#fandoms for some reason. like its not abnormal for me to see someone i follow for their amphibia art start posting dndads

[oneinchfrog]

dndads amphibia au is calling my name but how would it work... the number 3 is so important to the lore/worldbuilding but theres 4 teens......

like obviously scary is sasha, and i think link would be anne. and the core and the doodler work out perfectly

but then whos marcy??? and what do we do with the other one??? taylor has more of a marcy/wit oriented personality, which is kind of necessary to be the wielder of the wit gem, but normal seems more like the type to Trap His Friends In a Frog Dimension Because He's Scared of Losing Them. And it would also make sense for him to be marcy so then taylor could be sprig (bc link and taylor are so close.)

but then it would also be really interesting for scary to be marcy? she's not the wittiest person but it would make more sense for her to live with andrias (who is willy for sure) and doodler-possessed scary would be SUPER NEAT

BUT SHIT WAIT possessed normal is my bae and ik that was a headcanon thats been floating around..... idk im already thinking to much abt it

[selfindulgentfandomstuff]

Violet Psychopath + Abnormal Psychologist = Loving Relationship?

CHAPTER 3: ABDUCTION

———

Fandom: CBS MacGyver (2016 reboot)

Pairing: Murdoc x Emmett Becker (fan character)

CW: kidnapping, drugging, killing mentions (undetailed), violence mentions (undetailed), needles, knives, general morbidity associated with a character like Murdoc lol

———

“MMPH!!” came their muffled cry of surprise when a gloved hand clamped over Emmett’s mouth, quickly followed by the unmistakable feeling of a blade pressing lightly into the side of their neck and the sound of a familiar voice.

“Hiya Doc, how’ve you been?”

There was no mistaking who that voice belonged to, not for Emmett at least. It was Murdoc. He’d escaped. He was out. And now he was in their apartment.

‘Huh, that’s probably why they wouldn’t let me in last week..he wasn’t there anymore’ they thought briefly, the thought echoing vaguely in their mind as they processed exactly the situation they were in currently. Their train of thought was interrupted as Murdoc spoke again.

“No, no, really, Emmett! I wanna hear how you’ve been! I mean, we see each other daily, it's been almost a week now? We gotta catch up! Say, I know just the place, actually!” he let the words flow effortlessly out, his voice taking on that artificially chipper tone to it, as if it were hiding something much darker just beneath the surface- and from Emmett’s experience? It was safe to say, it almost certainly was. He paused for a moment before realizing he couldn’t get a response out of Emmett if his hand was still over their mouth.

“Now, Emmett, so far, you’ve been very good for me… if I take my hand away, you’re not gonna scream. Right?”

Emmett knew full well what Murdoc was capable of, even before they’d gotten to know him in more detail at the prison; he’d most likely slit their throat without a second thought if he thought they’d jeopardize his newfound freedom. And the only reason this was a ‘most likely’ situation and not a ‘certainly’ situation was because Murdoc seemed to find Emmett fairly amusing. And MAN, was Emmett going to capitalize on that fact.

So, Emmett nodded a bit, to indicate their intended cooperation with Murdoc, to which the man smiled and let his hand fall away from their mouth, resting, instead, on their shoulder. The knife remained close, albeit slightly further away, from Emmett’s neck. ‘The threat is there’ it said, ‘but I trust you, more than most’.

Murdoc looked at Emmett, as though trying to gauge whether or not they intended to try to escape. After a few seconds of scrutiny, he looked somewhat satisfied and lowered his knife, putting more distance between its blade and Emmett’s neck. Emmett breathed an audible and shuddery sigh of relief at that, looking visibly less terrified.

Murdoc felt a brief pang of guilt. Part of him reveled in the power he finally had over one who typically held some level of power over him (the talk sessions in prison). But most of him just felt plain old bad at the fact that he was so clearly scaring Emmett, someone who had to be one of the only people on the planet he could accurately call a friend. Well, he wasn’t even sure about that. He wanted to call Emmett a friend. He wasn’t sure the feeling was mutual. It probably wasn’t, given the fact that he was currently kidnapping them at knifepoint. Oh well. Another problem for another time, he supposed.

With that thought in mind to quell his vague remorse, he gave Emmett a stern look that said, ‘don’t try anything while I get what I need’. Murdoc pocketed the knife as he grabbed out some zip ties and expertly fastened them around Emmett’s wrists. As he finished, he was less keen to pull out his knife again and instead opted to simply guide Emmett to where they were going with a steady pair of hands at their shoulders.

Soon enough, Murdoc had them arrived at a vehicle, ‘probably stolen’ Emmett thought, stupidly. Murdoc opened the passenger side, ushering Emmett inside. They briefly wondered why he was letting them sit there and not having them safely tucked in the trunk of the car, before they felt a quick pinch of pain, as a needle entered their arm and soon after, they lost consciousness. As they faded out, they had the realization that, ‘oh, that was why he’s letting me sit here, I won’t be able to…’ and just like that, Emmett was out like a light.

…

Meanwhile, at the Phoenix Foundation, things were in chaos. Director Matilda ‘Matty’ Webber was shouting orders, lab techs were hurriedly running to assist the more high level agents, the search was on, one of their own had been abducted, and by Murdoc, no less.

“People! This is Murdoc we’re dealing with here. You all know what that man is capable of. He has one of our own agents. I need eyes on every vehicle leaving the Hollywood Hills area ASAP!”

“Ma’am, we’re working as fast as we can-”

“Work faster”

Matty was not one to let emotions compromise her work but it was tough not to get a little freaked out when the world’s most infamous assassins had just kidnapped one the people she was responsible for…responsible for returning safely to their friends and family…

Especially when said agent was not, in fact, officially trained for working as an agent. Matty had hired Emmett on the condition that they stay in the lab, working in their speciality, psychology, and not in the field, at least, not until they’d completed schooling on fieldwork.

Now, an untrained member of the Phoenix Foundation, was at the mercy of one of the single most dangerous men alive.

The thought ran like a lightning bolt through her brain as she alerted MacGyver, Riley, Jack and Bozer of the situation, calling them to the war room.

As the four elite agents filed into the room, Matty remained stone faced, laying out the facts of the situation carefully, “Listen, guys, we have a major situation here. One of our agents has been abducted by Murdoc-”

Riley cut in immediately, “Wait, since when has Murdoc been out of prison?”

“Our intel says he escaped six days ago, from supermax prison-”

Then Jack interrupted, “A-And you didn’t think to tell us this, why?”

Matty shook her head in exasperation, “It was on a need to know basis-”

“And we didn’t need to know?! Matty, that homicidal maniac has it out for every Phoenix Agent here, especially us five!”

Matty, ignoring Jack, continued, “I’m sorry to say that the agent Murdoc has kidnapped is Dr. Emmett Becker, our resident criminal and forensic psychologist and the psychologist assigned by us to work with Murdoc in prison.”

MacGyver looked stricken, as though it was directly his fault that Emmett had been put in such peril, “Matty…Emmett.. Emmett isn’t a trained agent yet…”

Matty sympathized with Mac, saying, “I know, that’s why it is imperative that we recover them as soon as humanly possible- no scratch that, I want the impossible, guys. I need Emmett back and safe in their own apartment, yesterday, got that?

Everyone in the room nodded solemnly as Matty continued to give them all the relevant information before sending them on their way, saying, as they exited the room, “Oh, and guys? Make sure to put Murdoc back into federal custody, while you’re at it. Good luck.”

…

Whistling.

That was the first thing Emmett’s brain registered as they slowly came to again.

The next thing was the dark, coolness of the room they were in. Then the harsh cold of the metal chair they were strapped to. Strapped to? Oh, yea, there were also the plastic zip ties now binding Emmett to the aforementioned chair.

And of course, the whistling. The whistling? It was some tune Emmett couldn’t quite place, familiar, but not. They groggily wondered what song it was supposed to be before their brain replaced that question with the more important one of who was whistling it?

As if to answer their unspoken question, there from the shadows emerged Murdoc. It was more than a little unsettling, the way his pale features stood out amongst the rest of his dark hair and ensemble which allowed him to otherwise blend perfectly with the shadows around him.

Emmett wasn’t entirely with it quite yet, still waking from whatever sedative Murdoc had injected them with. As they did so their brain fixated on the visual input that was Murdoc standing before them, partially enshrouded in darkness still. They noticed his skin, which looked almost muted in the low light, his aquiline nose, the way his thin lips curled up in a sinister smile. And his eyes, dark and swirling with secrets untold… he was.. kinda really pretty actually, they thought aloud, albeit quietly.

“Wait. I said that out loud didn’t I..” Emmett murmured softly.

Murdoc’s smile widened, revealing a few sharp looking teeth.

“Aww, you think I’m pretty?” he crooned back at them, his voice taking on a sickeningly sweet sound. He chuckled a bit before adding, “Hey, in your defense, I did dose you with some pretty strong stuff!”

Murdoc straightens up and again before pacing around, circling the chair Emmett is seated in, tracing a finger along the top edge of the chair seat. He momentarily considered ghosting over Emmett’s shoulders with his hands- oh how he wanted to touch them, hold them, even hug them- but quickly pulled away, not wanting to unnecessarily freak them out. He may be a psychopathic murderer but boundaries are important and he wasn’t about to break them. Well, at least not in that sense, anyway.

Emmett looked…well, surprisingly calm, all things considered. Murdoc wasn’t entirely sure if the drugs had worn off yet but he was at least glad to see that they weren’t entirely terrified anymore, if only artificially.

After all, he just wanted to talk with them. That was all this was about really. He wanted to get to know them and for them to know him, in an environment where he could express himself, aka, an environment where he wasn’t handcuffed to a table- even if that meant Emmett had to be instead. Eventually, he told himself, they’d work up to not having to do this. He didn’t want it like this. He wanted Emmett to not be afraid, not try to run away, to like him and want to talk to him. But he knew he’d have to work up to that. He knew he’d have to do something different in the future. This wasn’t gonna work if he kept up like this. He’d have to try a different strategy. One that didn’t involve abducting an unwilling Emmett. But for now, for now, this was what was happening.

For all his bravado and general creepiness, he really was trying, in his own twisted way, to flirt with Emmett.

Not that Emmett had any clue. From their point of view, as they slowly became more conscious and less affected by the sedative, Murdoc had probably abducted them to force Phoenix Foundation intel and secrets out of them and then kill them.

“So..Murdoc..what do you want?” they said, their voice becoming less scratchy and more normal.

Murdoc simply looked at them, tilting his head quizzically. It reminded Emmett, oddly enough, of the movement their childhood dog made when she was confused. ‘Man’ they thought, ‘he even has those dark puppy eyes too, doesn’t he..’

Murdoc hadn’t figured he’d get this far. He hadn’t yet figured out his ‘reason’ for why he was kidnapping Emmett. He just looked stupidly at them, trying desperately to think of some cover question to lessen their confusion. He wasn’t going to just admit to them then and there that he liked them.

He started out in an uncharacteristically unsteady voice, “Um.. right. I- You need- you are going to tell me everything you know about Phoenix Agent Angus MacGyver”

‘Smart’ he thought to himself, ‘shift the focus to someone else’

Emmett shook their head before hurriedly adding, “I-It’s not that I won’t tell you, it’s just that- well, I don’t know much about Mac! I used to think he worked at a Think Tank. I only recently found out about his real work.”

Murdoc, already running out of follow up questions nodded in acknowledgement before deciding that it was probably time to release Emmett back to their apartment. ‘I mean what else am I supposed to do if I’m too chicken to tell them how I feel?’ he thought, disgusted with his own behavior.

“Okay.”

“Okay? That’s it? Aren’t y-you, gonna, shit, I don’t know, t-torture me or something..?” Emmett asked, clearly still scared and confused.

“No.”

“No? So, what, you’re just gonna l-let me go??”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe??”

Circling as he was about Emmett’s chair, Murdoc paused behind them and suddenly Emmett felt that familiar pinch of the needle before they lost consciousness, again.

…

“Emmett?”

Emmett felt like they were underwater, just hearing the sounds of the above world from within the depths.

“Emmett??”

‘Oh hey’ they thought, ‘That sounds like Matty. Wow, she sounds unusually concerned…”

Oh, now they felt they were being shaken a bit, poked and prodded by someone’s hand. They didn’t know whose.

Their head felt like it was stuffed full of cotton as they slowly registered more voices in the background.

A voice that was unmistakably Jack’s spoke, saying, “Are they alive?” It was said with a level of heartfelt vulnerability rarely seen in Jack. Emmett felt a bit touched at the sentiment. Even if he always teased them at work about not having any field work experience, he apparently cared.

Then came Mac’s voice. It was a familiar sound, warm and gentle, calm and levelheaded- exactly the kind of friend he’d always been, “Yea, they’re alive, they’re breathing, see, Jack? Just sleeping…”

Riley’s voice was next, assuring a nervous Bozer that Emmett was in fact okay and as of now, seemed to be miraculously unharmed.

Matty’s voice again; she seemed on edge. Emmett didn’t blame her.

“Emmett!”

Emmett suddenly startled awake, or at least, now fully conscious.

Matty breathed an audible sigh of relief at seeing Emmett’s eyes shoot wide open. They were definitely alive.

Bozer was immediately at their side, having pushed his way through the crowd of friends to get there, “Are you okay?”

Emmett glanced about the room, taking it all in. They were back in their own apartment, currently laying on their couch, surrounded by their coworkers, all of whom were looking at Emmett with concern etched into their features.

“...Yea..I’m good.. I think, Bozer, thanks..”

Jack was next to chime in, asking in a concerned tone, “Did Murdoc hurt you? We have a first aid kit here but we just wanted to check if you were alive first, y’know?”

Emmett laughed a little at that and smiled before thinking about Jack’s question for a moment. As they recalled the incident of the hours prior, they realized Murdoc actually didn’t hurt them.. like, at all- sure, he knocked them out with the intravenous drugs, but, Emmett realized, even his administration of the needle was gentle and carefully done in order to cause them the least pain possible. For whatever reason, Murdoc had very intentionally left Emmett virtually completely unharmed.

