his hand to regard the skeleton key he'd stolen from the chief hours earlier on complete autopilot, hardly even realizing he'd taken the damn thing til he'd gotten back home and started performing frantic readings.

It was the key to the village cellar, a place located on the edge of town. Vox, Val and Vel lived closest to it- which worked out well, considering of the three of them, two were part of the village's elite fae hunting brigade and the last was one of the villages only two witches, and the more experienced one at that. He supposed, given the circumstances, that the fae who'd beaten his friends to a pulp was probably down there. And, well... Vox was nothing if deathly curious.

So that night, on a half moon, Vox quietly exits the house, being sure not to accidentally trip an alarm on the way. He makes his way to the outdoors cellar and unlocks the door, making his way downstairs into a damp and cramped room. His eyes are immediately drawn to the large iron cage hanging in the dead centre of the room, sucking in a breath as he takes a small step back. The cage is impressive, but what's inside of it...

A mass of shadows writhe and twist around a restrained figure, dispersing slightly around where the fae's eyes must be. Vox flinches back when a ghostly grey-black hand reaches out for him, its dark tipped claws so sharp he's sure the fae could have sliced him to ribbons had they not been restrained by their shackles and prison.

It serves its purpose: Vox is immediately and incredibly intimidated. Having said that, he came here for a reason, and he's not so much of a fucking coward that he'd simply flee with his tail between his legs at the first sight of an adverse reaction from the captured faerie.

"Hey, uh... I know you probably don't believe me- and you probably shouldn't, honestly, but- er, I'm here to help you. As much as I can, anyway." Vox raises his hands up in the air as he moves slowly toward the cage, keenly aware of the fae's fixed gaze on him all the while.

He reaches out and slowly, cautiously, places a small, dead rabbit on the precipice of the cage's platform. It was one he'd caught with a trap that afternoon, under the excuse of storing away fresh meat for Velvette and Valentino when they returned- but, well, there were other animals he'd caught, too. They wouldn't miss one tiny rabbit.

The shadow cloaked faerie regards the mound of fresh meat for only a second before jerking forwards and swallowing it whole.

Vox watches with rapt attention, mesmerized by the faeries brutality. He almost doesn't notice when the fae turns to address him, voice raw and scratchy and deeper than the ocean. "What did you do that for?"

"Cause..." Vox worries at his lip.

He doesn't really want to lie to the fae- he's not dumb, alright, that'd be a practical death wish, even if he was lying with good intent- but he's also not so sure how it will react to being told he only did it out of curiosity. Because he wanted to see just what it was that his reading deemed so dangerous to their little town. "I guess... I wanted to see what was so strong that they took down half the village guard."

The fae startles at this. The shadows surrounding their cage shrinks back a little, finally unveiling enough of their appearance for Vox to put a face to a... well, for Vox to get a good look at them.

Dark reddish brown hair with black streaks at the edges sharpen into pointed deer ears, with two short buck antlers growing from the fae's head. They have deep crimson eyes, tinged with flecks of bright green- it pairs well with their skin, a deep, rich brown that reminds Vox of rich autumn soil at the harvest. He's... pretty sure this fae is a man, but appearances can be deceiving, and he's not quite keen on being cursed for assuming blindly.

"Hm. Well, you weren't among the host that came to attack me, were you now?" The faerie's eyes narrow as Vox stutters out a faint no, babbling out excuses to lead them away from the conclusion of him being a witch (and thus always placed under pseudo-house arrest when time comes for a fae hunt). "Then, you don't realize what a mistake your village has made, do you, dear?"

Vox pauses. "What do you mean, mistake?"

The room's temperature drops almost the moment the question falls from his lips, and Vox pulls his cloak closer to himself as he distances himself from the cage, willing his arms to stop trembling as he watches. The shadows around the fae pull close again and coalesce into a cape of sorts, rising above the faerie as they entwine themselves around the fae's head, almost like- almost like-

A crown.

"Oh, shit."

The Unseelie Fae King gives Vox a tight lipped smile. "So, do you see now?"

Well. At least that answered what the tarot cards were trying to tell him.

[luzlopesarts]

Production stages of the Fan Comic of "The Wish Kingdom" !!!

(written by @annymation)

And as promised, here is the "schedule" I said I was putting together for the Comic fic production process.

In the end, this isn't really a "timeline", it's more like a list of what I'll do to build the comic. I want to make all the processes very clear and described to give you an idea of how it will be done and a small idea of how long it will take.

Remembering that I am a human being, not an AI to do things quickly, I have another life beyond networks and this project.

Besides the fact that none of us are being paid to do this comic (although I really wanted to, I'm not going to lie), all of this is being done on the basis of love, affection, positivity and adoration for the initial concepts dispensed by Disney, their classic films that really made that company grow and the main messages conveyed by Walt Disney while he was still alive: "If you can dream something, you can make it happen!" and "It's fun to do the impossible!"

So please be patient and kind to me and the entire team! I already love, adore and thank everyone willing to follow our project.

<3

Well… Let's get started!

1- Rereading and Separating the text:

Starting today (02/26/2024) I will be re-reading Anny's fanfic, separating all of her text into scenes, highlighting the following points:

Atmosphere

Characters (designs made by @uva124)

Speeches and facial expressions - the message

Thus defining "who says what, how and in which place?"

Since I will be doing the setting art myself, as the story progresses, I would really appreciate a little help. I'm guessing if you're reading this you've probably already read The Kingdom of Wishes and consequently imagined the scenarios! If you find any images online that remind you of the locations of the scenes in your mind, you can send them to me as a reference! I'm always open to references for drawings!

2- Make the "Thumbnails"

I don't know what term foreigners use to define the thumbnails that make up the first drafts of comics, but here in Brazil, we call them "Doll", in reference to the fact that the sketches are a "test doll" for the comic strip .

Anyway, I digress! It is at this stage that I define the composition of the scenes through sketches. This is where I define what appears or not in the scene, what the scene will be focused on, how I will guide the reader's eye by the meaning of reading the scene, where the lines, the characters, their movements and others will be located… It's a planning phase on how to portray the scenes; the most complex I would say.

3- Review

Here I take a break for two days or three days at most, to relax and forget about the project for a bit. I come back with new energy and review everything that was done, ask for opinions and suggestions from the team, in short, I give a great evaluation and improvement in everything!

4 - Finalization and Publication

In this last step, I transform the sketches into final artwork using graphite pencils, colored pencils and pens that I have available.

When they are all finished, I will publish the comics here and on all my social networks!

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

Finally....

I would like to say that yes, I will be posting spoilers for all these stages, watch them at your own risk!

Remembering that English is not my native language, so I really hope everything was understandable! But if you have any questions, you can send questions to me or any member of the team!

And if you want to know a little more about my arts, you can check out my Instagram!

Kisses full of light and stars!

Let's work!!

[the-amazing-simp]

Midnight Rain | J.M.

📝 Title: Midnight Rain

📚 Requested: Yes/No

✍ Summary: The story of how you fell in love with Jess Mariano and how second chances exist

🎶: Midnight Rain by Taylor Swift

💌: my first Jess Mariano fic, hope you guys like it!

You never knew what love truly felt like until Jess Mariano walked into your life. 

It was just another typical day, walking into Luke’s diner for your morning dose of caffeine with Rory while her mother went to get a newspaper. 

Then there he was, wearing a metallica t-shirt with red long sleeves, bickering with Luke about his choice of outfit for the day.

“Hello?” Rory waved a hand in front of your face with a teasing smile, “Do you want to sit down or are you just going to stand there?” 

Clearing your throat, you gave the mystery boy one more glance before you nodded, “Yeah, of course we’re sitting down.”

While Rory placed the order, you pulled out your current read and started where you had left off. 

“Emily Dickinson?” A deep voice said as coffee was poured into your cup, “A remarkable poet and woman, or so I’ve heard.” 

Looking up, you see the mysterious boy now standing in front of you, “She is. You’ve read her work?” 

The boy shrugged, “A little here and there.” 

You nodded to the book in your hands, “You can borrow this one if you want, I’m just rereading it anyway.” 

“Really?” He asked, a mischievous smile growing on his lips, “You wouldn’t mind?” 

“Would I be offering if I did?” You countered.

“Touche.” He chuckled as you handed him the book, “Thanks.”

“You’re Luke’s nephew right?” 

“I’d rather be known as Jess. And from what I can deduct, you’re Rory’s friend?” 

“I’d rather be known as Y/N.”

–

“Done.” Jess walked in pace with you as you were on your way to the bookstore. 

“Done with what?” You asked, making him hand you the Emily Dickinson collection of poems you loaned him three days ago.

“The book.” He answered as you took it from him.

“What’s the verdict then?” 

“It was okay, also I did write some thoughts in the margins.” 

Flipping open the book, you were met with his neat handwriting filling up all the empty spaces, “Wow. I thought you said you haven’t read it much?” 

Jess gave a smile, “What is much anyway?” 

“Point taken.” You smiled as he pushed open the door for you.