Emmett’s smile faded to an expression of confusion as they answered, “No… no he didn’t, actually.”

Jack and the rest of the group looked visibly perplexed.

“Yea.. I mean, he drugged me, intravenously, but truth be told, that was the most pleasant experience I’ve ever had with a needle. The thing was thin and he was extremely skilled at poking me without it hurting. I don’t know if that was on purpose or not, but in every other aspect, Murdoc… was actually very civil…”

“Civil? How so?” Riley asked.

Emmett took a deep breath, trying to ground themself before answering, “He.. he just asked me to give him information on Mac-”

MacGyver raised an eyebrow in question.

“Yea- he wanted me to tell him about you, Mac.. but don’t worry, I just said I didn’t know you as well as I thought I did. Told him I’d only known about your real job since you invited me to work at Phoenix.”

Mac furrowed his brow in thought, “And? How did he react?”

“See, this is where it gets extremely weird. He just said, ‘Okay’. So I said, ‘Okay?’ and asked him point blank if he was gonna interrogate or torture me… and he said no.”

The group surrounding Emmett looked even more puzzled, if that was possible. Matty asked, “Emmett, do you think this has anything to do with the fact that you were his assigned psychologist? Is that why he left you unscathed? What exactly did you two discuss while he was in prison?”

Emmett shook their head, “I don’t know, Matty, I would think so? But it doesn’t make sense that he would do any of this? Not only am I a low level agent, not worthy of any ransom-”

Jack cut in again, “Hey, don’t say that about yourself!”

“But there’s also the fact that even if I were a high level target, he should’ve killed me after I left him with no new information. Instead he didn’t even make an attempt at extracting the information from me… it's almost like he just.. Kidnapped me for kicks, or something…”

Matty spoke again. “Then he’s changed his M.O. That much is clear. Emmett, we need you now more than ever. We have got to figure him out and why he’s changed the way he operates. We don’t know what he’s planning now that he’s out. He could kill countless more. We simply don’t know. Emmett, get some rest, but I need you on this ASAP tomorrow.”

Emmett nodded, understanding the urgency of the matter but still exhausted and feeling as though they’d been hit by a truck.

The rest of the group said their goodbyes and expressed their well-wishes to Emmett as they left. Jack even tried to insist on staying over to guard Emmett as they slept. The two settled on having two armed agents do the job instead.

As Emmett laid there, not having moved from their position on the couch, they pondered their experience and wondered what Murdoc was doing now…

———

WOOOO If you’ve gotten this far, Ty and ily/p mwah mwah/p

Previous chapter: https://www.tumblr.com/selfindulgentfandomstuff/757378264425725952/violent-psychopath-abnormal-psychologist

Next chapter: https://www.tumblr.com/selfindulgentfandomstuff/757380820627570688/violent-psychopath-abnormal-psychologist

[donnerpartyofone]

I'm in some kind of abusive cycle with the blog where people submit their dreams. I love hearing people's dreams, so I follow it thinking it's going to be interesting, and then I have to unfollow because it feels like 90% of the posts are about celebrities and fandom shit, then I forget about it for a while until a really cool/funny/scary/weird dream gets reblogged onto my dash, then I follow it again out of some kind of moronic optimism, and pretty soon I remember why I unfollowed it the last time. I'm not sure which possibility is the worst,

a) that for the most part people only submit dreams involving celebrities or fandoms because they assume no one cares about anything else,

b) most of the submissions are made up but nobody has the brain power to invent anything that doesn't involve celebrities or fandoms,

c) actually a large volume of young people's dreams really are about celebrities and fandoms, like a lot of tumblr users just don't even dream about anything else.

Now that I've typed it all out I'm pretty sure (c) is the worst of all possible worlds, but I wouldn't be surprised if it were really true for a lot of people just based on the sort of online behavior I see. There's a reason the "blorbo from my stories" post blew up (and I often wonder if that person regrets it), about how you can post the most random non-human image possible and you'll still have people in your notifications explaining how it somehow represents whatever their main fandom thing is; "fandom" doesn't describe an interest or even a community anymore, its more like this condition of extreme narrowing of perception and cognition down to like one subject, and somehow this is something you're proud of. Seeing people reblog the blorbo post not to co-sign what OP was saying, but to say "Yay this is totally me!!!" with no sense that they're being criticized was really disturbing. There's actually an even worse version of this where somebody broke down the most common (generally sexual) characterizations and scenarios in fan fiction specifically to show how much of this content just perpetuates really ugly stereotypes and bigoted attitudes, but the fandom people got it and reblogged it like "Yay this is totally me!!!" while OP was going...oh my god doesn't anyone understand what I said? There's this kind of scary, culty "FANDOM GOOD" thing that's like so pathological that it actually affects people's reading comprehension and makes them unable to even perceive criticism unless you push things to the extreme and bring nazis or pedophiles or something into it, you have to go so far as to tell someone they're a bad person to break through with them.

Anyway I know this isn't a scientific fact but I agree with the popular notion that dreams are a way of processing experiences and feelings that you're not done chewing on yet. For the most part your dreams should be made up of things, however filtered they are through symbolic language, that are somehow unresolved for you. You shouldn't be closing your eyes at night and just seeing a stream of the exact same pacifying stuff you choose to watch on TV. If that's happening more than once in a great while, you might have given yourself some form of brain damage, and I'm only being slightly sarcastic about that.

(Actually I think it's probably abnormal if you have a lot of wish fulfillment dreams in general; I used to have this friend who turned out to be completely toxic and nuts, and he was always happy to tell me these dreams he had where like he's a cross between Batman and Superman and he punishes everyone who was ever mean to him and then everyone worships him and he becomes the king of the universe or whatever. And I always thought oh my god, why isn't he embarrassed by this, if I had dreams like that about myself where I'm the best person ever and everyone else is either my victim or my slave, I don't think I would repeat it to anyone! But ANYWAY)

I've probably written this post before without even realizing it, which means I have my own problem where I need to disconnect from this thought process. Tumblr used to be a place where you could see weird, cool, interesting stuff that didn't really exist elsewhere, and it was reasonably easy to curate your experience; now the fandom thing is just at such a critical mass that it feels like you're always about one degree of separation from it no matter what you do. When capacity made that post the other day about how you can't even search for any media you're interested in on tumblr because all you get is the fan activity around the thing and not the thing itself (or god forbid your search involves a normal English word that happens to relate to a fandom, then you're really fucked)--when I first saw that post it had almost 8,000 notes and it was only 7 hours old. Whether you're someone who likes it or not, everyone knew what that was about, we are all experiencing it.

I would probably be slightly less bothered if I just let myself think that all the celebrity and fandom posts clogging up that dream blog are mainly just made up, due to whatever compulsion makes people make up inconsequential bullshit on the internet. I remember when FML was a thing, and at first it was kind of fun and kind of like this shared catharsis thing, but pretty quickly it became full of obviously fake stories that were so extreme they weren't even funny, like if someone said those things out loud in your presence you'd just feel sorry for them, that they want attention so bad they'll tell degrading lies about themselves to get it. Actually though the site started to degenerate into basically two kinds of content, which were not necessarily mutually exclusive, but it was always either people telling degrading lies about themselves for attention, or people telling elaborate stories about how they ate all kinds of poisonous garbage and then they shat themselves in public. And for one thing, I don't think it counts as a proper FML if you deliberately did something that was not a good idea and then immediately suffered the most predictable consequences, you know like eating hot cheetoes in gravy and washing it down with a liter of grape soda and then shitting your pants is kinda the same as "I knowingly stepped in front of a speeding car and it hit me and I was badly injured and now I'm in the hospital, fuck my life!", it's not really a surprising misfortune or irony, it's just something you did on purpose because you have no self-control even though only one outcome was possible. But I always had the feeling that the pants-shitters were American, and like obviously America has a problem with junk food, so I started to wonder if everywhere you go here you're just always near at least one person who is one more bad decision away from shitting their pants. Maybe it's true, I dunno, it's starting to seem likely. Maybe we should just change the name of the country to Pantshitsylvania and get it over with, it's probably what we deserve.

[mimibtsghost7]

Fuck you and all your little brain washed rats sending people hate because you cant take responsibility for your actions!! But go on stay silent like you always do, pretend its nothing of your business, keep being a fetishizing racist delulu like you love to be while pretending to be the best blog on tumblr!!!

NOT like anyone will see this but YOU will so LET’S GOOO!!!~~

TW: mental health and more (if you feel like this can trigger you, pls don’t read this, breathe in and out and listen to this HERE and remember I love you), loads of tea and Mimi NOT being a friendly and kind ghost. 

funny enough: 

I never pretended of said I was the best blog. But I guess the fact that you say it might be because you heard it frequently? Thanks for thinking so^^

I sent hate to no one and u r the one sending it to me rn ^^ In my whole 4 year journey on Tumblr I received a lot of love but also worse hate that you can imagine. Yes you are saying now you are receiving hate ... funny how it’s bad when It’s addressed to you but when it’s at me and my dear followers it is not. Still, I never told anyone to go hate on you. You were the idiot that tagged my old blog and as soon as my blog was gone pple searched me and found out you were the reason behind this. But as you keep hating on me. Let me tell you I am kind but don’t mistake that for me being a coward.

I am not into insulting others and I don’t care much if you insult me. BUT don’t YOU DARE touch my dear followers. Insulting ain’t hard. Let me try: The only rat here is you hiding in your hole as an anon. I went and compared your writing with this ask and previous hate asks. And it was you~ Good for you~ the sewers smell just like your filthy mouth spilling sh*t left and right. So on brand. However, I know who you are @hobisbeautifulass Hi ^^

Me racist? HAHAHAHAH you truly know NOTHING about me nor my ex-blog’s message. It was a place when you were welcomed no matter your skin color, religion, gender ... proof? well it got deleted thanks to you. but ask around this time and search for who reblogged my posts as they were always the top of the tags (even if I don’t trust how bad you are at research). I supported the BLM movement and still do and will always do but I did so veeery early without anyone telling me. Not for the notes but because of my humanity. I wished my dear followers’ happy holidays no matter their religions. And never cared about those things. Why judge someone on something based on religion or how they were born. As for the LGBTQ+ community, I was always and will always be there for love being love. I talked about mental health and opened venting nights. I helped left and right and when I was receiving hate because of people like you spitting lies about me. What did I do? Did I go online and called people bad? No. I looked back at myself and asked myself if I did anything wrong. I tried to educate myself and apologized sincerely when I had to. I read books and watched documentaries to learn how to become a better human. AND never repeated a mistake twice. You tend to forget that our cultures are different and sometimes you grow up to see some things as normal when they are not. This is not an excuse tho, so I always believed that I was lacking and if someone had something to say against me, there is a chance they are right and just in case I should reflect on myself. But for your case it was pure nonsense. ME? a stalker? how can I stalk when I have social anxiety and at that time couldn’t even leave my room? I am even afraid of taking public transportations and just the other days I was crying from joy when I took a taxi alone. they said I was in Japan stalking Jimin and Jungkook and took a pic when I was NEVER EVER was on that land. You put me on the same list as people who bought info about BTS’ flights to be on the same plane as them? I was stalked before and let me tell you it ain’t cute and fun. I am even scared of the idea of being followed. that’s why I never shared openly my age, country, or anything about me on my blog. that’s why I have no personal social media to this day and that’s why making my ex-blog was some sort of miracle in my life. 

Silent? yes I was silent when I received hate and didn’t even vent to my dear followers or pointed fingers. Why? because I thought as my day was hell I shouldn’t make anyone’s day worse. I was worried about my dear followers with mental illnesses being triggered. I tried to take my life so many times I lost count but I still came here and smiled. It was my safe place and you took it away. Yet, I should pity you? You hated on me first for no reason and you know it deep inside but right now you are trying to convince yourself that you are the angel and feel no guilt. Compared to you. I pointed fingers at no one and didn’t name you when my blog was gone. Why? because compared to you, I thought you will not be able to manage the hate and what was done .. I didn’t want you to suffer the same way I did when you are the one who made me suffer the most the past couple of days. But the kind Mimi is someone you will never remember because you dared touch the friends I love and calling them names. I don’t mind people insulting me but don’t you dare touch my people. I know myself best. My dear friends/followers know me best. I thought ... I could leave without this mess but you keep barking in my ask box and it’s annoying. I left this backup account just to talk to my friends and yet you are here to ruin things again? I should stop being kind to the ones who deserve non of it. I ignored you when I had so many followers and you went silent too because you were scared of me. But as soon as I lost my blog because of you, you went, edited and then reblogged that stalker post. How can I be a stalker? do you even know the definition of a stalker? do you even know shame? well .. I don’t think so.. you said it yourself. You are NOT ashamed (and you reblogged that so many time lol). 

Death threats? this is no competition but thanks to people like you I have been there and wish no one to be there not even you. The only difference is that you almost killed me for real. You were not the sole reason? Great job walking away from you beloved word: RESPONSIBILITY. And I didn’t get just anon hate, I got literal tagging by people like you, DMs, and people pointing guns at me. That’s why I didn’t mention you. I was worried about the one who took away what I worked for for 4 YEARS. I was more sad and concerned about the ARMY fandom here. Do you know how many rely on my updates? do you know how many people said I helped them? do you know any of that? do you think 200k people were “rats”? Do you think if I did and say wrong thing I will not be questioned by those people. I always told my dear followers: “friends, if I do or say anything wrong or share anything that hurts anyone please tell me. I am willing to learn from everyone.” But what did you know? what did you do? Well ..  guess you love notes? As the most notes you ever got and the most attention was when talking about me? 

Love how you talk about fetishing when my blog was what people call “family friendly”. I also like BTS. I love them for their music, talent, personalities and the happiness they give me. I also enjoy BTS’ bond and love their interactions. I posted content of all kinds of interactions JM X JK, JK X V, V X JIN, JIN X SG, SG X JH, JH X RM, RM X JM ... If you are calling this fetishing asian men just because I scream over BTS as a fan and love their bonb. Then aren’t you against the idea of being an ARMY? I was a clear OT7 and you were told that you weren’t right: 

 Then you answered this without even explaining the nonsense about me: 

idk .. I am trying to find sense in your nonsense so .. wait wait let me look at the definition of fetishism first. 

Fetishism /ˈfɛtɪʃɪz(ə)m/ noun: a form of sexual behavior in which gratification is linked to an abnormal degree to a particular object, activity, part of the body, etc.

Then .. judging from your URL alone hmmm ... cute. I won’t even talk about the SMUT you write that is full of kinks and fetishism. Well I have no problem with fan fiction but the irony you spit is out of this world.

Also, I made money out of mimibtsghost? HAHAHAHHAHAHAHAH no lil one. I worked day and night for FREE. At some point when BT21 just came out and there were no products on AMAZON or anywhere but S.Korea, someone reached out to me to offer 20% off or something for my dear followers. When they asked what I wanted I said what about international giveaways for my dear followers. Basically, made gifs, found content, updates, analysis, edits, and so on for free. Again, w-wait .. Aren’t you the one asking for commissions? Well .. It’s not wrong. But again THE irony. 

So, I went to see that post you made about me with “PROOF” and it was just another person who was salty as I got them blocked I can’t even recall who they were but oh well. Their arguments according to YOU and many should be taken as FACTS just because they said them?  You said HERE that your first comeback was MOST:7 that came in just last year (2020) SO what the hell do YOU know about what happened years before you came when all the proof you pointed at where baseless without any backing?

Let’s see this so wise person you used to delete my blog and what I have done ^^

The gifs: There is a story to this. The first week I came to Tumblr, It was my first time on this site and the first time I share anything. I shared some content and my analysis had a lot of notes for a small creator that started just a week ago. But I made a mistake, I found a gif and posted it while crediting the gif maker. At the time I had NO idea it was wrong. I logged off and after 5 hours I log in and there was a WAR for that ONE gif. The big blog had me blocked and her friend was telling me to take it off. As soon as the person told me I did IMMEDIATELY and apologized againa and again and told them to tell the original gif maker to deblock me as I want to apologize directly and that they can block me after that. They did and I apologized but they just kept insulting me. Of course it was MY mistake and that’s why I apologized. But for them. for a mere gif (yes I say a mere gif because I made so many gifs and they were used on all platforms but I never thought it was necessary to hate that much on someone like they did to me). That blog was big and had big blog mutuals. Thanks to that, I became someone you do NOT become mutuals with but block and never reblog content from. Without any big mutuals. Without any shoutouts. Only my love for BTS, my dear followers’ support and my hard work.. My blog, became bigger and FAST (I got 10k in less than 6 months after I started) and that brought loads of jealousy and thus more rumors. Even if, I apologized and since then made my own gifs. And I made SO many gifsets that I can’t remember how many there were. What I can recall is at some point I made them daily and many times a day.

Ships Jikook? I posted content of ALL the members interactions. I was here at a time where Jikook stans and Taekook stans where always fighting. BUT I posted about both and even made so many posts to encourage loving all the members and all the interactions. I also used the tags solely used for shipping with other big tags to show that BTS’ interactions are all important and their bond is beutiful. That our fandom shouldn’t hate on a member just because they are not part of a ship we like. And wait .. even if I shipped Jikook? I got called ALL those names by someone who ship the members with readers and write sexual scenes? Like, wait ... I am truly confused. Like, write fanfic and do all you want as long as you hurt no one I guess but why am I getting hurt for doing non of it? Like according to you, the person you should be cancelling is yourself?! I am also not into cancel culture like you so hahah whatever.

Posted stalker pics: well wow the story changes each time. Next thing you will hear that I was the one holding a camera for a member in a Vlive lol. Let me teach you about this update thing I was doing. I follow accounts I trust and that’s how we get info circulating fast. I always do reasearch but sometimes mistakes are made. For example when lately people shared pictures of BTS leaving their virtual concerts and schedules. There was a watermark of a news outlet. Normally we trust those but only later we realized that those people stalked BTS. You clearly can’t know it all. But I still didn’t share many pics related to many events (I will not name those as pple can search them even now because some pple never deleted those). And all big accounts shared many pics then deleted later. This happens all the time but it happened like ONCE for me. However, I am called a stalker for that? 

When Jonghyun passed away ... I don’t even wanna recall that night as the memories just ... when that happened I posted about it and send my condolescences. that post had over 10k notes and was at the top the tag. Why did I do that? I was devastated. Yes, many were but I will talk about me rn: I was suicidal the days before that and one of the songs that I listened to when I was broken where by him. I has been in the kpop world since 2006. And learned about his group since their debut with ‘Replay’. I was never a stan but I still knew of many groups and listened to all the songs I liked. I was very sad when he was gone and ANGRY mostly. Why is this angel leaving? Why is someone like me still here? Why did I not leave instead of him? How much did he suffer? And in the midst I posted a post from twitter that stated how agencies usually put down pple with mental illiness and hide it in the industry. Yes, that was important but NOT at that time. I shouldn’t have posted that and I realized after 5 min of doing so that it was WRONG. So I deleted it FAST but it kept being reblogged and I kept getting hate and people telling me: “Go kill yourself”... the sad part is that I almost did as my answer was “true ... why am I still here?” I apologized and logged off then to this day won’t forget crying at 3 AM while walking outside next to my dad. I was outside as I couldn’t breathe anymore and the idea of seeing the walls of my room was hell. I cried and cried and the teary eyes that my father looked at me with are something I am ashamed of to this day. To add one more thing while I am spilling the beans. I hate learning about someone dying. My grandma passed away sometime before that and it was so shocking to me. and some people came and told me when I was mourning her: Go follow that bitch of grandmother of yours. And for what? At that moment I didn’t think I would live to see the next year but I went to therapy and took medecine that was hurting and made me shake all day just to turn somewhat sane. No one knew tho ... I smiled all day and cried all night.. Even on the blog I fought no one of the ones who hated me. I just blocked them but even that was an insult to them?

Again, you said no one should defend me. Yet, you were ready to fight whoever touched anyone around you. What about changing your URL to beautifulassirony

Also THE hypocrisy. If you are sorry then why are you answering an ask of someone isulting someone you want to apologize to? Just make a post wher you apologize or ignore it from the start?

One more thing but surely not the last. You said you were good with research which you are NOT. So, let me show you what an OG detective ARMY can do. But first, as I was scrolling I saw some of your “work” (let’s not even talk about those gifs) and I am just giving my point of view here: I hate how you painted Namjoon as this horny-idiotic-make-dog. Like I get it it’s a fanfic or Namjoon as a dad but ... Namjoon is such a smart man who is very respectful and ofc he is a human with needs like many but what the hell is this way of portraying a character? Also a character is not cool, amazing, and a strong woman just because they curse and belittle their partner. 

Oh well, only you kept reblogging that as it show 36 reblogs when only 33 as still there when I looked and out of those 13 reblogs are yours? (you might have reblogged it more) but again some people might have liked ... people have different taste ... so ... whatever. 

Let’s continue, shall we ^^. You said you were the victim here when I was the one getting robbed right? How can I believe someone who reblogged the post below and was proud calling themselves an abomination or how the Oxford dictionary defines it:  a thing that causes disgust or loathing. For once you weren’t wrong.

What can you expect from someone who has the “I am not like others” kinda mentality while stating relatable things that everyone goes through?

This is getting pretty long. So to sum this up. You are now telling others that hate is NOt ok and that they should be ashamed of themselves when you yourself is not ashamed of hating on me?

I am not the type that sends anon hate. I might ignore some barking but the past days you came and bite me hard. I face the ones I have to face without fear. I know I am not the bad guy here and I don’t care much what you think about me. Even BTS got haters. This says a lot. BUT do NOT dare talk badely of my dear friends/followers. You said you do research well? Start by deleting the post below that was originally by ME from your blog ... oh how meticulous you are. From your baseless receipts to your twisted logic. Indeed people on the internet can say anything and it will be FACTS. You painted me as the devil and painted yourself as this researcher? What’s next you receiving a Phd in ‘pity me’ after your MBA in lies and irony? Whatever~ 

Whaaatever~ Karma will have upcoming talks with you. No need for you to apologize. I never cared about you and you only got attention using me. But I am not here anymore how will you get that blog running now? Are you gonna add me in a fanfic next? No need for you to send me my appearance fee when you do so~ And no need for you to apologize to me just apologize to you conscience if you have any left.  As for me @hobisbeautifulass​ you are just someone I will forget soon anyway~~ 

And because according to what you said HERE when you described the things you hate about people and I thought that was VERY close to how you treated me. Thus, you might really not stand yourself rn.

Do.Not.Worry. BTS are starting the Love Myself campaign again and just in time for you to jump in (you are good at jumping to conclusions about me so I won’t worry about you). I know you don’t like me or my friends but be sure to love yourself at least ^^ 

You are a Hobi stan? Then learn from Hobi to share some sunshine not bring the storm. Have a good day~

[nadisabug]

Anything You Want

Pairing: Tsukishima Kei x reader

Warnings: reader is kinda depressed, idk she convinces herself that no one (Kei) could like her, so warning for that, no spoilers though, ooc Tsukki, I am so sorry this was a one am fever dream im sor-

Summary: As old childhood friends of Yamaguchi and Tsukishima, it doesn’t make sense why Tsukishima and you fight so much.

A/N: Ahh I’m so sorry I woke up out of a cold sweat to write this whole thing in one sitting at one am im just ��love💙 him!! Also!!! I hit 150 followers!! So excited!!! I love you all so much!! Thank you!!!!! (ps requests are open pls send some in)

Haikyuu!! Masterlist

"Kiss me Kei!"

"What? Tch, no that's gross."

"But I'm the mommy!"

"So?"

"You're the daddy! You gotta!"

"I don't even wanna play this dumb game."

"It's not dumb! Pleeaaasseee Kei-chan! For me?"

"Fine, come here."

The slap of the ball hitting the gym floor startled me out of my daydream. My eyes snapped up quickly to the game before me. Did we score? It took me a minute to even register what was going on and who I was looking at. I looked to the referee on his stepladder, waiting for him to call the point.

The whistle blew. He raised his arm. Boys in black and orange jerseys shouted. I clapped and cheered.

It all felt so robotic. But then I looked at him. Then the world shifted into slow motion and began to flow more naturally.

He raised his arm to wipe the sweat off of his brow, the movement mesmerizing. Even the jerk of his body when a teammate patted him on the back seemed graceful. Elegant. He pushed his glasses up a bit and glared at the offender. He turned to say-

"Y/n?" Once again I was startled from my thoughts. My head snapped to the right side where Yachi was standing next to me. She had a concerned look on her face. I swallowed, my dry mouth only producing a lump in my throat. "You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," I responded quickly and looked back to the game. "Just focusing is all." This time I fought not to look at the boy. I didn't want to look at him anyway. I didn't. I didn't.

Finding my eyes drifting back to him, I launched into conversation to pull my mind from him.

"How's the girls team going?"

I was on the girls volleyball team as a first year. I only made the team because I was the only libero and, being honest, I was the best at receiving. I was abnormally short, so I knew I couldn't pull off many other positions.

Well, maybe I could.

I watched as the short, orange haired boy flew across the court and landed an impossible to receive spike. I still wasn't used to that combo no matter how many games I watched. Then again, I only had reflexes, not the raw power that that boy had.

I sighed and tore my eyes from the game to look at Yachi. I slumped onto the railing a plopped my head in my hands. "We need more practice games, honestly. The way we're going we're not going to win our match."

"Don't say that Y/n!" Yachi cried.

I shrugged and looked back at the game. My eyes found blonde hair naturally. "Its true. The girls don't practice enough. I think getting our asses completely handed to us will turn the team around. I just feel bad for the third years who will suffer from it."

Yachi didn't have a response to that. She changed the subject quickly and we chatted until the game ended, the whole time I focused on the freakish number ten instead of the boy I knew deep down in my heart I really wanted to watch.

"Nice net drop, broccoli brain," I smirked and clapped my best friend on the shoulder.

His shoulders slumped and he sighed. "I didn't even mean to do it," he bereaved.

"Fucking who cares?" I snorted. "Got us a fat point and they never saw it coming. Just remember how it felt and do it again."

"Y/n," Yama whined and tried to shake me off.

"Y/n giving you crap again?" A rich voice came from behind me, sending shivers down my spine. "That's rich coming from Pipsqueak."

"Says Mr-cant-block-for-shit," I shot back, turning around so that I could stick my tongue out at him.

"I'd like to see you try to pick up a real serve, not that-"

"Hey, hey, cut it out!" Yama stepped in between us, putting a warning hand on us both. "We're all friends."

I glared at Tsukishima but backed down. I didn't want to upset Yamaguchi. I knew how much he hated it when we fought, seeing as it was his two best friends.

I had known Yama since elementary school, when I saved him from some bullies. One day when we were clearly out matched, Tsukishima saved us in his aloof, roundabout way. From then on we were inseparable.

That is until the second year of middle school when Tsukishima and I started fighting all the time. Despite that, we still hung out together. Who knows why he put up with my constant antagonism, but he always reciprocated and never complained.

We got on the bus soon after the game, headed to the school. I was on the girls bus, them on the boys. When we got back to the school we met up again.

When we came to the usual splitting point, Yama spoke up.

"So I'll walk Y/n home," Yama offered like always. I was about to accept when Tsukishima spoke up.

"Nah, I'll do it." Yama cocked an eyebrow. "It's out of your way, Yamaguchi. She lives closer to me."

We all knew this, but the point had never come up before.

"Okay," Yama said warily. "Are you sure you don't want me to come anyways?"

"Tch, we're fine, I don't need a babysitter." Tsukishima rolled his eyes.