–

“You seem to be alone today.” Jess noted as he sat in the chair in front of you, “Not here with the rest of your coffee trio?” 

You laughed, closing your book to give him your full attention, “Sadly no. Rory is off tolerating Paris since the latter is freaking out over something and Lorelai is attending to something at the inn.” 

“Pity.” Jess’ signature mischievous smirk in place, “But on the bright side, I guess I’ll have you all to myself.” 

“Oh really?” You giggled. 

Before Jess could give his witty remark, Luke could be heard from behind the counter, “Jess, I do not pay you to flirt with the customers!” 

“First of all, you don’t pay me at all.” Jess stood up, coffee pot in hand, “Second, I only flirt with this particular customer.” 

And before he left your table, he leaned forward and pecked you on the cheek.

You couldn’t control the smile that adorned your lips as the heat crawled its way up to your cheeks.

Oh, but Jess Mariano was far from done, “I’ll pick you up at 8 tomorrow night for our first date?” He calls out as he makes his way to the counter. 

Looking over your shoulder, it kept all of your willpower just to stop yourself from laughing at Luke’s rather shocked expression, “Sounds like a perfect plan.” 

–

“Fine, laugh all you want but no one else can change my mind on the fact that Romeo and Juliet is a complete scam.” Jess said, stabbing his chocolate ice cream with the small spoon the dessert came with.

You were quiet for a moment as you took a bite off your mint chocolate ice cream, making it seem like you were thinking about what he said, “I know right! Rory refuses to hear a word I say on the matter but how stupid can Romeo be to see that Juliet was breathing?”

“It was a sleeping potion, it would be impossible for her to not breathe.” Jess interjected. 

“Yeah, and people have the audacity to call it the greatest love story of all time when the title clearly belongs to ‘The Notebook’.” You said, taking another spoonful of your ice cream.

 “Mhm.” He nodded in agreement, “Alie and Noah beat out Romeo and Juliet anyday.” 

“You know, you’re adorable whenever you talk about books.” Your boyfriend added. 

You swear that your face is 13 shades of red right now, and not because of the summer heat, “So do you.” 

“I’m serious.” 

“I am too.” 

He rolls his eyes with a chuckle, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, “Everything you do is adorable. From the way you would practically scrutinize every single bad decision in a tv show to the way you like to smell newly-bought books before putting it away.”

“Oh, so now we’re pointing out my awful quirks?” You teased.

“Lorelai’s sarcasm is now starting to rub off of you.” Jess mused, “Can I kiss you?” 

“You better. ‘Cause I’ll be so mad if you don’t.” 

–

It was surprising how you didn’t break the door as you ran into the diner.

“Luke, where’s Jess?” You said, hoping that the envelope in your hand wouldn’t be too crumpled with how tight you were holding on to it. 

“In the apar-” He didn’t need to finish his statement as you bounded up the stairs faster than anyone has ever done.

“Looks like somebody’s excited.” Lorelai noted with a smile to which Luke just shrugged.

Immediately jumping into his arms once the door opened, it was a surprise how Jess was still able to keep his balance.

“Woah, someone might’ve got a sugar rush today.” Your boyfriend teased as you started to calm down a little.

“My book is getting published!” Finally brandishing the news you wanted to relay, you held out the envelope to him.

“See? I told you, they’d love you!” Jess grinned, taking the letter out and reading it over.

“I mean it’s nothing permanent yet.” You said, smile still intact, “The book still has to go through a round of edits and all, there’s no contract yet but they’re interested!” 

In his delight, Jess picked you up and spun you around before pecking a kiss to your lips, “C’mon let’s go out.” 

“What for?” You asked, still dizzy yet you weren’t sure if it was from being spun around or being kissed.

“Duh, to celebrate? What else would we go out for?” He then grabbed his coat before pulling you out of the apartment.

–

“Jess, you know it’s not that easy.” You sighed, tired of having to explain this over and over again.

“You’re the one who’s making it complicated.” He argued.

“Jess, the publication firm specifically told me that if I moved out of Stars Hollow then the deal is over. My book won’t get published.” You said, exasperated, “Hence, I cannot move to Philadelphia with you.” 

Jess was getting tired of this discussion too, “Then pull it out! I’m going to be writing my book too, then we can look for a publishing firm together.” 

“And put my dream on hold?” You gave a humorless chuckle, “Let me think about it, oh wait, the answer is practically obvious - I won’t.”

“So you’re going to choose your dreams over me?” 

“Yes Jess, why on earth would you expect me not to?” 

“I don’t know because you love me!”

You scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief, “Just because I love you doesn’t mean I’ll compromise my dreams, my future for you.” 

“I would’ve done that for you.” Jess countered. 

“Then I’m sorry if I can’t say the same.” You could feel your throat tightening with every passing moment, you knew how this would end - and you hated it.

“If that’s the case, then I’m going to Philadelphia with or without you.” He said, packing up the last of his clothes and stuff.

“And I’m not stopping you.” The tears were now freely dripping down your face, like raindrops on a windowsill.

“Fine.” Jess said, not being able to look at you since he hated seeing you cry then without so much as another word he left your apartment, slamming the door on his way out.

–

It’s been years since that fateful day. It took you a while to get over it but as Lorelai said, “Trains barely even wait for you at the station, so why would life?” 

Part of you didn’t regret staying in Stars Hollow, you already had 3 published books to date and was now working on your 4th one. But a part of you would always ask the “what-if?” 

The other night, you saw Jess on the news - proudly promoting the book he had just published. You had forgiven him, after all the time had passed, but you can’t help and wonder about the life you gave away.

“Oh hey, can you go get some coffee to-go? Mom needs me to save her from another one of Ms. Patty’s set-ups.” Rory said, looking up from her pager.

You nodded, “Yeah sure.”

Personally, you could never tire of the ambience that meets you when you walk into Luke’s diner, it’s hardly changed over the years.

“Hello Y/N, let me guess, a cup of coffee?” Luke greeted you with a smile, thankfully still fond of you despite what had happened with his nephew. 

“Three to go actually.” You said, returning the smile. 

“I see some things never really change.” A familiar voice, one you had thought that you would never hear again, reached your ears. 

There he was, standing by the door in all of his glory, as if he never left. 

“Jess.” You said in awe, not noticing that Luke had started tending to other customers - giving you and your old flame some privacy.

“Y/N.” He may have been older, but the same boyish, mischievous smile was there.

Even if you had imagined this day before, every word you had rehearsed was reduced to rubble. You tried to think of something to say, but everything you could ever possibly know in the English language is now gone.

“I see you’re now one of Stars Hollow’s pride and joy.” Jess teased, slowly walking towards you.

“Pride and joy may be a little of an overstatement.” You said, “I see life’s been treating you well too. Loved how you foreshadowed the plot twist.” 

Jess sat down on the bar stool nearest to you, “All of your books were simply impeccable.”

Then with a smile, he pulled a book out of his bag, “Though, I must say, your second one is my favorite.” 

Your heart sank as you braced yourself for the teasing/mocking you get in a few short minutes.

Jess had started to read the synopsis, “He was a montage. A love potion that works in slow motion. He could hardly be described as sunshine but he wanted it comfortable and stayed the same. She was midnight rain, she wanted that pain, would rather chase that fame and all of her changed. Their love was like a postcard of paradise, picture perfect - a guaranteed happy ending. But is anything in life ever guaranteed?”

You sighed, “Jess-” 

“It’s about us isn’t it?” He said, not a trace of any childish humor in his tone.

“If you mean that our relationship served as an inspiration, then yes.” You said. 

“Hm.” Jess contemplated, tracing the small picture of you on the jacket cover, “But they had a happy ending.” 

You shrugged, “A part of me dreamed of getting that ending.” 

“And who says that it's too late for us to have that ending?” He asked, pushing himself off the stool and now standing right in front of you.

You tried not to get your hopes up, “Do you think we could make it work? Pick up where we left it off?”

He reached forward to push the hair out of your eyes, “I mean it won’t always be sunshine and rainbows. We’ll have fights and all but I think that I want to be able to have those fights with you and resolve them with you. Remember when we had that discussion about Romeo and Juliet?”

Furrowing your brows, you didn’t have a clue where this was going, “Yeah?” 

“Alie and Noah may be able to beat out Romeo and Juliet anyday, but I never thought that their story was the greatest one.” Jess said.

“Then who’s?” Your heart was beating faster with every passing second as you had a hint on what the answer was.

“Ours.” 

“But, what about your life in Philadelphia? What about your publishing firm?”

“I can work remotely, then I’ll just go down to Philadelphia if I have to fix something and all. I lost you once, I can’t bear to lose you again.” 

Persistent. One of the many things that made you fall in love with Luke’s nephew in the first place.

Without missing a beat, you grabbed him by the collar of his leather jacket and pressed your lips to his.

“I’m guessing that’s a yes then?” 

“Obviously.” 

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[caleris-library]

It Starts With H

You can also read also on AO3!

Summary: Reth was on his way to deliver a “cake” in Bahari Bay when he stumbles upon a bittersweet love letter to “T.” Who else could it be other than his dear sister, Tish? Well, whoever this person is better prove themselves if they want to get back with her. There’s no other way to determine it except by investigating all the villagers whose names starts with “H.”

Author's Note: This may possibly be out of character for most, if not all, of the characters that show up in this fic. I do hope that you will still enjoy this!

What a coincidence their names both start with T.

Can’t blame Reth for accidentally messing it up. There were only a few people he knows their names that start with T and one of them is his sister. A love letter? Who would it be for if it weren’t to his sister? If he wasn’t the most wanted person, then that title would’ve gone to Tish. There was nothing to not love about her. She was the village’s sweetheart.

Just as there were only a few people he knows their names that start with T, there were only a few people he knows their names that start with an H. But, who the person writing the letter was more obvious than anything. It was an open secret.

It was Hodari.

.

.

.

Jel’s face falls flat at that conclusion. “You couldn’t be anything more than wrong,” he says, voice dragging out the last word.

It was a warm, busy evening, despite the season getting colder as if shifts from summer to fall. There were preparations being made with the Maji Market, furniture being made for the Watcher, the humans’ upcoming Acceptance Ceremony... A lot to do. Reth was busy enough already having to make food for literally all three events.

Yet, here he is.

The Tailor was small and quiet shop, fitting for the lanky melancholic man that works the place. Reth always makes his way after his shift to Jel’s store. All he has is three hours to spend time with Tish, his little sister, and Jel, his little sister’s best friend. However, it was only the two of them today.

Tish was working overtime at her shop for the Watcher. The materials needed were hard to come by. From what Reth remembered about Tish’s rambling, they required palium ore.

And, Hodari is a miner.

“How could I be wrong?” Reth asks flabbergasted. “If it’s not Hodari, who could it be?”

Because, without a doubt, it was certainly meant towards Tish. Who wouldn’t want Tish? Well, next to the furniture was the library. And, guess who stands in front of the library.

Reth gently smacks his palm on the table. “Hekla!” But that doesn’t sound right.

Jel rolls his eyes and chuckles.

“Then, who could it be?!”

At the same time, both Reth and Jel lean over the table to look at the letter. Reth found it while making a delivery in Bahari Bay. The words were sickeningly sweet — Reth is sure that Sweet Tooth would eat this up if he were to show them. However, he can’t reach out for their help right now as they were busy.

Reth huffs a little and slides the paper towards Jel while he rests his head on his palm. Jel takes the paper in between two of his fingers and rereads it again, over and over, through his tinted lens (how can he read through that?).

“How about you ask Tish?” Jel suggests. He leans on the table with his other hand and swings his other hand with the paper in it. Everything about him just exudes elegance.  “She’ll tell us whenever she’s ready. It is her letter after all.”

Jel was right. Whatever happened between Tish and her secret partner — ex-secret partner — is between them. There was probably, obviously, a reason she kept it a secret. Even though the thought of his little sister keeping a secret from him hurts a little, Reth knows that he has more secrets that he has never told her before either.

How something like ours was never meant to last. Did Tish say that to them? Was it something about her health? Was she getting worse? Is that why they both broke up? Is that why Tish was keeping it a secret?

Clearly, whoever wrote this letter to her cares about her. And, whoever they are, Tish must’ve really trusted them to tell them about their health first before her own brother. Reth would do anything for her — even if it meant going in debt to the cartel. Still, Reth wants to see himself if the person Tish broken up with was really a good person. If they would do anything for her, they gotta prove themselves they could do more than him.

It was nearing 8 pm. Reth stands up from his seat, some of the paper falls off the table, and stretches his arms. “Well, looks like my time is running short,” he says. “I think I’m gonna stop by Tish’s before I head back to the Tavern. I have to make sure she gets her dinner.”

“You’re gonna ask her?” Jel asks lightheartedly, offering back the letter.

Reth takes the letter off his hands and slides it in his apron pocket. “Nope,” he answers, popping the ‘p.’ “Like you said, this is Tish’s business.”

Jel raises a brow at that statement. “And, what does that mean?”

“Nothing you should worry about.” Reth winks. “Don’t tell Tish about this. If she stops by later, I was helping you come up with ideas.” He waves as he departed from the store.

Jel sighs and pushes his glasses up his nose. His eyes wanders to the floor and spot the fallen sheets of paper. As he picks them up, he realizes they were sketches for his new clothing line and he gasps. “Oh, right. I need to talk to Hassian about the fur.”

Jel quickly gathers all the paper up and places them on his desk neatly. There was a small closed box where Reth was sitting at, taped with words “Fragile! Zeki’s Special Cake Delivery! Keep Refrigerated.”

“Oh dear, did he forget to take this?”

Well, he’ll just put it in his fridge until Reth comes back. It would be awhile until Reth is available and he doesn’t want the cake to spoil.

Very rarely does Reth and Tish have a full day together.

Tish doesn’t know how Reth did it, but she assumes that he got a human (Sweet Tooth, he calls them) to do his work. Nothing wrong with that. It’s fine to slack off for one day or two. Despite what the other villagers may think of Reth, she knows that Reth works hard. She could never blame him for getting some help. Tish is grateful that he has a friend, maybe more, he can rely on.

But, it was a very strange day.

It was early when the two of them set off from their house. The morning was chilly. After all, it was very important to get some clean fresh air. Kilima Village had that rural essence that a city can’t achieve. It was a quiet village yet it was noisy in it’s own way. Everyone pretty much knows everyone. Mostly.

They made their way straight to the Mirror Pond Ruins. The plan was to have a picnic first thing in the morning. Leafhopper Hills was usually a nice place to have one — lots of land and grass, a good amount of trees, and a nice view of the beach. Reth suggested that they should try a new scenery.

That wasn’t the strange part though.

It was when he invited Jina and Hekla over to their picnic.

“Are there any dishes I can make with mushrooms?” Reth asks casually. He’s sitting criss cross applesauce while holding a bowl of his world’s famous lettuce soup. “I’m trying to expand my menu and Sweet Tooth complains about having too much mushrooms.”

Jina lights up and leans forward. “I know one that fits right in your expertise!” she answers excitedly, but she coughs a bit as she regains her composure. “Have you heard of cream of mushroom soup? It’s a simple recipe.”

Tish doesn’t mind the company. In fact, she considers herself and Jina to be good friends. She often goes to Jina to ask her about the ruins for some craft ideas and it’s fun learning new stuff. Old human civilization had some creative choices. Thinking about it, maybe she has some sort of magnet that pulls Water-type personalities towards her.

“Oh, right, Hekla, didn’t we discover what brightshrooms could do?” Jina asks, facing towards her Galdur partner.

Hekla’s head bobs and tilts before answering, “Brightshrooms get their glow from absorbing flow. Because of this, brightshrooms have some healing properties.”

In the corner of Tish’s eye, Reth glances at Tish then back at Hekla. His face was slightly scrunched. He had one hand rubbing his chin while another on his bowl of soup. In front of him was a small notepad. Tish remembers him writing on it earlier when Jina shared the recipe. She leans in a bit. There were some doodles that looked like Hekla and... was that Hodari?

Reth places the bowl of soup down, on top of the notepad. Gosh darn it. “So, basically, you’re saying is that we can make an immortality potion out of that,” he jokes and Tish giggles.

“The flow intake is too little to cause any change when consumed,” Hekla finishes. “Most of the flow is used to make it glow, so when it is cooked, the flow is transferred somewhere else. Flow cannot be destroyed.” Her head sinks back into her body. “The only thing it adds is an umami flavor, as humans describe it.”

“It would be really cool if someone figures out how to make medicine out of that.” Tish claps her hands together and smiles brightly. “Maybe Kenyatta knows more about that! When I visited her at the City Hall, she suggested that I put some heat root when I got injured while I was crafting.”

Jina nods her head. “Brightshrooms have a lot of alchemical purposes and...”

And, the entire time, it was about mushrooms. Tish had a lot of fun conversing with Jina and Hekla. It wasn’t every day she talked with them when they were always on some sort of adventure together. Just whenever she leaves her store and sees them at the library does she give them a small chat. Maybe suggest a few books on architecture or such. It was a nice experience.

It was just strange. Reth’s a social guy, but he wouldn’t try to get interruptions during their hangout. Even though he invited Jina and Hekla, he was overall quiet with the exceptions of a few jokes. It was mainly her and Jina talking with Hekla making some more commentary.

After Jina and Hekla left to head to the temple, Reth was writing something in his notepad before packing all the stuff up. He sighs contently, brushing his hands off after putting all the bowls into a backpack. “That was fun. Maybe Jina and Hekla will come around more often at the Tavern once I put that recipe in the menu. What’s your opinion on them?”

“Well... Jina’s a good friend and I would like to know more about Hekla.”

Reth nods his head quicky and stares at Tish expectantly.