"Okay," Yama shrugged. He took a few steps backwards before he said goodbye and started off in the opposite direction.

Tsukishima wordlessly took off in the direction of our houses, so I followed. I was wondering why he suddenly offered to walk me home, but he offered no clues as to why. He used to walk me home before we always fought, but after that he stopped. This was the first time he walked me home in years.

So we walked in complete silence.

When we reached my house, we stood there awkwardly for a moment, looking at it. I wasn't sure what to say, but before I could figure it out, he spoke.

"Why do you hate me?"

I was startled by both the question and the sudden shattering of silence. I turned to look at Tsukishima. He wasn't looking at me, just straight ahead. I tried to read his facial expression, but like always, it was stone cold.

"I don't?" I answered uneasily.

Tsukishima sighed. "Yes you do, you always act so pissy towards me. You even tense up when I'm near."

"I do not," I frowned. I tried to think if I have ever done anything like that, but I drew blank.

"Yes you do," Tsukishima sighed again, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes. "We..." He paused. He brought he other hand up and rubbed his eyes, pressing his two fingers into his eye sockets. After a moment he threw his hand down, clearly having made up his mind, and turned to look at me. I felt hot under his intent gaze, his eyes searching mine for an answer I was afraid I didn't have. "We used to be close when we were little. What changed."

It wasn't a question. It was more of a statement. It was like he meant to say something different.

So I said it for him.

"We changed."

He scoffed, his face twisting into his signature cynical look. "Bullshit."

"No, that's the answer. Maybe you're not asking the right question," I shot back, confidence fueled by his venom.

He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it soon after. His brows furrowed and his lips pressed together. It was more emotion than he was exhibiting earlier, and for some weird reason, it made something in me happy.

"Why are you so mad at me?" He finally asked, face relaxing a bit. He seemed genuinely curious as to the answer.

His sincerity almost made me explode with anger. How could he not know? He was the most insufferable person in the entire world, what wouldn't I be mad about.

But then again, that was wrong. He never mad me mad with his snide comments and dirty looks. It was all in play and it never really bothered me, ever since we were kids, and he knew that too. So I couldn't lie and say it was his personality because I loved his personality. It was something else. Something I was afraid of admitting.

I grit my teeth. What did it matter if I said it or not? It's not like he'd understand anyway.

Once I made up my mind I met his eyes.

"Because you will never give me what I want."

"And what is that?" His voice was soft, wispy, breathless. Afraid.

Your love.

I couldn't say it. Bile rose in my throat and tears prickled at my eyes. I opened my mouth but quickly shut it. I wouldn't say it. I was too afraid.  My eyes fell to the ground, and with them, all my confidence.

All at once my mind began to barrage me. He will never love you, he could never love someone like you. He-

He laughed.

He fucking laughed.

My mind was thrown to a complete and total standstill by the absurdity of it. I looked back up at him with watery eyes in confusion.

"I thought you were smarter than that," he grinned, one corner of his mouth charmingly quirked upwards. "Than to decide what I think."

"What?" I mumbled nearly incoherently.

"We both know if you ask I'll do anything for you, so quit your crying, Pipsqueak."

I opened my mouth, completely surprised by his confession. He'd do anything for me? That couldn't be right...

But the more I thought about it the more I realized it was true. He had always done everything for me. Whenever I needed him he was there. It was me that started the fighting, all because I let my mind tell me that he could never love me, that he never would.

I met his eyes once again, this time brimming with happiness.

"Kiss me, Kei."

"Fine," he dramatically sighed, hiding a small grin. "Come here."

And he did.

Taglist:

Taglists are open! Shoot me an ask or a dm with what fandom you want to be tagged in and I’ll do it right away! :)

[awackyphdinadorkable]

Cherik Moodboard - The Snow Queen AU

Charles and Erik were the best of friends ever since they were small children. They didn’t just grow up together, but they also learned to master their special abilities together. Erik and his mother live in a small house just down the road, so Edie does not have to travel far to manage the gardens and all the flowers at Westchester.

These days, Erik helps his mother as best as he can, which, of course, always gives plenty of opportunity for him to spend time with his best friend to play chess or get drunk on Charles’s late step-father’s fine selection of drinks.

Now short before coming of age, Charles can finally claim ownership over his family’s estate and transform it into a school for the likes of them. Their dream is just within reach. A place for themselves, where others can hone their skills, unafraid of what others may think of them.

But a tragic accident during winter leads to Edie’s death, which leaves Erik petrified. Charles tries his best to console his friend, but even with his abilities, he doesn’t know how to help Erik look towards a brighter future to regain hope. Instead, Erik grows more and more obsessed with snowflakes and old stories.

After a night of heavy drinking to numb the pain together, Erik sneaks out into the night while Charles is fast asleep. Erik is visited by a beautiful woman made of ice, just like in his mother’s tales. The Snow Queen. She offers him a life of no pain, no suffering. Erik feels more than tempted to go with her, but when he hears Charles calling out to him, the Queen is already gone by the time he turns back around.

Wind picks up and something flies into his eyes, making his eyes burn with unshed tears. Charles ushers Erik back inside, and for the first time in a long time, Erik swats his friend’s hand away, arguing that he has no need for help.

In the days to come, Erik grows more and more irritated with Charles and his constant talk about the school, the dream. Was it ever truly his dream or was he just trying to please Charles? Erik is no longer sure. What if Charles went too far into his head to plant that seed there? What if he was a fool to ever trust him? People don’t accept them now, why would they ever change their mind? They are all the same in the end, aren’t they?

But whenever he addresses those matters to Charles, he just feels his heart clench with cold, seeing the other man’s sadness and disappointment. Most of these days, Erik wished Charles just left him alone, that everyone just left him alone so he could watch the snowflakes. When Erik goes to see his mother’s grave, he is visited by the Snow Queen again. She kisses him and he doesn't feel the cold anymore. The Queen offers to kiss him another time, to forget all this, all the people who’ve caused him suffering.

“And then everything will be in order again. Like snowflakes.”

Erik agrees and she kisses him another time. And just like that, his mother fades from his mind, Charles does. There is just endless white and the Queen guiding him to a sled of ice taking him away from a world that won’t ever accept him.

When Charles realizes that Erik is gone, he is desperate to find him. But no matter how far he reaches with his mind, he can’t detect him. Charles is in despair. His best friend is somewhere out there, and he can’t get to him. He can’t help him. Just what is he supposed to do?

In the nights that follow, Charles continues to be plagued by nightmares. Strange visions of a broken mirror dipped in blood. A castle made of ice. And inside it he sees Erik bowing to a woman wearing a crown made of ice. At first, he thinks this is just his mind playing tricks on him, the way it was when he didn’t yet know of his abilities and thought he was going mad.

Until Erik helped him see that he was, in fact, not mad. That the voices inside his head weren’t his own but of those around him.

When Charles passes by a river, thinking back to how they used to bathe in it as children, the images come back to him, like lightning striking in his head. Charles collapses into a wooden boat and blacks out, though the boat, without anyone’s doing sets sail. By the time he awakens, Charles finds himself far away from home in a boat sailing on its own accord.

Before he can sink into despair, he can feel the faintest of brushes of a familiar mind against his. Erik. He is closer to Erik now. He can feel him, however faint, but he can feel him. He isn’t dead. He is out there. And that means there is still hope.

The boat eventually finds its landing place in a faraway place Charles wouldn’t know how to find on a map, if he even had one with him. He wanders through the woods aimlessly until he stumbles upon a house guarded by a blue beast. Though Charles can tell at once that the beast is also a man, is someone like him and Erik.

As it turns out, Hank and Raven have taken refuge in this cottage after an experiment of his gone wrong. He worked on a way to rid himself of the abnormal appearance of his feet, only to amplify the effect and turn into a beast whenever angered or in danger. Raven possesses similar powers, able to change appearance at will. The two have since lost hope in humankind to ever accept them. They have also heard of the Snow Queen who seemingly wants to rally against humans.

Raven offers Charles to stay with them, but he kindly refuses. He has to find Erik, he has to bring him back home. Hank offers to accompany him, but Charles also refuses that offer, because he knows that finding Erik is his responsibility alone.

“But you will always be welcome in my home, as you welcomed me into yours. Together, we may be able to change the face of the world, not today, not tomorrow, but so long we haven’t given up, the chance is still there that the day will come.”

Better equipped for the cold awaiting him further up north thanks to Raven and Hank, Charles continues his quest to the castle made of ice. He lets himself be guided by the fragments of memories the Queen could not take away from Erik even with her second kiss. Because even if she stripped Erik of his memories, he is still there. Charles can still sense his light, and that will guide him to his best friend, no doubt.

But when he reaches the place he can feel Erik’s mind the strongest, he finds nothing but a frozen lake. No castle. Nothing except for ice and snow. Exhausted and discouraged, he collapses onto the ice, calling out to Erik, though he knows he can’t hear him.

Or can he?

When he opens his eyes again, Charles finds himself near a warm hearth inside a small cabin. A grumpy man greets him, putting on more wood for the fire. The man’s name is Logan, and for some strange reason, he seems to know Charles, even though Charles doesn’t know him. Even stranger so, he can’t sense the man’s mind, although he is sitting right next to him.

“That was by your own design.”

“I didn’t ever meet you.”

“Not in this world, but in the world I came from.”

“Another world?”

“You can read minds, and made it all this way to here alive. Don’t act as though this was the strangest thing you’ve heard or seen thus far.”

Logan begins to recall his time “on the other side of the mirror”. The Snow Queen with the aid of the mirror image of Erik, nearly succeeded in destroying all good in their world by completing a mirror that had burst into a billion pieces.

“The devil’s work if you asked me. But no one knows who’s made the mirror. I just know what it did to my friends. It made them angry, sad, cold. Until they saw no good in the world anymore and fell into despair. A world without hope… is really without hope. You were right about that all along.”

In a last effort to save their world, Charles with the aid of his pupils and Logan set out to fight the Snow Queen, a woman with special abilities much like Charles’s. But with Erik’s aid of completing the frame to hold the mirror in its place, their efforts were near in vain.

“I watched my friends turn to snow. I watched them fade away. Kitty and you came up with a way for me to cross the threshold to the other world, this world here. I heal fast.  I don’t get killed… so I took a shard of the mirror with me.”

He shows a scar on his abdomen. “The Snow Queen wants to complete the mirror in this world because she can’t complete it in the other. Because I have the last piece. You managed to hide me from her eyes. Only if I were to face her would she recognize me.”

“But she can complete the mirror in this world, if Erik sets the frame.”

“Yes, because the other me, the one belonging to this world… he is asleep, if you will, out of reach. And even if not, the moment I faced her and tried to break the mirror like I did last time… it would mean the end of all good in this world. I no longer have the claws to cut it. I had to leave those, too.”

“So there is no hope?”

“There is always hope. At least so long you don’t give up. If unleash your mind, if you let your abilities out, which I know you’ve learned to keep in check over the years, you will possess a power even greater than hers. You are the only hope we’ve got left. So you better make this work, or else I will be very angry with you.”

“But I can’t even find the castle.”

“Because you’ve only looked at it from one side.”

It is then that Charles understands what he has to do. He goes back to the frozen lake and cuts a hole into the ice. He dives into the dark waters below, and once again lets himself be guided by the faint light at the end of it, Erik.

When he lifts his head above the water again, he finds himself in the Snow Queen’s castle. Charles knows now that he has to do whatever it takes not just to save Erik, but everyone else who dares to put hope in him. Even if that means going to the edge of the world and further still. But will he succeed? Or will eternal winter be the end of all hope?

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

Author’s Note: Here’s my little Christmas gift to a fandom that is also very much a gift. Happy holidays and much love!

[themandylion]

Fandom: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Red Robin (Comics) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Tim Drake, Prudence Wood, Bruce Wayne Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence Summary: When Jack Drake died, Tim appended a Wayne to his name, moved into the manor, and no one there had any reason whatsoever to examine his family tree.

—

The first time Tim did it on purpose was while he was still following Batman and Robin. He'd gotten some really excellent shots of Robin silhouetted against a rare clear patch of sky and his mind wasn't on his surroundings. When he turned to go, he found the mouth of the alley blocked by a group of thugs, more than eager to relieve him of his fancy camera.

They were all bigger than him, and armed to boot. There was no point in trying to fight or cry for help. He was cornered, they all knew it, so Tim did what his dad always told him to do if he ever found himself in a situation like that.

He screamed.

Tim didn't stick around to see the fallout, after. Just ran home and hid under the covers on his bed and waited for morning, his heart pounding his chest. It was scary and exhilarating at the same time, something he both did and didn't want to do ever again. In the moment, he swore to himself he was done following heroes, that he'd never do it again.

He was out again a fortnight later, though he now carried a collapsible baton with him, just in case.

—

Batman didn't want metas in Gotham, didn't think them fair or sporting. He liked things he could measure, could understand, could predict all the outcomes of.

Tim respected that and, even more importantly, respected Batman. Once he was Robin, he used his hands, his legs, his feet, his mind, his staff—sometimes all of them together. The only time he used his voice was to cajole or taunt or query.

He didn't scream, even when he wanted to. Batman wouldn't like it, wouldn't want a Robin who could do that, and Tim—

Tim needed Robin maybe just as much as Batman did, sometimes.

—

When Jack Drake died, Tim picked the lock on his father's safe and replaced the will there with a carefully altered one. He didn't think he was really ready to be Bruce Wayne's son, but he also wasn't ready to stop being Robin, and there were things that would need adjusting if he wanted that to happen.

He was pretty sure his cousin would understand. After all, she'd seen Bruce at the funeral, had shared a long, meaningful look with Tim before ducking out early.

Less than a month later, Tim appended a Wayne to his name, moved into the manor, and no one there had any reason whatsoever to examine his family tree.

—

The second time Tim did it on purpose, it was too late to worry about losing Robin, maybe even too late to worry about upsetting Bruce. He didn't have a name anymore, at least not one beyond 'Tim Drake-Wayne,' and he wasn't sure if he even had all of that, now.