Tish tilts her head. “We’re not gonna stay around here a bit more?” she asks. Typically, they would stay in one spot and catch up with each other since it’s not every day the see each other despite being family, until it was the end of the day or until they were busy. Regardless, she helped carefully place the bigger pots in another bag.

“Nope,” Reth answers as he takes the picnic blanket. “I had another idea planned. We’re gonna go to Bahari Bay.”

“Bahari Bay?” Tish squints her eyes as she picks up the basket. “Why?”

“Heard from a certain Sweet Tooth you were eyeing some Palium Ore to make the furniture for the Watcher. So, I thought, maybe we should go mining together!”

“Mining.” Tish slowly nods her head and squints her eyes. “Reth, uhm,” how does one say this kindly, “we don’t have pickaxes.”

Reth clicks his tongue and points a finger gun at her. “I already asked some human friends to lend me some of their old pickaxes. Had to mend it a little since it was getting worn out. It’s a great chance to go sightseeing and get a little bit more exercise.” He mimics a quick run. “Don’t worry. I’ll do all the work.”

For some reason, Tish was convinced.

Najuma’s breakfast was interrupted when her dad unexpectedly came back with the village’s cook and carpenter following after him. Her mouth was opened, the spoon in her hand halfway into her mouth. She couldn’t even take her first bite. Her dad stops at the table where she was eating her fried eggs and diced tomatoes and says, “These folks have some worn down picks. I’m gonna head back to the workshop and grab them some better ones. You don’t mind talking to them, right?”

Yes, she does very mind it, but she doesn’t say that out loud. Najuma didn’t say anything as her dad already left off to head to their workshop. Well, there he goes.

Fortunately, Tish was good at making small talk. Sure, it just the regular ol’ “the weather is lovely here” type of small talk, but Najuma admires Tish for being so friendly and welcoming. She’s, like, one of the few people who always greet them and check out what they have whenever they are in town.

It wasn’t long until Hodari comes back with some two picks and his own. “Now, considering that I have never seen you two ever hold a pick, do you folks know where to mine?” he asks.

Najuma sighs in relief that it wasn’t very long that she had to keep a conversation up.

“Nope,” Reth answers, popping the ‘p.’ “Just kinda figured, as long as we hit a rock, it would give us something, right? That’s what Sweet Tooth’s tells me at least.”

In other words, they have no idea what they are doing at all.

Najuma recognizes the opportunity and stands up from her seat and exclaims, “I can show them around Bahari Bay!” This is her chance to check out the mines.

“No can do,” Hodari immediately denies.

But, those two don’t even know what they’re doing! she wanted to yell, but that would be embarrassing to argue with her dad in front of someone. She certainly doesn’t want to drag them into it either.

Tish raises a hand and suggests, “Maybe, she can come with us?”

Reth nods his head. “You’ll be with us too, aren’t you?” he asks, glancing at the three picks. “I figured you would show us a spot with that question.”

Hodari glances at the two siblings before he sighs. He didn’t plan on taking the two into any dangerous mining spots, so it would also be safe for Najuma to also come along. Plus, as long as he is with them, he can keep an eye out on Najuma.

He looks at Najuma. Her eyes were sparkling with hope. She already knew the answer after the first sigh.

“As long as you stay outside the area,” he grumbles, crossing his arms. “I don’t want you to be getting into any accidents.”

.

.

.

They were around Hideaway Bluffs, it’s not a cave but it’s a safe place to mine. There were always ores around the cliffs so it’s no wonder why her dad picked this place out. Najuma kicks her prosthetic leg as she watches Hodari teach Tish how to hold a pickaxe. Her dad swings the pickaxe at the ore, then tells Tish to copy after him. Reth was a bit in the back and watched the two closely.

What’s strange though was him suspiciously inching closer each time they hit the ore.

“Do you need something?” Najuma asks hesitantly.

Reth pulled out a notebook with a pen in his hand and asked in a hushed tone, “Say, Najuma, do you know anything about Hodari and Tish?”

“Do I know anything about my dad... and Tish?” Najuma asked back flabbergasted. She squints her eyes. A question worded like that could be misinterpreted in such a way. “Are you trying to imply something here? And,” her eyes dart to the notebook, “and, what’s with the notebook?”

“It’s a book of notes,” Reth answers plainly.

He wasn’t wrong there.

Najuma fidgets around with her hands. What else more can she say? There’s still that first question that needs to be answered but the only answer she has was that she’s only seen her dad and Tish only have small talk. She respects Tish. The young woman has always made an effort to welcome everyone.

“Well, she would make a great... business partner?” Najuma answers hesitantly. “Though, I think she wouldn’t be as interested since it’s more... mechanical stuff. She has great ideas though.” Her hands try to grasp at something. Being around the mines for the first time in a long while, she feels empty without a pick in her hands. “May I ask why are you asking?”

Reth pulls out a sheet of paper and answers, “There was a letter I found with no names except T and H.” He passes the paper to Najuma. At least her hands are less empty. She doesn’t know what to do with them. “I was wondering if you know anything about it.”

Najuma skims through the letter. The letter was so romantic and so... sad. She’s glad it wasn’t advice on like “do you think I wrote this letter good” or “how should I respond to this?” She was never good with her words, so giving emotional advice really wasn’t her forte. Especially when it comes to the sappy stuff.

Najuma replies slowly, “You think... my dad and Tish were dating at some point?” So, that’s the whole reason why they’re here in Bahari Bay. And, Tish doesn’t know anything about this.

Reth nods his head dumbfoundedly.

She giggles a bit at the idea. “I think you got the wrong people. My dad can’t write words like that. Plus, they really are nothing more than acquaintances, like everyone else.” Najuma passes the letter back to Reth. “Are you sure, though, that it’s to Tish?”

“Positively,” Reth answers and folds the letter back in his pocket. “There’s no one else who’s name that I know that starts with a T. Well, maybe a few. But, it’s most definitely Tish.”

Najuma wasn’t sure what made Reth so confident, but she was convinced that it could really be Tish with the way he declared it. It never crossed her mind that maybe it could be the other two people that lived in Bahari Bay besides her and her dad.

“Do you know anyone else’s name that starts with H—”

Their short conversation ends when Tish finally manages to mine out an iron ore. “Look, Reth! I got sapphire! This is Jel’s starstone!” she cheers. “He’s gonna be so happy to see this.”

Reth smiles brightly. “That’s great!”

Najuma’s mouth agapes. “Do you guys know how rare that is?!”

They both were running up to her, Hodari yelling in the background, “Be careful!” to Najuma, as the previous topic was long forgotten.

It was nearing the end of the day. The skies were a pretty red-orange with some clouds in the sky. As they were heading back to Kilima Village, there were humans using their gliders and jumping off carelessly off the cliffs. Surprisingly, Tish was still pretty energetic compared to Reth and was carrying all their treasures that they earned today. Then again, she probably has carried heavier stuff than Reth ever had.

Tish was humming happily, her hands behind her back as she carried a small but heavy satchel of ores. Even Najuma said that they were pretty lucky today to be finding so much starstones. That’s all Tish’s luck, honestly.

Reth sighs tiredly, swinging his shoulder around to ease the pain.

“Today was nice, wasn’t it?” Tish cheers. “I’m so excited to use these ores. I can just feel the inspiration flowing right now.”

Reth laughs. “What do you plan on making out of them?” he asks.

“Well, for Jel, I was thinking with the sapphire I got, maybe a chair that has the jewel at the top...” Tish talks about all the ideas she could make. “..with the quartz I got for Najuma. Then, with this citrine, I think it would be nice to make a bracelet for you.” They stopped at the front of her store. She takes a small breath and glances at Reth. “You know, despite how strange today was, I had lots of fun.”

Reth scrunches his face. “Strange?! How was I acting strange today?” he asks dumbfoundedly.

“Well, for one, we went to a picnic—”

“We always have picnics when we hangout! Was it the change of scenery?”

“Yeah, no, yeah, but you invited Jina and Hekla to sit with us!” Tish answers quickly. “I had no problem hanging out with them. The more, the merrier after all. Then, we went mining which was a very, very outlandish idea.” She fiddles with her fingers as she was carrying her satchel. Her voice goes more quiet as she says, “It makes me worried, you know? It felt like you were checking out a bucket list with me. Trying to get me close to Hekla ‘cause she used to be a caretaker. Trying to mine because maybe that’s something that you always wanted to try before you... You’re not gonna disappear on me, are you?” At the end of her question, her voice shakes a little.

When their parents disappeared, Tish was really young where it was hard for her to remember their voices. Despite that, she was still affected by their disappearance. She only had Reth to rely on. Her shelter, her clothes, her meals, her medicine. As her older brother, Reth did everything, sacrificed everything for her to grow up well. He deviated from his path in order to get money and food on the table. Reth pretty much raised her.

“I’m not gonna disappear, I promise,” he says gently. “It’s just...”

This is going to sound stupid.

“There was this letter I found at Bahari Bay. To T, Love H.” Reth sucks in a deep break. “I thought it was meant for you and I tried to figure out who it was from.”