What he did have was another thug, another tight situation. No escape, no one to call for help. But he wasn't Robin and he wasn't in Gotham, so Batman's rules didn't apply. And besides all that, it wasn't just his own life on the line this time.

Widower's blades flashed, Z and Owens fell, and Tim screamed.

Riding back to the hotel, after, he glanced at Pru in the passenger seat. She was clutching her side, the wound she received before she could take out the stunned assassin still oozing a slow trickle of blood.

"I'd appreciate it," he said, "if you didn't mention what happened back there to anyone." He didn't say that he meant to Ra's, but then he didn't really think he needed to.

"Don't know why you use that bloody stick with a voice like that," she grumbled.

"Batman doesn't like his people to have anything… abnormal about them."

She snorted and shook her head. "If I was working for someone who didn't appreciate my natural talents for what they are, I'd find a new boss."

"Yeah? And how's that working out for you?" he asked, thinking of her partners they left in cave miles behind them, victims of a battle they didn't even know they were fighting. He wondered if Ra's even knew any of their names, or if they were all just faceless, disposable lackies to him.

"Found you, didn't I?"

—

They found Lucius's youngest daughter in the hotel room when they arrived, there at her father's request to drag Tim back to Gotham. She was obviously completely ignorant of just what the Wayne family got up to after hours, despite her father being all too aware.

He and Pru passed her back and forth as they battled the ninja Ra's sent swarming into the room, and while Tam Fox was far from unskilled, it was all too clear that she was way over her head. With people like Lucius to look up to, it was no wonder Bruce's parenting tactics were far from optimal.

It was enough to make a guy think.

—

"Hey, it's me. I know it's been a while, but I was wondering—is your offer still open? I've got some stuff to take care of in Gotham, but after that… I think I'm ready."

—

They didn't manage to leave Ra's al Ghul behind.

Tim found himself cornered in an office. A window at his back, a sword-wielding psychopath coming at him and—

He was back in Gotham, but no longer Robin. He wasn't sure if he was even part of Batman's brood anymore, if he even wanted to be.

Thoughts were whizzing through his mind and there were things he wanted, things he wished for—

But wishes never got anyone anywhere, and Bruce wasn't back quite yet. Not to mention the man currently running around the city as Batman had slightly different priorities than his predecessor.

Ra's was coming at him, he had to make a split-second decision, and while he might have chosen differently just a few short months ago, he knew what he had to do now.

Tim screamed.

—

Bruce came back.

—

Bruce came back, completely ignorant of everything Tim went through in order to make it happen. He came back and right away started asking for more—more work, more lies, more time. More years of Tim's life.

"I don't know if I'm ready to be back for good just yet. There are some things I need to see to, and it would be easier to do that while I'm not exactly back yet, officially." Bruce said it like it was the most logical thing ever.

It wasn't. It didn't make sense at all. Between Hush pretending to be him out of the mask and Dick continuing his legacy in it, it wasn't like Bruce had ever actually been gone. Except to the people that mattered most. To his friends and colleagues. His family.

"You do you," Tim said, pulling off Red Robin's cowl and handing it to him. "But you'll have to do it without me."

"What?"

"I realized some things, while you were gone," Tim explained as he began pulling off the rest of the suit. "Things about myself. Things about you."

"You're quitting?"

"Yes. No. Maybe?" Tim shrugged as he pulled off the last piece, then began replacing it all with regular, comfortable clothes. His clothes. "All this time I followed your rules, thinking that made me something stronger, something better. Took you being gone for me to realize that all it was really doing was holding me back."

"Tim… I don't understand."

"There comes a time when every bird has to fly free of the nest and find its own song." Tim slipped on his shoes, picked up his pack. "I'll see you around, Bruce."

—

Dinah met him at the manor gates with a fast bike and an extra helmet.

This time, he didn't look back.

[bush-viper-cutie]

“Explaining It All” || YEAR 3 – Ch.36 (HP au)

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Day posted: 12/22/2020

Word count: 3, 517

Relationship: EVENTUAL severus X oc (slow burn)

Rating: E for everyone

Warnings: none

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A/N: This is my first fan fic I’m writing mainly as a way to practice. This is a retelling of the hp books with an inserted character. Although most every character will be written about, this is mostly for the pro snape fandom. Please do not fear, although this is a severus x oc story, it is an incredibly slow burn as I do not intend for them to get together at all until after the final book events. Chapters will be posted twice a week.

This derivative work follows the events of the Harry Potter books by Jk Rowling and is intended as a fun way to practice my writing. Thank you for reading :D

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The shack groaned and creaked, filling the heavy silence until Lupin, who looked incredibly calm for someone who was just outed as a creature even the Ministry considered highly dangerous, chuckled awkwardly. As if Heather had simply told an embarrassing story of him.

He looked at Hermione and Heather with a small smile. “I was always worried about the two of you, though I suspected you’ve known for some time… I am a werewolf… I won’t deny that. But I have not been helping Sirius get into the castle and none of us want Harry, or you, Heather, dead – I promise you that.”

Ron, who’d dragged himself to the farthest post of the bed, pulled himself up, almost feinting from the throbbing pain of his leg. He winced but did not take his eyes off Lupin.

Lupin’s eyebrows drew with concern as he took a step closer to them, mistaking the silence for calm.

“Get away from us, werewolf!” Ron shouted, instinctually reaching for his wand, which was still in Lupin’s hand. “Give them back.”

“Not yet.” He took his step back and turned to Hermione and Heather with visible effort. “How did you find out?”

“Snape’s essay,” Heather mumbled.

Lupin made a sound between a scoff and a chuckles and shook his head. “Does he know? He’ll be delighted, no doubt. He assigned it thinking everyone would realize… What gave it away?”

“Mostly you being ill around full moons,” Hermione said, holding her head high.

Lupin forced a laugh. “You’re both quite clever.”

“You’re not going to win back our trust by talking to us if that’s what you think.” Heather had set her attention back at Black, who was still intently looking at Ron over Lupin’s shoulder. There was concern in his eyes, though Heather couldn’t tell if he was worried about Ron’s injury or about the fact his uneaten meal could still hop away from him.

“We should have told everyone what you are.” Hermione shook her head. “If we were cleverer we’d have done that.”

“The staff know… though some did not agree with Dumbledore’s choices… Some apposed it more than others…”

Ron gasped. “Dumbledore knew you were a werewolf? And he still hired you?”

Lupin forced a smile again. “Not without a lot of convincing. It took a while for him to prove to most everyone I was trustworthy – ”

“But you’re not.” Harry pointed at their wands still locked in Lupin’s grip. “Give them back if you want to prove to us we can trust you… Unless you’re lying. Unless you really are working with that murderer!”

Black shut his eyes and shook his head. When he opened them again he crossed over to the four-poster – making them jump away – and sunk into the mattress sending a cloud of dust into the air. He dropped his head on his hands. Poor Ron was stuck close to him, holding the farthest post to stay upright.

Lupin stared at the wands and threw them back, even his own. “You can trust me, Harry. I have not been working with Sirius – so if I can just explain… If you will listen.”

Heather reached for the wands, handing each one back, throwing Ron his own who immediately pointed it at Sirius Black, and gripped Lupin’s tight.

“Look, I was in my office when I glanced over at the Marauder’s Map – ”

“You know how it works?” Harry narrowed his eyes.

Lupin gave a genuine laugh. “Of course. I helped write it.”

Their mouths fell open.

Lupin continued, “I was examining the map – ”

“You’re Moony.” Heather mumbled, remembering the names from the map. Moony had called Snape’s nose ‘abnormally large’.

“It was my friend’s nickname for me back in school.” Lupin waved his hand impatiently. “I was keeping an eye on you four, knowing you’d be down with Hagrid before his hippogriff’s execution. I look away for a moment, and when I returned, thinking you’d have the good sense to leave before Dumbledore and the Minister had reached you… You were standing there… with someone else – someone I couldn’t explain.”

Heather frowned. What on earth was he talking about? When they were standing – before they were running trying to chase after Ron – no one was with them. “We were alone.”

“We weren’t with anyone,” Harry confirmed.

“You were.” Lupin glanced over at Ron. “I couldn’t believe my eyes. There wasn’t any reason in the world he’d be with you. How could he be?”

“No one was with us!” Hermione pointed at Black. “Not until HE – ”

“No,” Lupin cut her off. “I saw when a small dot labeled ‘Sirius Black’ ran towards you. I watched as he pulled two of you into the Whomping Willow – ”

“He only dragged ONE of us in!” Ron said angrily, jabbing at his chest with his thumb. “Me!”

“No.” Lupin looked at Ron firmly, holding his gaze. “Two of you.”

There was more silence. Heather gripped both wands in her hand, feeling calmer about listening to Lupin descend into madness so long as he remained unarmed.

“Might I have a look at your rat?” Lupin said as evenly as a parent asking to see a very expensive crystal figure in the hands of their toddler. He held out his hand patiently.

“What’s Scabbers got to do with all this?” Ron pressed his hands to his robe pocket immediately.

“Everything – Could I see him, please?” Lupin repeated kindly.

Ron dug in his pocket and revealed his thrashing raging rat. Scabbers was trying so desperately to get away that Ron had to hold him out by his tail. “What’s a rat got to do with anything?”

“That’s not a rat.” Lupin whispered, watching it thrash around.

Ron forced a laugh. “Then what – ”

“He’s an animagus.” Black stood finally. “By the name of Peter Pettigrew,” he spit out the name like poison.

Ron turned to him wide-eyed. “You’re both mental. Harry they’re mental!”

Harry was shaking his head. “Peter’s dead. You killed Peter Pettigrew twelve years ago!”

Black’s eyes twitched and his face turned red. “No. I meant to,” he growled. “And this time little Peter won’t get the better of me! Not again!”

Black lunged at Lupin’s wand in Heather’s hand, knocking her down and pointed it at Scabbers. Heather scrambled to her feet as Lupin pushed Sirius Black back with what little strength he had left in him, holding the wand up to ensure all shots would be fired into the ceiling.

“We have to explain first!” Lupin shouted.

“Get off!” Black snarled, pushing Lupin back.

“Sirius, no! They need to understand or else – ”

“We’ll explain after! After its all finally over!”

Heather aimed her wand between the both of them. It looked like either one could pass out at any moment, neither having the strength or energy to fight the other.

“They have – a right – to know – everything!” Lupin wrestled his wand back as Black paused. “Harry, Heather, Ron, even Hermione – they are just as much involved as us. They deserve to know the truth, Sirius.”

Without taking his eyes off the rat, Black backed away. “Fine. But make it quick, Remus. I paid twelve years of time for this, I’m ready to do the crime I was sentenced for.”

“Nutters. The both of you!” Ron’s grip on Scabbers was tight but shaky. He looked at Harry, Heather, and Hermione. “I can’t take any more of this. I’m off.” He made to jump away from the post on his good leg but Lupin pointed his wand at him.

“You’re going to hear me out, all of you,” Lupin said quietly. “Please. So just keep a tight hold on Peter while you listen.”

“This isn’t Peter! HE’S SCABBERS!” Ron’s yell knocked him off balance and made him fall back onto the bed.

“We keep telling you, Peter’s dead.” Heather kept her aim locked on Sirius, who’s gaze was locked on Scabbers.

“A whole street full of people watched you kill him.” Harry inched his way between Lupin and Ron, helping Ron back up.

“They didn’t see what they thought they saw!” Black’s eyes narrowed on Scabbers, as if putting all the world’s blame on Ron’s still struggling rat.

“Everyone believed the reports. Even I believed it when it was said that Sirius Black was a supporter and that he’d savagely murdered Peter out on that street. And then I saw the map tonight – the map never lies… It showed Peter, alive… And Ron’s holding him.” Lupin encouraged Harry and Ron to look at the trembling rat, as if they’d instantly see what he was talking about.

Heather watched Harry and Ron exchange looks. And then she met Harry’s eyes. She turned to look at Hermione and then it was final. They were all in agreement: Black and Lupin had lost their minds completely and utterly. They were absolutely mental.

From what very little they knew about Scabbers, he’d been passed down from Weasley brother to Weasley brother and was as boring and ordinary as any rat. Maybe Ron was right, and Crookshanks really was a monster. Maybe this had been Crookshank’s plan all along. He’d convinced the already loony Sirius Black that Ron’s rat was the very man he hated brought back to life, and then Black had convinced Lupin. All of this was an elaborate ruse for Crookshanks to finally get rid of Scabbers once and for all. Evil little Crookshanks.

“Professor Lupin,” Hermione spoke up. “You know it can’t be true… that Scabbers is Peter Pettigrew…”

Heather rolled her eyes. Hermione thinks she can talk sense into just about anything. What they needed to do is somehow communicate a plan of escape. Great, they’re both crazy, but Lupin still has a wand and they’re stuck behind a man who can turn into a dog and claw them to death.

“Why can’t it be true?” Lupin looked to Hermione and shrugged his shoulders like a teacher eager for engagement.

“Well… people would know if Peter Pettigrew were an animagus. The ministry keeps tabs on them and wizards who can become animals. He’d have shown up on the registry, and only seven Animagi were registered this century… And Peter wasn’t one.”

Heather hadn’t thought of finding out who was a registered animagus. When Professor McGonagall had taught about them, she’d gone to the library to find out more. How it was done, how one could ensure a type of animal, what the laws were – and nothing had come up. Madam Pince made a great show of informing her how very ‘unallowed’ her snooping was. Becoming an animagus could only be done under the strict supervision of the Ministry, who would provide all ingredients and instructions.

Her eyes shifted to Black. “Was Sirius Black on the list?”

Lupin’s eyes darted to her, and he smiled again, as if already knowing the answer.

“No,” Hermione gasped.

“The Ministry never knew there were three unregistered Animagi running around Hogwarts.”

“Three?” Heather breathed.