Tish furrows her brows. “What type of letter?”

Reth pulls out the letter from his pocket and unfolds it before he hands it to Tish.

“Oh my dragon, this is so sweet!” Tish exclaims. “Oh, I hope it works out for them, whoever they are. This is so romantic... But, this isn’t for me, you know. I would tell you if I was courting someone.” Tish lightly punches Reth on the shoulder. “I tell you and Jel everything! You guys are the closest family I have. Did you think I was dating Hekla or Hodari?” 

Reth looks away. “No...?”

Tish laughs. “Of course not, silly!” She returns the letter back to Reth. “I think you should return it back to where you found it. I’m sure someone has put it there for that person to read it. Maybe it was their meeting spot, or something.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Reth replies as he takes back the letter. “I probably should go do it now while I still have my day off.”

Tish does a shooing motion with her hand. “Go, go! Stay safe, Reth! I had fun today!”

Reth waves back and makes sure that Tish entered Jel’s store before he walks all the way back to Bahari Bay again.

Reth was in a bad situation.

A very bad, bad, bad situation.

Maybe what Tish was worried about earlier, him disappearing, might come true.

Reth was walking back to Bahari Bay and accidentally dropped the letter. It so happened to fall in front of a certain plumehound. As he was about to pick it up, someone’s shoes were in front of him.

Hassian sharply glares at him as he snatches the paper out of Reth’s hands. “Where the hell did you get this from?!” he asks angrily. The paper crinkles in his tight grip. “You didn’t read this, did you?”

Well, what’s the right answer to this? Yes, how else would he figure out the names, then Hassian gets angry at him for reading it. No, he’s never read it, then Hassian gets angry at him for lying. Then, Reth will get—

Will get what? Punched, slapped, choked? Reth knows Hassian isn’t like that.

Reth swallows dryly and as he stood up straight. He knows what the right answer is. “I... I did read your letter and I’m sorry.” He rubs the back of his neck and kicks his foot. “I found it in the ground at Bahari Bay. I didn’t realize it was you who wrote the letter.”

Hassian was still staring at him, eyebrows furrowed. Tau, which also starts with a T, was standing between them, his tail tucked between his legs as he worriedly looks at his partner.

Reth takes a deep breath. “Listen, I’m not going to question who’s it for or anything about it. I just want you to know that I don’t have any bad intentions with it.”

“... Did anyone else saw it?” Hassian asks, voice low and deep.

Reth shakes his head immediately, pauses, then nods. “Only three people. Jel, Najuma, and Tish. They don’t know that it was you though and I was only asking for help to figure out who it belonged to.” He’s definitely going to leave out the part where he thought it was meant for Tish, before he learned that it wasn’t meant for Tish. “I was planning on returning it back to where I found it since I figured that whoever wrote it, or you, have purposefully left it there or something...”

Imagine if he learnt that it was Hassian before Tish told him it wasn’t for her — he could only imagine how many ways it could’ve went and how all those ways will result in embarrassment. Reth is grateful the world didn’t set him up for that. How Reth didn’t think it was Hassian in the first place however was one heck of a wonder though. It’s an open secret about Hassian’s interest in romance stories, so it’s no wonder his writing is on par of one.

“I apologize for raising my voice,” Hassian calmly says, resorting back to his usual stance. He coughs before he stands up straight and crosses his arms. “It’s... a sensitive issue for me. I appreciate that you will not bother me further about it. Thank you for returning it to me. I will take my leave now.” He waves his hand at Tau and the two started continuing their walk back to Bahari Bay.

Well, Reth didn’t exactly returned it to him, but he didn’t have the chance to say that.

.

.

.

Reth steps out of his storeroom and enters the Underground. There was already a bunch of humans all surrounding themselves at the tables. One certain table has soup spilling out all over as the group were yelling at each other and laughing loudly. Some of their friends surrounded them, arms hung over each other’s shoulders as they were cheering.

Great. Now, he’s gotta stay longer after his shift to clean up the mess.

Reth ties his apron around his waist as he makes his way to the bar. As he enters the hallway, a door creaks open. Zeki steps out of the office and adjusts his suit. His four ears perks up as he spot the familiar business associate. 

“Hey, kid. I haven’t seen you all day!” the ginger cat exclaims with a sharp smile that closes his eyes. It turns into a threatening grimace when he asks, “Have you finished your little cake delivery to Tamala, yet?”

Right. The package. The “cake delivery.” The whole reason why he was in Bahari Bay the first place yesterday. Reth groans, sliding a hand down his face. “I’m really sorry, Zeki. You see I was already delivering the package to Tamala when—”

Reth pauses.

Tamala... T... Bahari.

Oh.

Author's Note: There are were some things I wanted to include and fix with this fic, but it's been so long that I have wrote something properly that I feel a little rusty. I appreciate constructive criticism. I still hope that you enjoyed this fic!

[amrv-5]

Today (March 13) is (unbelievably) the first birthday of Somewhere to Get To (the first chapter’s post-date, anyway), an anniversary about which I’m still (evidenced by sheer parentheticals-per-sentence rate) trying to decide how to talk (talking about it, by-the-by, because (earnestness…) it is pretty important to me, it turns out, still, one year on. Who could’ve guessed…?). Mostly I’m floored anybody reads the damned thing at all. Long. Absurd reading commitment. Amazing to me people have dedicated some of their time and attention to something I made — and unbelievable to hear on occasion that it’s emotionally connected to people, or impacted them in some way. Such an honor to be party to that sort of connection thru (fan)fiction. Thank you—really!! Wow!!! 

And, speaking of connection (pretty personal, and decidedly earnest, musings on the fic/anniversary/my relationship to both under the cut, avoidable if you’d like, you’ve been warned) — 

Been rereading some of S2G2, idly, sporadically, as I’ve been considering its first post-iversary. What’s coming to me repeatedly, as I read at a year’s distance, is a strong sense of autobiography—not in terms of event, but in tone, in concern, in most of all a very palpable sense of reckoning with the less-than-ideal that runs through the whole thing. There are some plot beats or details I’d do differently today, and I have a hard time continuing to like the things I make after they take on some distance from me, but (if I can say this about my own silly little fan fiction) I think the urgency of the thing, its emotional intensity and clear desire to try to grab hold of Something (hope? a foundation for belief in others? meaningful good?) remains affecting / effective, or does for me, despite my own work typically striking me poorly. 

Long way to say that I’ve found, reading in March 2024, that the thing’s a pretty clear if entirely unintentional record of the things I was thinking about, trying to work into my worldview, trying in some cases to excise from my worldview, things I was looking for or giving in to, and so on, in the months leading up to March 2023. One of those points of concern (transparently) was the strain of loneliness, the value of connection. With a year’s perspective, it’s important to me to say how grateful I am to have found such a welcoming, lovely, friendly, supportive, all-around-brilliant community in the fandom. I owe so much to the kindness and enthusiasm of the wonderfully talented people I’ve met on here, and I can say confidently that a large part of the reason I can read the terrifically lonely thread running through S2G2 and sense a degree of emotional distance from it—still resonant, but not immediate, identically-felt—is because I have made so many friends I value here, who enrich and enliven my days so beautifully…! So thank you all!

And, relatedly: Another central concern of the fic is the difference between happiness and un-sadness, the value and place of each, struggling to help oneself face hard truths and sort of cosmically-ordained and unavoidable suckiness—the repeated stress on how “[t]here were some things a person could fix, and others one had to live with the best they could.” 

Without wading into details (because who cares and also the What is unimportant) 2022 thru 2023 was the worst span of time I’ve ever experienced, what I retrospectively have been internally tagging the Lost Year(s)—have not before or since been so profoundly, uninterruptedly depressed. I wrote S2G2 in a frantic little burst from the bottom of a hole I sort of assumed at the time I would not get out of (dramatic!). And obviously the seductiveness of despair is a big focus in the course of the fic, but I’m struck on re-reading how ironclad the thing’s grip on hope (or hope in hopelessness) is—reassertion, continually, that experiences are worth having, that some things are worth sticking around for, and so on.

A year on, I’ve by no means solved the problem or perfected the art of balancing That Which Can Be Fixed against That Which Must Be Lived With, but I can say that the Living With is lately going comparatively so well most days it has not been the Central, All-Consuming Concern of Every Waking Moment—living with, tolerating, carrying, and so on—not even an hourly concern, or much of a conscious one, so much as something to check against, watch for, a diligent quiet awareness and work, when necessary, that has been (knock on wood) getting much easier with time, better life circumstances, and people to be around. Aware how significant that change is, on rereading what I was writing when that fixing-vs-living-with was so crushing it sort of tabula rasa’d my sense of self—meaning, mostly, that I’m unbelievably grateful to feel like somebody real again, and I owe that, too, in no small part to a fandom community that is on the whole so positive to be a part of—made it worth it to write, and try to put something into the world, and express passion for something I loved, and feel that passion reflected back to me when it was most needed.