Black growled again from the corner of the room. “If you’re going to tell them the whole story, do it quickly, Remus. I’ve waited twelve years and I won’t wait much longer. I will murder him tonight, whether you’re done talking or not.”

Lupin put up his hands in an attempt to calm the situation back down. “You’re right… I’ll get on with it, but you’ll have to help me fill out gaps. I only know the beginning – ”

There was a creak behind Sirius Black. The door had swung open without anyone noticing. Heather had been too focused keeping her wand on Sirius Black, Lupin had been turned around looking at them. And she suspected Hermione, Harry, and Ron had also been keeping their eyes on Lupin and Black.

Lupin crossed the room passed Black and looked out onto the landing. “No one…” He closed the door and walked back.

Ron was shivering from fright, or maybe fright and blood loss. “This place is haunted!”

Lupin looked back at the door once more before shaking his head. “It’s not. It never was. The Shrieking Shack was… The howls the village used to hear… They were made by me.”

“What do you mean by you?” Heather checked the door once more, but it remained closed. “Do you mean they heard you howl… as a werewolf? In here?”

He nodded. “That’s a good place to start the story actually – with me becoming a werewolf. If I hadn’t been bitten, none of this would have happened…”

“Go on,” Hermione was watching keenly, as if ready to take mental notes during a lecture.

“I was a small boy when I received the bite. In those days, there was no cure, but my parents did try everything, at least once. That potion that I’ve been drinking all year, the one Professor Snape has been making me, is a very recent discovery. It makes me safe to be around. As long as I take it in the week preceding the full moon, I keep my mind when I transform… I just… curl up in my office and wait for the moon to wane again.”

He was talking about the Wolfsbane potion. Heather shuttered at the thought of being put in charge of brewing it every month. One false move or miscalculation and hundreds of students could be put at risk from an out of control werewolf. And no one would even realize it wasn’t made correctly until the potion didn’t work that month. How recent is recent enough for a Potions Master to become familiar with the undoubtful success of a potion well brewed?

“Before the Wolfsbane potion was discovered, I was turning into a full-fledged monster once a month. It seemed impossible that I would ever be able to attend Hogwarts. It’s not like other parents would want me around their children. Dumbledore, however, came up with a way to keep everyone safe from me during those times.” He sighed roughly. “The Whomping Willow was planted the year I came to Hogwarts. All of this was built for my use. The tunnel and this house included. I was smuggled out of the castle and into this place to transform far away from everyone else. And the tree would ensure everyone would keep away.”

Heather couldn’t believe it. Dumbledore put all that work to ensure Lupin could attend the school. He’d have probably had to go against the Ministry, or fight very hard to allow it, especially with the way the Ministry wanted werewolves to be taught in school, as dangerous monsters whose monstrousness was of their own make.

“I was in so much pain when I transformed, that the village could hear everything I went through. They heard my howls and screams and thought it was violent spirits that haunted the home. Dumbledore even encouraged the rumors, and to this day the villagers don’t approach it.” Lupin looked as if he wanted to laugh, but his spirit was being weighed down by a fond sadness. “Despite my transformations every month… I was the happiest I ever was. For the first time I had friends, three great friends. Sirius Black… Peter Pettigrew… And James Potter.” He looked at Heather and Harry and smiled.

“They found me out about me as fast as you and Hermione, I think. I disappeared once a month and I only had so many excuses to tell them. I was terrified they’d desert me the moment they realized what I truly was. Except they didn’t. Instead, they did something to turn my transformations every month into the best times of my life. They became Animagi.”

“My dad…” Harry stared astounded.

“Oh yes. Him and Sirius worked tirelessly to do it. Took them three years to find it all out without anyone raising an eyebrow of suspicion. And trust me, there was already plenty suspicion being cast their way. Sirius and James were the cleverest students of our year, which was lucky, because the animagus transformation could have gone horribly wrong. Peter needed a great amount of help from them. But finally, come fifth year, they were all changing into a different animal at will.”

“But how is that helpful to you?” Hermione asked.

“They kept me company as animals. They all left the castle under James’ invisibility cloak and Peter, the smallest of them, would press the knot on the Whomping Willow and they could all come join me as their animal selves.”

“Move on with it, Remus.” Black was getting impatient just staring at the rat clutched tightly in Ron’s hands.

“Well… they became quite bored of the shack eventually… We started roaming the school grounds and the village by night. Although I was still very wolfish, my mind was much clearer around them. And James and Sirius were large enough to keep a grown werewolf in check. I doubt anyone knew the grounds quite like we did. That is how we came to write the Marauder’s Map. We even signed it with our nicknames. Sirius is Padfoot, Peter is wormtail, and James was Prongs.”

“That was really foolish.” Hermione huffed. “What if you had given them the slip and gone and bitten someone?”

Heather nodded. “You ran around assuming no one else snuck out of the castle at night.”

Lupin nodded slowly, staring down at the space between them. “Incredibly foolish of us. There were near misses, at least a handful of them… We laughed about most of them afterwards… We were young, careless, thoughtless – got carried away with our own cleverness… Though I sometimes felt guilty betraying Dumbledore’s trust…”

No one spoke, allowing Lupin time to collect his thoughts or push down feelings he seemed to be having.

“No Headmaster had wanted to admit me until Dumbledore. And I betrayed his trust. He had no idea I was breaking the rules, risking people’s safety, encouraging my friends into illegal activity that the Ministry would not excuse. And all this year I’ve been battling with my guilt, knowing I should tell Dumbledore that Sirius is an animagus, but I didn’t do it. I was too cowardly to admit to him that I’d broken his trust all those years ago. He admitted me when no one else would, and he gave me a job when nowhere else will. His trust means everything to me… I convinced myself that Sirius was getting in using Dark Arts that he’d learned from you-know-who. I convinced myself that him being an animagus had nothing to do with anything all year… In a way, Snape’s been right about me all along.”

Black scoffed, bringing everyone attention to him. For the first time all night he let his attention drop from Scabbers. “Snape? What’s he got to do with it?”

“He’s working here at the school, Sirius. As a teacher.” Lupin looked back at them. “He was at school with us too. And he fought very hard to keep the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts away from me. All year he’s been telling Dumbledore that I’m not to be trusted. He has his reasons… See, Sirius played a trick on him that could have gotten him killed… A trick which involved me – “

Black made a dismissive noise. “A trick that served him right,” he sneered. “Snape was always sneaking around, trying to find out what we were doing… trying to get us expelled…”

“Snape was very interested in where I disappeared to each month,” Lupin told them. “We were in the same year, and we – er – didn’t like each other very much. He especially disliked James. Jealous of him and his Quidditch talent… anyway, Snape saw me crossing the grounds with Madam Pomphrey as she led me to the Whomping Willow. Sirius thought it’d be – er – amusing – to tell Snape all he had to do was prod the knot with a long stick.”

“Of course he tried it,” Black cut in. “If I’d’ve told him he needed to chop off his own finger and sacrifice it to the Willow, he’d have done it, especially if it meant finding out what you were up to and getting you – and more likely, he hoped us – expelled.”

Lupin nodded. “If he’d got as far as the house, he’d have met a full grown werewolf. James however, heard what Sirius had done and went after Snape. He risked his own life and pulled Snape back just in time and saved him from what might have been a very gruesome death… for the both of them. However, Snape had caught a glimpse of me at the end of that tunnel. Dumbledore forbade him from telling anyone and since then he knew what I was…”

“That’s why he doesn’t like you,” Harry said slowly, as the revelation reached him. “He thinks you were in on the joke?”

From behind Lupin’s shoulder Heather caught a glimpse of what looked like the wall pattern shifting in wrinkles. Her eyes widened as the invisibility cloak fell to the floor, and Snape stepped forward, wand pointed at the back of Lupin’s head.

“That’s right,” Snape sneered, voice cold and tight with hatred.

~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~

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[darksunrising]

Sola Gratia (10/?)

Masterlist

Rating / Warnings : Graphic descriptions of violence, Viewer discretion is advised (short paragraph)

Fandom : Bram Stoker’s Dracula, BBC’s Dracula, various Dracula and vampire lore.

Part 10/? (2730 words)

Author’s notes : Beware ! A Dracula-less chapter (-ish) ! I promise, he’ll be back soon, he really wants to go to that Renaissance fair... (Also yay, part 10 !)

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Mary Van Helsing.

I asked Leah if she hadn't made a mistake. She almost took offense. I sat back in my chair, staring at the ceiling. What ? How ? Van Helsing ? I mean, that could just be a freaky, freaky coincidence. I laughed nervously to myself.

“Hah, you gotta admit that's funny the Van Helsing kid wants to study the Balkanic middle ages”, Leah laughed. Ditto.

Seeing as I didn't reply, she asked if I felt alright. I took a deep breath.

“Leah, there's something I need to tell you.”

“Yeah, of course, what's- Oh, fuck.”

She turned back to her laptop, and started frantically typing, cursing under her breath as she did.

“Someone got my position. Jeez, whoever those guys are, they really don't want anyone finding out they exist !”

“What do you mean ?”

“I mean there's a very good chance we will have an unpleasant visit pretty soon.”

She sounded nervous, which was a strange color on her. She activated an emergency shutdown, and closed her computer, taking a moment sitting still, eyes staring into the void. She then stood up decidedly.

“We don't know who it was, could be nothing”, I tried to reassure her.

“Yeah well, not to boast or anything, but if they got through my defenses, I really don't wanna know. Listen, let's just crash at my place, there's a chance they pinged on the VPN and actually here.”

She was so determined, I didn't even think to contradict her. She left her laptop there, only taking her bike helmet. I grabbed my bag, and followed her out of my office. Even though she was tiny, I had trouble keeping up with her fast paces. As we sped through the corridors, I caught a glimpse of dirty hazelnut hair, and grabbed Leah's arm to take a hard right into another hallway. Felt like running into Helder right now wouldn't be the best turn of events. Plus, I was supposed to give a class he was attending, so, that.

“Thinking back exit ?”

“What else ?”

We kept half-jogging to the end of the corridor, turning a few curious heads on the way, pushed on a service door, and slipped outside. The sun blinded me a second, as we made our way to the parking lot. Leah dug her keys out of her pockets, and unlocked the pad on her motorcycle, cursing a few more times every time she ripped around the keyhole. She turned to give me her helmet, and stopped halfway, wincing. Ah.

“Eris Cetero and Leah Fox. I'm going to need you to come with us.”

A very sharply dressed woman was standing a few paces away, icy stare and tightly pulled dark hair. She looked composed, unyielding, and was flanked on both sides by two men built like wardrobes, poorly dissimulating a handgun under their suit jackets. Not the kind of person to try to run away from, then.

“Listen, we didn't mean any harm. We could all just forget it.”

Sometimes, her bluntness had some perks. She had moved over in front of me, her hand grasping mine.

“You are not in trouble. At least not with us”, the woman continued. “We thought we would wait more, but you forced our hand.”

“We have no idea what you're talking about”, Leah kept going, still on the defensive.

I said nothing, trying to keep a straight face.

“My name is Mary Van Helsing. I work in the Murray Institute for the Neutralization of Abnormalities. We have a lot to discuss, especially with you, Miss Cetero.”

Ah shit. Let's think about this rationally. There was no way I could escape that situation. I also didn't want Leah to get in trouble, and I started to see she was about to keep on going if I didn't do anything. I took a deep breath, which had her stop.

“Alright. We have crossed a line digging into things we shouldn't have. You are entitled to some explanations, and if you feel like this can't be done in a parking lot, so be it. Lead the way”, I declared, trying to be as calm and composed as I could.

I was met by a look of disbelief on Leah's face, and an emotionless nod from Mary, who turned on her heels without a word. Can't believe my incredible charm hadn't worked on her yet. Leah's hand softened, and I took a hold of it as we walked to the intimidating sedan waiting for us.

~ ~ ~

The ride took a bit longer than I thought. From the moment Leah started going deeper in her search, and the moment they arrived, it couldn't have been more than fifteen minutes, and yet, it took well over half an hour to get to our destination. Maybe they were already close, and we just got unlucky. Seemed about right.

We remained silent the whole car ride. You couldn't have hacked through the tension using a damn chainsaw, at this point. Leah and I held hands, so tight I saw her knuckles going white. She was shaking a little, and I hated myself for putting her through this. If only I weren't a nosy fucking idiot.

We arrived to a decrepit-looking building, most likely turn of the 19th century architecture. Above the entrance, the stone looked like it had been engraved, a while ago, but the script was almost completely worn out. Inside, the emptiness gave an echo to every step, the ground overrun with cables coming from other parts of the house. We kept on going straight forward, went down a slope, and arrived to a huge freight elevator. It made a shrieking noise as it went down for a while, so deep we might as well have gone straight down to hell. If you believe in that sort of thing.

The elevator shook as it stopped, opening on a surprisingly high-tech complex.

“Ladies, welcome to M.I.N.A.”, Mary told us as we stepped off.

The first room was a large hall, open on two more stories, visible through balconies, on which were plastered neon lights. In neatly aligned cubicles, employees worked on god knows what, piles of paper cluttering all desks, the intermittent sound of phones and the indistinct chatter of radio making the noise almost unbearable. Mary kept on walking, some people greeting her as she passed them, and giving Leah and I the strangest looks. Ooh, boy. That was about to be fun.

She opened large fire-breaking doors, and we went on a corridor, making a few turns. As I had learned by now, I memorized the turns. Right, left at the weird plant, another left at the water fountain. She opened a door for us, leaving us to enter before her. That looked awfully like an interrogation room, with one table at the center, and two uncomfortable chairs. The double sided-mirror occupying one of the walls was also a dead giveaway.

One of the guards stopped Leah as she went after me. As she protested, they told us they would explain the situation separately. If they actually knew anything, that might be the smarter option. I reassured her, smiling, and went into the interrogation room. One of the guards came with me, and closed the door, only to stand in a corner, silent. I dragged out a chair to sit, waiting for anything to happen.

“Not really talkative around here, huh ?”, I asked, knowing I wouldn't get an answer.

Moments later, Mary came back into the room, holding a few files, one distinctly bearing my name. It does something to your ego, to have your name on a secret society's secret case file, in their secret underground bunker. The woman sat on the other side of the table, leaning forward on her elbows.

“Miss Cetero, do you really have no idea why you're here ?”, she asked.

Of course I know why I'm here. You know I know. You saw me try to fly into the wind with my partner in crime as soon as we knew you found us. I just had to put my best performance on. Tremble, Hollywood.

“Well, we did hack into some pretty secure servers to get information that we weren't supposed to get”, I told her, and shrugged. “That seems pretty clear to me.”

“There's that, but I want to talk about something else.”

Her face was completely unfeeling, yet her voice was soft, a bit too maternal for my tastes. I had a little smile, encouraging her to talk. There was no risk if I wasn't talking.

“Do you believe at all in the, quote-unquote, supernatural ?”

If she kept talking to me like I was a particularly simple child, I'd show her something supernatural pretty damn soon. I worked to keep down the wave of righteous anger crashing against the insides of my chest.

“Do you mean... ghosts ?”, I ventured.

“Among others. I'm talking more specifically about vampires.”

Her eyes were gleaming behind the rectangles of her glasses. I didn't react, other than a little laugh. Alright, keep it up, play dumb.

“Vampires ? Come on, is this a joke ? Did Leah put you up to this ?”, I giggled.

Not that dumb, fuck's sake. Nobody was this stupid. I actually wanted to kill myself. I was so in character my voice went up an octave all on its own. Repressing a shiver, I kept on smiling like a brainless fish.

“I'm afraid I'm dead serious. As... Phantasmagorical as it may seem, such creatures exist, and we believe you, and your friend, may be in grave danger.”

Well, that seemed to actually work pretty well. Not really trying to think of the reasons why I had so little trouble passing as brain-dead, I had a nervous laughter, and kept going.

“Do I have to look around for a man in a black cape next time I leave my building, Mrs. Van Helsing ?”

“Doctor Van Helsing, actually. And rather, you should look around for the man you know as professor Vlad Balaur.”

Ah, direct, I see.

“I'm not sure I get your meaning.”

“We have good reasons to think Vlad Balaur is a vampire, trying to pass himself up as Vlad Dracula Tepes, a character you of all people know well.”

I didn't say anything, but my heart sank to my stomach.

“In what I will tell you, I want you to assume everything I say is true”, she started, leaning back. “In 1896, a team made up from Jonathan Harker, Quincey Morris, Mina Murray-Harker, and Abraham Van Helsing, put an end to the reign of terror of the vampire known as Dracula. It seemed he was no other than Vlad Tepes, the Impaler, who supposedly had, quote-unquote, “died” during the 15th century. At his return to London, he decided to create this institution, to be certain that should such a horrific event happen again, people would have the knowledge and resources to deal with it.”

She took a pause, gauging my reaction. I tried to keep my innocent façade, but has strictly no idea wether she could tell I was faking. The feeling of dread creeping its way into my mind didn't help either.

“Bram Stoker was an accomplice to the whole ordeal, and published his book, which was explicitly branded as fiction. You know the rest, concerning the sometimes questionable turn of the theme into popular culture. However, vampires, among other numerous creatures, are still a threat on humanity today. And a lot of them take inspiration from ancient figures, like Count Dracula. This would not be the first time one of them fashioned himself the Dark Prince Returned.”

“I'm sorry”, I interrupted, “But how can you expect me to believe any of that ? Do you even have any proof ?”

I tried to keep my panic out of my tone. I didn't want to believe it, but what if she was right ? She couldn't be, right ? He knew so much about everything, and... I tried to calm myself down. Just need to get through this, I'll talk this out with the man himself. All would be well.

“Even if you were right, even if professor Balaur was a vampire”, I began as she only kept staring at me. “He never tried to hurt me, or had any reprehensible behavior toward me or Leah. Why would I need to be worried ?”

She looked at me for what seemed like hours, and finally pulled a file from her pile, and slid it towards me. She then sat back, and lit a cigarette. She offered one, and I declined politely, asking what was in the file.

“All around the city, for the last month, we had a count of twenty-four murders”, she declared. “Look at the pictures, and you tell me what kind of person could have done this.”

Shaking a bit, I opened the file, and instantly had to put a hand over my mouth. You can watch hours and hours of horror movies, and never get used to anything like that. Everything was red. Seeping into the fabrics, clothing, mattresses, drapes. Splattered on the walls, dripping from the ceilings. Body parts, bent in impossible angles, flesh frayed, shredded in long clawing marks, leaving the internal organs and their contents spilling out of the deformed corpses. Throats. Open. So torn apart it just looked like a bundle of rubber tubes. On one of the victim's descriptive notes, I glimpsed the word “pregnant”. I closed my eyes, looking away. There were hundreds. Mary offered again, and I took the cigarette. I closed the case file, taking a long drag.

“What happened in Romania, Miss Cetero ?”, she asked, a bit more softly.

I raised my head to meet her gaze. “I... Nothing happened. I- I visited some museums, hiked a little, why do you ask ?”

My eyes welled up with tears, and keeping on a neutral smile was a physical effort at this point. I kept seeing flashes of teeth, the horse, inside out, bled dry.

“We believe he might come from there, which is why he would identify with Dracula. He could have taken a liking to you there, and followed you here.”

“I think I would remember an encounter with something that does... that does this on a daily basis”, I snapped, fighting through tears. That couldn't be right. It couldn't.

“Your memory could have been wiped. It's not uncommon, once again.”

I started to feel dizzy. Maybe it was the cigarette. I didn't smoke very often, so that was probably that, right ? I must have remained silent a while, because Mary leaned forward, putting back the file on the pile.

“Listen, I will make this as clear as possible”, she snapped. “If we are to stop this creature, we need your full support. For some reason, he trusts you more than most. You cannot tell him about your knowledge of this place.”

She slid a card across the table.

“If you are ever in danger, or need any information, call us. We will call you if necessary.”

She put out her cigarette on a portable ashtray, and I did the same, mechanically.

“What did you tell Leah ?”, I asked.

“Nothing more than she needs to know, which does not include anything about Vlad Balaur. We think the less people know, the safer it is.”

I nodded, and slipped the card into my pocket. Nothing about this felt safe, or right, or anything but confusing, and nauseating. They escorted me out, and I still felt engulfed in cotton, everything muted, even when Leah nearly jumped into my arms as I got out. I barely realized I walked, or the time spent in the car, until they dropped me off at home.

I dragged myself to my apartment, and went straight to bed, half expecting to see him there, on the balcony. Instead, I found a note. I opened the window, and took the folded sheet of paper. The same he used back in Romania, and the same fine, elegant handwriting. It was weighed down with a polished rock, which I noticed, upon further inspection, contained a multitude of little fossils.

I have heard historians like old things, here is one.

For another, I will be back soon.

All my love,

Vlad.

~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

Taglist : @carydorse​ @angelicdestieldemon​ @bloodhon3yx​ @thewondernanazombie​ @battocar​ @moony691​ @mjlock​ @thebeautyofdisorder​ @festering-queen​ @paracosmfantasy​ @my-fanfic-library

[neversidekick-blog]

Flamethrower’s Alleged Harassment

What’s going on?

deadcatwithaflamethrower has suggested she is the victim of a targeted campaign of harassment, and along the way she’s used some antisemitic dogwhistles, which would be problematic on its own, but is especially insidious IMO given the topic of the alleged harassment.

I am positive that I am one of the people she says harassed her, though I maintain I did no such thing. 

I’m going to attempt to provide the fullest accounting of these events possible, with the caveat that I simply don’t have copies of a few key pieces of evidence.

If you’re going to follow along, I ask you read all the screenshots and quotations carefully, because the details do matter if you want a complete picture.

The first two sections are background info for those unaware of a few relevant facts. The issue of alleged harassment follows.

Jewish Snape

Flamethrower has written a long, serial HP fic called Of a Linear Circle. In it, Severus Snape is portrayed as Jewish. While his Jewishness is touched upon in multiple chapters across multiple parts of the series, this is how it is introduced:

“I didn’t know you were Jewish.”

Severus rolls his eyes and taps the bridge of his nose. “It isn’t obvious?”

Nizar gives him a baffled look. “What does your nose have to do with it?”

“It’s a…stereotype.” Severus grimaces at Nizar’s continued look of confusion, but he still meets older adults who’ve never heard the word used that way. “Racism.”

“Oh. Idiots,” Nizar mutters. “Besides, if you wanted to see some truly horrific examples of nasal protuberances, you’d find yourself a Viking who’d had their nose broken four or five times.”

I applaud including Jewish characters in fic, even in the case where they are not Jewish in canon. Positive portrayals of Jewish characters should be encouraged throughout fandom.

Picking Snape to be the character from Harry Potter to reframe as Jewish is a complicated choice, because of the vile and enduring antisemitic stereotype relating to Jewish people having large, ugly noses. 

Consider the following quote spoken by the Marauder’s Map in POA:

Mr. Moony presents his compliments to Professor Snape, and begs him to keep his abnormally large nose out of other people's business.

Mr. Prongs agrees with Mr. Moony, and would like to add that Professor Snape is an ugly git.

Mr. Padfoot would like to register his astonishment that an idiot like that ever became a professor.

Mr. Wormtail bids Professor Snape good day, and advises him to wash his hair, the slimeball.

Leaning into a stereotype is a difficult choice. It’s not bad, but it should be handled with some thought. IMO you either need to ignore the canon association with Snape’s nose, or you need to deliberately deconstruct it.

Flamethrower did neither. This by itself I would not say is antisemitic, merely clumsy. She went to great efforts to portray Snape’s Jewishness positively, and I honestly applaud that.  

But I know I’m not the only person who encountered it and was uncomfortable with the antisemitic stereotype being on display so clumsily. Not that I thought it meant flamethrower or her fic were antisemitic, just that this particular use of a stereotype was uncomfortable. 

A Thread about Hebrew

Of a Linear Circle is heavily concerned with linguistics. It features discussions of many languages, including Hebrew. One of those discussions contains an error, a faulty transliteration. This is a minor mistake, and in a fic with so many linguistic discussions, some mistakes would happen for even a true polyglot.

The problem is that when a Jewish fan commented with a polite suggestion of a fix to the error, flamethrower proceeded to Goysplain both Hebrew and the Shoah to her.

It’s not a good look. It’s arrogant and condescending. By itself, though, it’s not antisemitic, just an author being a little too defensive and overbearing. But it’s there, and more than a few Jewish fans noticed it because flamethrower has promoted the fact that Snape is Jewish in this fic.

Where the Harassment Supposedly Begins

At some point, a Jewish fan (who implicitly identifies herself as such later), leaves a comment on the chapter of flamethrower’s fic with the potentially upsetting antisemitic nose stereotype.

The request is for a tag or warning of some kind for the comment, just so it doesn’t take readers by surprise. Perhaps requesting the fic as a whole be tagged with “antisemitism” is a step too far and would seem bizarre, but the gist of the comment is a request for a content warning. Flamethrower could have sorted out a note or a less inflammatory tag if she cared to do so, but she never replied to this comment.

The fact that she didn’t reply to this comment doesn’t matter really. She gets a lot of fic comments, so the idea she missed one or didn’t feel like replying isn’t the issue. 

But this comment was left on August 10, and when it received no response for a week, I believe the same fan sent flamethrower an ask on the same topic, which is where the saga of supposed harassment begins.

The Ask

The text of the ask was as follows:

HI! I LEFT YOU A COMMENT RECENTLY ON YOUR FIC OF A LINEAR CIRCLE, BUT I CAN SEE YOU WERE VERY BUSY AND PROBABLY DIDN'T SEE IT. I HOPE YOU DON'T MIND ME ASKING, BUT WOULD YOU MIND TAGGING IT FOR THE ANTISEMITIC HUMOR IN IT? I KNOW IT WAS MEANT IN GOOD FAITH AND YOU HAD A JEWISH FRIEND CONSULT, BUT NOT ALL JEWS ARE COMFORTABLE WITH JOKING ABOUT STEROTYPES, AND FOR THOSE OF US THAT AREN'T, A LITTLE WARNING WOULD BE VERY KIND. THANK YOU!— queried by heatherly84

I consider this fairly innocuous and polite. As I said above, perhaps the reasonable outcome wasn’t the exact tag suggested, or even a tag at all--maybe a note in the intro notes of the chapter warning for it would have sufficed.

But this is how flamethrower responded:

So, because you had a single moment of twinge due to a child character’s self-consciousness regarding their appearance and their religion as they struggle to come to terms with stereotypes they face every day…you want me to add a tag to my fic that will see it immediately black-listed as anti-semitic even though it’s absolutely nothing of the sort.

No. No, I will not.

I am not here to gatekeep your internet experience. If that moment made you uncomfortable, you should a) think about what the character was going through instead of expecting it to be the author being a dick, and b) click your back button.

EDIT: No, wait. I’m not done.

What really gets me here is that you are asking me to tag a scene as anti-Semitic when this underconfident Jewish-born child, already dealing with horrible stereotyping, is promptly reassured by an Adult that there is nothing wrong with his faith or his appearance, and said child shouldn’t put stock into the people doing the stereotyping.

You want me to tag something as Bad that is meant to be enouragement for anyone in that position, a common theme in YA lit.

Are you sure it’s the perceived anti-Semitism that’s the problem, or is it something else entirely?

I saw the ask and flamethrower’s response shortly after it was posted on her tumblr. To say I found the response troubling is an understatement.

Flamethrower condescends to a fan asking, not for any substantive change or edit to the fic, but to a mere content warning.

Flamethrower presumes to tell someone how they must feel about the handling of antisemitic stereotypes in a fic, which would be bullshit even if she didn’t handle this particular antisemitic stereotype so clumsily.

Flamethrower accuses the fan of some secret and malicious motive because she, the author, is overly defensive.