And from that: just wanted to say, from my point of view a few tentative steps into what is beginning to feel like real and meaningful recovery—it gets better!! At the time of initial composition in late 2022/early 2023, I was trying hard to write hope for a few characters I adored, so I could maybe see it for myself, edgewise (truth thru fiction…?). I heard in the course of posting chapters from people who said that the fic resonated with them, that they related to or saw themselves in how I was writing Hawk or Beej, and drew some degree of comfort or catharsis in reading—wonderful, and I don’t think I could ask for more than to believe maybe some people who felt like I did at the time felt a little better because of something I wrote. and if there’s anything I hope people get out of thinking about S2G2 on this year-iversary it’s that uhh it gets better, and stubborn hope + whimsy + sense of humor + enjoyment of the absurd is ur most powerful tool as a human person probably, and also I’m stupid grateful for and very fond of fandom community, and the friends I’ve been so lucky to make thru this space (much love)!! Thank you for reading—fic, or this weird scrawl on my blog, or both—anyway, thanks! means a lot and always has! have a wednesday treat of some kind + treat urself nice ! who knows how to end these things. Alexa turn off earnestpost. Earnestposting end. Stop Post

[sitp-recs]

HP Rec Fest, Day 19

@hprecfest couldn’t come up with a better prompt on my birthday if they wanted 😂 my moment to be the horny on main has finally come (pun intended) and I had so much fun planning this rec post - it’s been a long time coming too, as naturally this was the very first prompt I checked when the fest started! You can probably guess just by looking at this rec list that I’m a big smut fan and champion. I love reading it, talking about it and reccing it. The fics I reread the most are PWPs and I’m even more obsessed when they offer hot dirty talk (am actually picky about it!) and exceptional character development. In fact, some of the most insightful, sensitive and sophisticated character studies I’ve seen come from deeply underrated smutty fics and I’ll die on this hill!

Today I’m breaking my own rule of only reccing two fics and avoiding stories I’ve recced before because a) this is too good an opportunity to scream about my faves again b) it’s my birthday and I can do whatever I want 😌 the Drarry rec was actually bit more challenging as my usual smutty favorites involve rare pairs. I’ve been working hard to highlight lesser known fics but this time I’m staying true to the request - which of course it’s completely subjective - and chose my favourite even if it’s a widely known and popular fic. I feel so privileged to be reading and reccing these masterpieces as a birthday celebration! You’ll find some of my favourite quotes below, as a treat 🔥

Day 19) fic with the hottest smut

Drarry:

Tales from the Special Branch by Femme (E, WIP)

“You slag," he says, but there's no sharpness to the words. They're warm and soft, and he stills, looking up at Potter, his heart stuttering. "Whore," Potter whispers. It comes out like an endearment, gentle against Draco's jaw.

Draco's eyes flutter shut. His whole body feels heated, flushed, every nerve ending aware of Potter pressed against him. The phial of lube is still clenched tight in his fingers; he lets it slide free, dropping to the coverlet beside them. "I want you," he says. "It's madness, I know. We've lost our bloody minds." He opens his eyes, and Potter's watching him, hair mussed, cheeks pink.

"I can't keep away," Potter says. He strokes a knuckle along Draco's face. "I don't want to keep away."

I considered going for a hidden gem but it was no use, I just had to celebrate this epic classic and stay true to my heart! when it comes to ust and smut imo this is hands down the hottest thing I’ve ever read. there are so many iconic and breathtaking sex scenes it’s impossible to pick just one; I’ve reread most of them more times than I care to admit and they all have carved their way inside my brain. I love how desperately wanton Harry and Draco are for each other in this fic! I keep replaying every dirty word, every slutty kiss, every chaotic and intense af sexual encounter they have over the course of this superb and deliciously long case fic/secret relationship series. at this point everyone and their dog has heard of, and read, this series but if you haven’t yet you’re in for a treat! block your schedule this holiday season and go grab some popcorn for this brilliant masterclass in writing, flangst and smut - so much top notch smut to feast on you’ll want to live in this universe forever. you’re welcome!

Rare pair:

Euphoria by birdsofshore (Albus/Scorpius + Albus/Draco, E, 37k)

"Please." I can see Al's legs quivering. They must be getting tired, hooked over Father's shoulders like that for so long. "Please, Draco. Fuck me. Fuck me some more."

Bloody hell. His words go straight to my prick. Father's arse cheeks clench, and he thrusts forward a little deeper into Al, as if he can't help himself. Al moans, and I don't know what's better, hearing it, or seeing my father's reaction to it.

"Very well." Father pulls back to a kneeling position, his hands gripping Al's thighs. I can see Al's hole stretched around the head of my father's cock. "Watch. You might learn something."

I double dare you to find anything hotter than this fic and believe me, I’ve read TONS of smut across many ships and fandoms. Am I biased due to my particular fondness for age gap and sharing/cuckolding kink? Maybe so 🌝 but I promise you this is unlike any other smut you’ve read before - it’s not only smoking hot with the kind of self-indulgent, relentless athletic sex that leaves you sweating (and horny), it’s also pov multiple written in the first person and how brilliant is that??? birds sells herself short in the AN saying this is just 30k of pure unadulterated porn but I’d argue this is actually a masterpiece, an extremely clever, nuanced and perfectly executed character study, mainly of Scorpius. I am impressed beyond words by what birds was able to deliver in 30k of yes, unapologetic kinky smut. DILF Draco, wanton Albus and sweet conflicted Scorp are a sight to behold and will live rent free in your mind after you read this 🪦

Bonus:

Utter Cockslut (A Worthy Cause) by Lokifan (Drarry, Draco/others, E, 7.5k)

Harry grinned darkly. “All right, Draco, get ready for the last few. Make sure you’re good for them; I’m a man who keeps my promises.”

Draco went up on his toes, craning round to see the next wizard. He strained to make out faces in the murky light; after being fucked by Weasley, he knew it could be almost anyone waiting for their chance to have him.

He felt anxiety shiver through him deliciously. Harry went and spoke to the wizards there, his voice low and businesslike. Giving them instructions on how to use him, maybe? Draco hurt from desire.

gangbang galore!!!! this fic has been one of my favourite PWPs to revisit for some years now. I’ll never get over Lokifan’s smut tbh, every fic was obviously written to check my personal boxes and the pacing, characterization and dialogue are so masterfully done I’m always gutted when it’s over. they’ve written smut for some of my favorite ships and they’re all equally delicious but nothing beats (hehe) this one: downright sinful and decadent as the summary suggests but also surprisingly very sweet! established drarry doing the nasty together is my comfort food and here you can feel how much trust and love they have for each other. Harry & Draco are 100% connected throughout the whole fic and the bits of playful teasing, desperate affection and tender aftercare in-between fucks made me swoon! this is a must read for anyone who loves to see Draco getting some diq and loving it, but also to my fellow Dron fans out there! their smutty times are deliciously hot and so funny too, with a lovable horny Ron being egged on by the devils. HBD me! 😂🎉

[antebellumite]

(since i sense you may be having an atticus finch moment rn) is go set a watchman "canon" to you? i always liked tkam but i never read gsaw (even though someone gave it to me when it came out) because i got a weird feeling about the circumstances of it being published among other things. never talked to anybody about it so figured i'd ask a certified tkam enjoyer

i am having Such an atticus finch moment that i have three fics in the works for him

ohhh boy so hear me out.

warning: i'm rereading tkam as we speak and its been a while since ive read gsaw

in my own personal head-interpretation of to kill a mockingbird, in which the irl reality of its publication is disregarded, gsaw is canon in the sense that it's the alternate universe of to kill a mockingbird, with the point of divergence being the tom robinson trial.

tom robinson is found guilty: atticus experiences Character Growth and becomes and remains the folk hero Defender of Rights and dilf we know today

tom robinson is not found guilty [or at least, not found guilty via the defense atticus uses in gsaw]: atticus basically remains on the natural course he was in the beginning of tkam to bigotry and Racism TM

tldr: gsaw, on its own, is not a good book, and nor is it fully canon, but it does serve as great contextualization to the person that atticus is in tkam and who atticus could have been.

at the beginning of the book and throughout the trial, atticus finch is clearly a very White Moderate in our Modern Terms, in the sense that he might disapprove of the racism exhibited by the citizens of maycomb, but he also is more than content to not do anything about it. his worldview is essentially: "man it sure sucks that my neighbors are prejudiced and more than willing to sentence an innocent man to death, and but i guess i'll tolerate it and spend time around them because they're good people at heart [to other white people]." you know how one of the most memorable lessons atticus teaches to scout is to have empathy for others? my argument is that atticus's practicing of that is what makes him to give too much leeway to the bigoted members of the community around him.

we see this with ike finch, maycomb's "sole surviving confederate veteran" and stonewall jackson fetishist. he makes his appearance early on in the book, prior to the robinson case even being introduced. according to scout, he comes by at least once a year to "rehash the war" with atticus. while i can assume this means that ike is representing the confederacy and atticus the union in this conversation, considering that in the immediate paragraph after, atticus states "this time we aren't fighting the yankees, we're fighting our friends. but remember this, no matter how bitter things get, they're still our friends and this is still our home." it implies that in this american civil war replay, either both of them are identifying with the confederacy, or ike is and atticus is more than okay to go along with it. and in addition, atticus's apparent determination to remain on good terms with the people of maycomb no matter how bitter it got adds questions to just what he would have considered bitter enough for the people of maycomb to no longer remain his friends. if the mob at the scene at the jailhouse actually managed to lynch tom robinson, which they were probably going to do, until scout saved the day, would that have been "bitter enough" for atticus to reconsider being friends with murderers?

actually the fact that he adds in 'and this is still our home' makes me think he was planning to leave maycomb entirely if that scenerio actually happened but i digress

and then you get to ms. dubose, who serves as another aspect to how atticus views the racism of his town. when ms. dubose dies, he calls her the most bravest person he'd ever known, for having the courage to die clean of her morphine addiction, and also a "great lady". which, i understand, in part, is because she Just Died and he's talking to Jem and Scout who are children, but the way that atticus talks about it makes you feel as though he's implying that her courage serves as either recompense or excuse for a. the racism and b. the whole thing where she essentially verbally harassed jem and scout whenever they came by for the horrid sin of walking where she could see them.

of course there's also maycomb trial in general. atticus obviously knows that he cant win-- the famous 'just because you're licked doesn't mean you can give up' quote-- because he understands the prejudice of the town. but i believe that behind the quote, atticus still had faith in the judicial process, just not in the people who were in charge of it in maycomb. its part of the reason for his appeal-- to get robinson to a higher court where the people there could be more open-minded.

so in essence, atticus at the turning point of his story [ the trial ], is someone who's

1. overly lenient and sympathetic view of his maycomb neighbors allows him to excuse much of the harmful rhetoric and actions they perpetrate

2. considers racism to be, while Bad, a certain type of bad that is ultimately forgivable/excusable. i think there's also evidence in tkam that he basically also thinks the same thing for other forms of bigotry but i'm not going to look for them.

3. has trust in the judicial system

so from there, we have the tom robinson trial.

i like to think that what acting as tom robinson's defense attorney did for atticus was that it forced him to actually reckon with the racism of maycomb as directed towards an actual human being rather than a Nebulous Construct. when tom robinson got declared guilty despite being innocent, it showed him the actual harmful effects of what the people of maycomb believed, on an actual human being, who was subsequently presumably murdered via 17 gunshot wounds. it showed the failures of a system that allowed for tom robinson to be murdered and sentenced for a crime he didn't commit in the first place.

in gsaw, without tom robinson being convicted, i don't think that lesson would have hit so hard. to gsaw!atticus, robinson being declared not guilty is proof that the racism of maycomb is ultimately Not That Harmful, proof that the system ultimately Works As It Should, and it allows him to sink deeper into interactions with more extreme racist individuals, and eventually become the verison of atticus we see in gsaw.

in addition, gsaw!atticus's defense for tom robinson that gets him acquitted is that the robinson's presumed rape of mayella was consensual, whereas tkam!atticus reveals that the rape didn't happen between robinson and mayella in the first place (although, you know.) which implies a contrast between gsaw!atticus and tkam!atticus where tkam!atticus was focused on exonerating robinson's public image in order to then acquit robinson, but gsaw!atticus was focused on acquitting robinson head on, even if it meant attacking mayella instead.

what this would mean is that gsaw!atticus might not even have had all that much of an interaction with tom robinson, and therefore wasn't able to do that whole tkam-trademark Understanding and Seeing Him As A Person, thereby Removing his past Blinders to Injustice TM TM TM.

and this leads to the changes in atticus from tkam and gsaw. they're still the same person, but with a different turning point.

[halfagone]

i saw you reblog a post where we can ask about your fics!! >:] i know what im reading tonight

but!! current favorite wip? current hated wip? why

Hehehe, happy to see ya!

I think right now my favorite WIP is probably bloodlines. I absolutely love LL's Ascent, but that was a fic that was only meant to be a handful of inter-connected one-shots, whereas bloodlines is one of those fics where I wanted it to be a very... complex, long-form fic from the very beginning. The themes and tone of that fic is consistent throughout, so I'm a little more... confident about that one I guess? It's always nice to be confident in your own work. :3

Off With [the Demon's] Head. I reread it earlier today, and I remember having an amazing time writing it, but dear god this new chapter is kicking my ass. BE NICE WITH ME CLARK- *clears throat* Anyways.

I hope you enjoy your read-through! >:3

[evieelyzabethh]

May I please request a maybe a few headcanons with Giles, like what it would be like to date him. Or a fic where he confesses his feelings to the reader. ( gn reader is completely okay, but maybe fem reader, authors choice of course.)

ofc you can!!! There isn't nearly enough Giles content (or any Buffy content for that matter).

*for the purposes of these headcannons you are Buffy's new Watcher instead of Wesley*

🟔 the relationship started out as an enemies to lovers type deal. At first he was confident that he couldn't be so easily be replaced in Buffy's life, but you were a few years younger than him, not nearly as uptight, and far more patient than he was at the beginning

🟔 While he was more of a paternal figure, you were more of the cooler big sister type

🟔 This being said, he was slow to warm up to you. Giles is a bitter old man, and you were so damn nice to the point that it bothered him. Truth be told, he felt a bit guilty. You were so willing and eager to learn from him and he was keeping you at a distance just because he was insecure

🟔 The more he got to know you, the more he softened. Before he was so averse to your being there, he never actually listened to what you had to say

🟔 You started spending a lot of time together after a while. You spent many early mornings in the library and late nights in his home where he walked you through his personal journals and volumes

🟔 Before either one of you noticed, you got closer. Soon enough, you knew how he liked his coffee, and he knew your opinions on every book you'd ever picked up. It became a routine to carpool to school in the mornings then back to his place. It had even gotten to the point where you had stolen multiple pairs of his old jumpers and the kids had started to notice.

🟔 Buffy would give him sooooo much shit.

"So...anything you wanna tell me?" She was snooping and she knows it. Giles, however, is painfully oblivious. He hasn't noticed how his eyes always find you, how he'll smile at random moments at the mere thought of you, how he trips over himself and his words whenever you are in the room. He used to be the most eloquent man Buffy knew and now...he reminded her of a teenage boy.

"You have a test tomorrow in chemistry." His glasses were perched on the tip of his nose while he was rereading Dracula, which was odd in of itself. If he was researching vampires, he wouldn't have gone for that, meaning you probably mentioned it and he picked it up.

"I do? That's beside the point, any new developments in your life?" He didn't even bother looking at her.

"Is there something you want to tell me, otherwise I'm a bit busy." His sentence trailed off as he began walking back into his office when the door opened, and his head perked up so fast his glasses nearly fell off.

"Darling, I thought you were staying home today."

"Darling?!" Her comment went ignored.

"I was going to, but I left my book here last night." It made a lot of sense to Buffy why he liked you just from that. Bookworms were so his type.

"Giles stole it." You both looked to Buffy.

"Huh?" She got out of her seat and plucked Dracula from his hands.

"I'm assuming this is yours. Giles wouldn't be reading it otherwise, he says it's distasteful, immature and... what else did you have to say about it." His face went red as he took off his glass. He tried to get the book back from her, but she was already half-way across the room flipping through it.

"I assure you, she is only making a big deal out of nothing. I haven't flipped through it in a while and I went through a very pretentious phase in my youth-"

"The most vacuous and insipid thing you'd read since Xander got you to pick up a comic book." She interrupted. "That's what you said. Guess you must really like her to pick it up again."

🟔 He'd totally call you Darling, My Love, Honey.

🟔 His love language would also be words of affirmation and acts of service. Constantly praising you, giving you words of encouragement, and just has a very affirming presence. He would also not mind doing chores, reading to you, and doing pretty much anything you ask

🟔 He loves feeling needed. One of his biggest insecurities is becoming obsolete or too old, so being able to do things for you makes him feel all warm and fuzzy inside

🟔 This being said, he is sooo good during that time of the month. You want some chocolate; he already bought it. You want a heating pad; it's already ready. He has a medicine cabinet of ibuprofen and Midol just for you bby. He'd have a calendar tracking it for you as it's just another way he looks out for you.

🟔 He also probably has a calendar marked up with both of your events. He runs on a strict schedule, and though it can be a bit much, it is appreciated. You've never been late to anything and its because of him

🟔 He would also partake in your hobbies to spend time with you. Since he is an old man, I think he would really enjoy something like pottery or crocheting/knitting

🟔 You two would also have book club regularly. One of his first Valentines Day gifts to you was giving you his very annotated copy of one of his favorite books

🟔 OMG he would sing to you!!! He has an entire song book dedicated to you. He also just has such a nice voice so there are many nights you fall asleep in his arms with him singing or reading to you

[abovecalamity]

If I may - I tried to match the reaction pics to the stories. hehe.

Fic that made me laugh: Monopolistic position by @sassymillenialscorpio Fernando/Lewis - 1.1k - n/r Crack. Fun. Short.

“I said I don’t have enough money.” He looked up just in time to see the wolfish smile appear on Fernando’s face.

Fic that made me cry: sanctuary by @sunshinesebby Charles/Seb - 233k (so far) - E Despair. Three am read. Reading that pulls you in and will never let you go again, ever.

"People will eat moldy food or contaminated water over starving every time, in the end. It's the hope. Maybe you will survive the poison, but you know you won't survive the starving. It's so human."

Fic that gave me a story hangover: One thousand laps of Jeddah by @ininininininstayoutstayout George centric - 68k - G Literally concern increasing bit by bit. Organised insanity. My love for time loops is thriving. I'm constantly thinking about this.

It’s a special kind of torture, devised just for George. There are only two constants, as far as he can tell; tomorrow is always today, and George will fuck up everything that he tries. Someone somewhere must really, really hate him.

Fic I want to discuss book-club style: Parallel Players by @parallelplayers George/Lance - 414k (so far) - E A whole ass alternative timeline and so much detail. I want to talk about it forever. Glance manifesto.

“Uh, this is - how long is this gonna be?” Seventy five slides, but it was laid out with five introductory slides, forty Lance slides, fifteen slides Fernando, and then ten analysis, questions and conclusion slides. “You asked me for my opinion.”

It's George's world, we're all just living in it basically.

Fic that got me a little flustered: Kamikaze by @pitconfirm George/Lance - 12.4k - E Altered my brain chemistry. Oh my. Always pausing when reading for the overwhelming feelings that flush my brain.

George is fucked.  He’d thought it was bad before; desperately wanting Lance to hate him. However, wanting Lance to like him is indescribably worse.

Fic by one of my fave authors: bedrooms in budapest by @merenwenformulauno Fernando/Lance - 4.3 k - E Start of a great series. Obsessed with the characterisation. Sad for everyone that misses out on this.

Dimly, Lance thinks back to other times he has found himself with Fernando in his hotel room. Had the Spaniard bottled it before? It seems ridiculous to think someone like Fernando Alonso might have been intimidated by Lance.

Fic I reread more than once: tbh I reread almost every good fic all the time. maybe we got lost (in translation) by @alpinelogy Esteban&/Lance - 6.7k - T Language struggles, so relatable. Feeds into my obsession with Lesteban. Again, communication centric ahhh!

The consonants feel weird, clunky, so much different from the free flowing French ones. Even so, the feel of it isn't bad, it's different but not bad. He hums a bit in thought, “I guess I am a beanpole.” He says in French but repeats the word in English again.

Fic I sent to everyone I know: If not, I'm sending it to you now: cassini's descent by basedchamp Lewis/Seb - 3.3k - T SPACE. Atmosphere description over the moon. Lonely together.

On Mars, men do not deny themselves. Sebastian reaches out and tucks a braid behind Lewis’ ear. Lewis leans into his hand, just a touch, and they sit like this, across from each other with Westminster Palace between them.

Fic that made me fall in love with an author: Heaven’s Gates Won’t Open Up for Me by @lil-shiro Fernando/Lance - 6k - E Wings. Love. After reading this, there was no turning back on any fic of yours.

Fernando never once thought that Lance would be the one to ruin him. The undefined variable in his equation, the unknown. I should’ve known better, he thinks to himself while looking up to the other in flying circles above his head. Oh well, he’ll just have to live with it.

I've read many many many more great fics this year as well. What a great year for the reader inside me.

[monikafilefan]

20 Questions for Fanfic Writers

Tagged by @slippinmickeys <3

1. How many works do you have on A03?

75 (maybe one day I’ll reach 100?)

2. What’s your total A03 word count?

589,435

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Basically just txf fandom but I have dabbled in GoT, The Fall, and Sex Ed.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Five Years and a Lifetime

Only One Choice

All Eyes Lead to the Truth co-written

Together

Language of Love: Prompts of Angst and Romance

5. Do you respond to comments?

I absolutely do, just not every one of them. Unfortunately A03 counts author responses as comments and that bugs me, but I wholly appreciate any and all feedback!

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

Oh damn. Probably a chapter in my prompts collection called That Night in 2014 when Scully left, and one called Bone Deep set post Tithonus are angsty enough. I love writing angst, but prefer to leave my fic on less of a dreary note.

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

Ha it turns out I write a lot of fic with happier endings, but I guess Brother Bill ended very happily considering it was during the cancer arc. There’s plenty more I could’ve chosen though.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not that I know of.

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

Yes, I mix it up. Lots of soft, sensual sex, but also some downright dirty smut too. Depends on the tone of the story.

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

I wrote one where Mulder and Scully go see Jean Milburn from Sex Education and have a therapy session. Coming Undone. It’s ridiculous and funny and was way too fun to write haha!

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of but I hope not.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes but I can’t remember which one 🫣

13. Have you ever co-written before?

YES many times and I love it. I’ve written with several amazing writers @cultureisdarkbeer @admiralty-xfd @fridaysat9 @gaycrouton @slippinmickeys one several different fics.

14. What’s your all time fave ship?

MSR ofc! I do also love Jamie/Claire and Stella/Reed.

15. What WIP you want to finish?

I have this Unruhe fic that isn’t even that long but I cannot seem to fucking finish it for the life of me. I will eventually though.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Details? Creating a scene and capturing the characters as close to THEM as I possibly can comes easier to me than other things.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Probably dialogue and writing longer novel length fics.

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

I want to dive into the Outlander fandom very badly but I’m too scared to try Gaelic/accents and be happy with the outcome. Maybe one day.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

X-Files! I was just a wee 15yr old on my dialup desktop trying to write a post FTF fic on the original XF storyboards. I never did finish it past the second chapter.

20. Fave fics you’ve written?

I have a few I really love, but I am kind of hard on myself as a writer. I enjoy writing but can’t seem to reread my own stuff and come away beaming about it. The ones off the top of my head I’m proud and have not mentioned above of are A Life to Remember - an AU were Mulder and Scully are doctors and meet under interesting circumstances. Lots of UST, angst and family fluff as they flashback to their past on how they met.The Things They Say in the Dark is another one I love. It has angst, lots of hurt/comfort (not to mention Scully washing Mulder’s hair post Amor Fati) and serious yearning! Honestly love these two so feel free to check them out if you haven’t, I’d be blessed if you loved them too!

Tagging @today-in-fic and anyone else who wants to join in. This was fun!

[qdkdraws]

Hi!

So I recently downloaded Webtoon and of course the first thing I searched for was your adaptation of the fic, ‘A Horrific Fantasy’! I didn’t realise it was a fanfic, so I might wait until Alastor is introduced in the comic before reading as I really don’t want to be spoiled on what he’ll be like in it.

So, I started reading the webcomic and I was just in absolute awe of every single thing about it. I’ve reread it multiple times now because I just love your art style so much. The colors, the linework, the beautiful detailing on the text boxes, all the textures in the backgrounds, the composition (I especially love the start of the Prologue and how the text box drips into the present day), the amazing human designs of all the characters — IT’S ALL AMAZING!!! 🌟

I loved it so much that the first thing I did when I saw my friend today was show the comic to him, and then I did the same thing when I called my family from home today — I was just showing them all like LOOK AT HOW AMAZING THIS IS!!

Besides me being an art student who loves to fangirl about these things, I also wanted to ask if you have any art advice for people who want to make comics or just any general advice that helped you improve as an artist? No worries at all if not, though!

I also always like to ask people who their favorite artists are as I find it interesting to learn about other people’s inspirations, so if you’re happy to share about that as well I’d love to know!

I hope this ask wasn’t too long, but I’ll finish it off by saying I’m really looking forward to future chapters (no rush at all, though — I understand these things take a lottt of time and effort to make) as well as all the artwork you post here on Tumblr because it’s all incredible! Hope you have a nice weekend! :D 💖

I don't think it's worth waiting for the comic to check out the fanfic, because it will take me a long time to get to the chapter with his first appearance (and my work schedule + additional art for the soul is not helping with this, haha)

Well, considering that I'm just self-taught, I can only advise a lot of watching and practicing. This is how I learned: I didn’t have any special courses or training (although that’s obvious, I guess xD), I just found cool guys and tried to adapt some their details to my art - sometimes it worked, sometimes not, and in the end we have what we have now.

Favorite artists… Pixmilk (his Inktober art is absolute gold), Piсolo-kun (or rather his challenge 365), Thomas Fischbach and his comic "Twokinds" (love how simple and harmonious his style looks), Nicholas Kole, Glen Keane and his sketches. I also really adore the old stylized cartoons like "My Life as a Teenage Robot" and how the designs don't even try to be realistic but are still expressive.

Aaaand thanks for the feedback! ~<3 This is my first comic where I do both the storyboard and the art myself (in my previous comics I was just an artist, the layout was done by the author), and such a high rating motivates me to continue trying (◕‿◕)