Particularly considering the topic of antisemitism, I found the response wanting, so I decided I should say something.

The Submission

In an attempt to convey to Flamethrower that the concerns about the antisemitic stereotyping of Snape’s nose wasn’t the concern of a single fan, and to try to open a dialogue and point out some other missteps I felt she had made in the general region of Jewish representation in fandom and antisemitism, I decided to send her a submission.

I am an ancient member of fandom from the days of usenet and livejournal, and to be honest I just never got tumblr, so I had to create an account solely for this purpose. I’m sure that makes me sound like a bizarre dinosaur, but it’s the truth. And I created this account and wrote up a submission to flamethrower and sent it in.

Admittedly, my tone was a little sharp in a few places due to very genuine frustration, but as I tried to make clear, I was trying to appeal to her to do better, not simply condemn, and definitely not harass.

The following is the full and exact text of my submission to flamethrower: 

I feel that you're being deeply disingenuous. You introduced Snape being a Jew in your fic with the following lines:

“I didn’t know you were Jewish.”

Severus rolls his eyes and taps the bridge of his nose. “It isn’t obvious?”

And a Jewish person rather politely asked you to mark it as referencing antisemitic stereotypes, because holy fuck you made a character whose nose is remarkably large in canon Jewish and leaned into that in. Sure, you followed it with a joke about Viking noses, but that's not the deconstruction you seem to think it is. It's just a handwave that accomplishes nothing.

That, by itself, I could maybe give a pass, but then there's this comment thread: https://archiveofourown.org/comments/113294382 Someone tells you they're Jewish and gives you a bit of helpful advice about a bit of Hebrew linguistics that you have absolutely and totally wrong; it's not something, as you suggest in your replies, that varies with regions. It's universally understood, but you talk over the person whose cultural language you're using as if you know better.

But the part that really crosses the line is that you say the following in your scramble to throw shit against the wall to insist you could be right:

Then there are the parlances common to specific groups that are just fucking GONE because of the Holocaust, and we don't have any way now to know how they might have said certain words.

You Goysplain the Shoah to a Jew.

If you actually care as deeply about positive representations of Jewish characters in fandom as you say you do, maybe listening to actual critiques from actual Jews should be a thing you do, instead of reacting defensively and shutting them down.

Also, please never refer to a person as "Jewish sidekick" again, as you did in that thread. Unpacking the baggage there would take a separate submission. I'm taking the time to write this out, perhaps foolishly, because I hope you're sincere about caring and will actually listen. Shutting down the voices of Jewish people is not a part of portraying Jewishness positively in fandom. I hope you can see that and will listen and do better.

She posted and responded to this. I don’t have a screenshot of her response, nor do I have the full text because of how quickly she deleted it, but I do have a partial quote of her response:

However, you did accuse a Jewish woman by proxy of Goysplaining, which I find incredibly insulting on my best friend’s behalf. (She wants her name left out of it for anxiety reasons, and given how this is probably going to turn into a huffing and puffing Drag Down The Evil Witch Goyim thing, I don’t blame her.)

This bit of rhetorical gymnastics on her part served an interesting and infuriating purpose. I objected to her refusing to listen to actual Jewish fans trying to tell her things on multiple occasions, and I also criticized her use of the “I can’t have done anything wrong, my best friend is Jewish,” defense. Here she doubled down on that defense, essentially saying the person she has referred to on multiple occasions as her “Jewish Sidekick” insulates her from all possible problematic statements re: Jewishness.

The rest of her response was equally inane, but as I can’t quote it directly in her own words, I can’t justify saying more about it.

A Second, Unpublished Ask

As I mentioned above, I’ve never really used Tumblr. The difference between submitting posts and submitting asks confused me. I knew the original request for a content warning tag was an ask and that I’d done a post. I was afraid I should have sent an ask instead.

I was also rereading her response to heatherly84, and I was annoyed that she didn’t get why the joke about Snape’s nose wasn’t okay.

So I sent in an ask before my submission was posted and responded to.

I don’t have the text of my ask, but I give flamethrower permission to post it in full if she chooses. I recall saying two things:

1) In the form of a question, I tried to walk her through understanding why the joke about Snape’s nose could still read as antisemitic.

2) I acknowledged I’d sent the submission, and said I would prefer she respond to it, since it was more detailed.

Perhaps I committed some terrible tumblr faux pas in submitting a post and an ask on the same topic closely together and that constitutes harassment.

I suspect the former is true but the latter is not.

Flamethrower Deletes Posts and Claims Harassment

In a matter of minutes after flamethrower posts my submission and her response, she deletes it. A new post goes up.

I have to assume the combination of two asks and a submission is what she is saying is harassment. You’ve seen the text of one ask and one post, so hopefully you’ll agree one ask was very polite and the post was slightly terse but A) not harassment, B) not an ad hominem attack, C) and a list of reasons why she was wrong to do certain things, not a list of reasons why she as a person was awful. I maintain the unpublished ask is in the same vein, and she is free to publish it in full if she chooses.

Then she begins posting more, and her claims about what she was sent escalate.

Here we have what is called a dogwhistle: she’s not saying evil Jews are conspiring against her to make her look bad. However, in response to criticisms of potentially antisemitic behavior, she falls back on the trope of “devious” Jews in a malicious conspiracy. This is problematic, and I will say flat out it is antisemitic.

She also misrepresents what was going on: Jewish fans asking her to listen to them without being condescending. Jewish fans asking for a single content warning.

I believe at this point I sent either another ask or submission, with the gist being, “If you’re going to post about things I submitted to your tumblr and characterize them a certain way, I would appreciate it if you reposted them so viewers could judge for themselves whether what you’re saying is accurate.”

Continuing to engage was a mistake, clearly. 

Her vague posting with the context hidden continued.

And she ends by going full non-sequitur. 

She never raised not wanting to attract white supremacists and Nazis as a reason to avoid a warning tag. 

She condescended and attacked and told a Jewish fan her reactions were invalid.

If flamethrower cared about Jewish representation in fandom, opposing antisemitism, and Jewish fans, she could have compromised with some sort of warning in some fashion.

Even if she were absolutely opposed to a warning of any kind, she could have not condescended and invalidated the experiences of Jewish fans trying to speak with her.

Even if she couldn’t do that, she could have avoided deleting all context and then going on a posting spree that suggests an evil Jewish conspiracy is harassing her.

The only conclusions I can draw from all of this are as follows:

1) Engaging with flamethrower as a person who cares about Jewish fans is a mistake, because she cares more about presenting herself as an authority on Jewish experiences to non-Jewish fans than she does to listening to any critique, no matter how minor or polite, from a Jewish fan.

2) Flamethrower is happy to oppose antisemitism in the shallowest possible way to pat herself on the back and seek congratulations from others, but the second she’s in conflict with actual Jewish people, she resorts to vague and just barely deniable antisemitism herself.

3) Flamethrower is unable to accept anything she perceives as criticism, no matter how kindly it’s presented, because she’s too invested in presenting herself as the absolute expert on every topic she has passingly researched for a fic. Her defensiveness over a trivial topic is merely odd, but on more serious topics, it becomes problematic.

4) No one has harassed flamethrower, and nothing she is construing as harassment is part of a “setup” or conspiracy.

5) I probably don’t know how to use Tumblr properly.

Edited to Add: What I Think Is a Lie

I have been refreshing flamethrower’s tumblr nearly non-stop since this began, as have several people I know. Unless the offer of a different tag occurred in a private message, I am confident in saying it is a lie, particularly given her instant negative reaction to the very idea as shown above. If screencaps are provided, I will of course retract this and apologize.

[apicturewithasmile]

Fishful Thinking

or: What the hell is up with all those fish references?

As I was working on two gif sets (1, 2) showing all (or at least most) of the times Red talks about fish in one way or another, I couldn’t help but wonder if there’s some pattern to these stories. I decided to sort the fish references into the four following categories and put my literary analysis degree to good use

Category 1: There’s always a bigger fish.

Category 2: self-recognition through the fish

Category 3: Beware The Fish!

Category 4: Is this the real life, is this just fanta-sea?

Though some fish references could be put in more than one category, I chose to sort them according to how I’d like to interprete their relevance to the show and Red’s character. Because of the vast amount of fish stories and references throughout the years I cannot possibly talk about all of them but I will still list them all under their respective category for the sake of completeness.

All of that under the cut because it’s long (sorry @ mobile users):

Category 1: There’s always a bigger fish.

1x01 Pilot Red: Zamani was a small fish. I’m Ahab. And if you want the whales on my list, you have to play by my rules.

3x11 Gregory Devry Red: I don’t know. What I do know is if he’s called a meeting and the members are gathering, he’s a very big fish. […] Follow this fish, and you can net the entire school.

5x13 The Invisible Hand Big Willie: Nash? Come on, man. You want to go up against those guys? You’re a big enough fish? Why risk that? | Red: I’m not a big fish, William. I’m Moby Dick.

The first of many fish references happens no sooner than in the Pilot (1x01) itself. Red calls his first Blacklister Ranko Zamani “a small fish” – as opposed to the “whales” he offers up to the FBI in exchange for immunity. Interesting in this scene is that Red refers to himself as “Ahab”, the Captain from H. Melville’s novel Moby Dick. In the book, Ahab is driven by his manic – and subsequently fatal – desire to hunt and kill the big white whale named Moby Dick. In the end this venture costs Ahab his life as well as the lives of all but one of his crew members.

When looking at this scene separately from the rest of the show it’s easy to think of it as ~just a TV show pilot giving us an easy way to characterise their protagonist – and yes, partially that is a purpose this scene serves (note it’s also the scene in which Red gives the show its name, referring directly to his list as “The Blacklist”). However, if we take into account what happens as the show progresses, even just in season 1, the Ahab-reference gains a little more weight, as Red’s “whale hunt” nearly gets him killed (1x10) while also leading to the death of two of his team members, Luli Zeng (1x09) and Newton Philips (1x11), as well as the murder of Task Force member Meera Malik (1x22). All of that for the hunt after the first season’s big fish and main antagonist Berlin, along with (as we will later learn) the undeniably even bigger fish: The Cabal.

Juxtaposing the Ahab-reference is Red’s remark from the episode The Invisible Hand (5x13) where he refers to himself as “Moby Dick” instead of Ahab. On one hand this serves the technical purpose to remind Red’s scene partner (and us, the audience) that Red isn’t just any fish – big or small – in the large tank full of criminals. No, he is in fact the biggest of them all, a legend and he will bring everyone down who tries to harm him. On the other hand it offers up an interpretation of Red knowing that his project – The Blacklist – will inevitably be his own downfall. He is both the hunter and the beast which means the question is less “who will win in the end?” rather than “is there any way out of this other than through his own death?”. This also ties in with the speculations amongst fans that Red himself will turn out to be the No. 1 on the Blacklist as the series comes to an end.

The third and final fish reference in this category is in the episode Gregory Devry (3x11) where the episode’s Blacklister gets called a “big fish” by Red. It’s possible to just brush that off as a somewhat common allegory to think of criminals as big/small fish but I find it noteworthy that it just so happens to be used for the Blacklister who claims to be the ~real Raymond Reddington. Describing Devry as a “big fish” also puts that label on Red by extension. And following ~our big fish Red also leads to the netting of an entire school of criminals aka The Blacklist.

*****

Category 2: self-recognition through the fish

1x21 Berlin Red: I was once on the island of Ko Ri, free-diving in the Andaman Sea. I felt terribly ill stung by a lionfish. I was dehydrated, in excruciating pain. I had lost all sense of time and place. I was completely disoriented. But I knew I was dying, so I readied myself for it. And in that moment, at death’s door, I looked up, and standing over me in the brightness was this landless Moken sea gypsy just standing there, smiling. She and her tribe nursed me back to health, good as new. And when I left the island she kissed me. It was like a burst of sunlight on my cheek. It was – It made nearly dying well worth it. That’s how I feel now.

2x09 Luther Braxton Red: In Mexico, there are these fish that have colonized the freshwater caves along Sierra del Abra.They were lost. They found themselves living in complete darkness. But they didn’t die. Instead, they thrived. They adapted. They lost their pigmentation, their sight, eventually even their eyes. With survival, they became hideous. I’ve rarely thought about what I once was. But I wonder if a ray of light were to make it into the cave, would I be able to see it? Or feel it? Would I gravitate to its warmth? And if I did, would I become less hideous?

4x12 Natalie Luca Red: Losing someone we love is painful. Agonizing even unto death. The Japanese call it tako-tsubo – a grieving surge of abnormal electrical waves that causes the heart to deflate and contort until it resembles a a fishing pot. Hollow and cold, an empty vessel at the bottom of a fathomless sea. I’m sorry for your loss. You have suffered enough of that in your life.

In this category I have grouped together instances in which fish-metaphors or fish-related stories are used to express Red’s inner conflict.

First I want to focus on the two monologues from seasons 1 and 2 as they complement each other very well and can be discussed together. The scenes not only share textual but also structural similarities: both of these monologues are spoken by Red to Lizzy in situations where he or both of them are in a dangerous and/or threatening situation; and they are both part of a season and mid-season finale respectively, which often are episodes with greater exploration of character motivation and inner conflict than there would be time for in a regular episode.

The hideous fish monologue in Luther Braxton (2x09) has been subject of great in-depth discussion in the fandom time and again; especially the Lizzington shippers keep coming back to it, as he is clearly talking about Lizzy when he mentions the “ray of light” and ends with explaining that he didn’t want her to follow him because it would put her in danger. [Sidenote: Anyone who still doubts that he was talking about Lizzy being his “ray of light”, I’d like to direct towards the episode Karakurt 2x21 in which Red invents an alias for Lizzy: “Ginger Lumiere” which literally translates to “Red Light”.]

You can also find a light-reference in the fish story from Berlin (1x21) when Red says “[…] she kissed me. It was like a burst of sunlight on my cheek. [...] It made nearly dying well worth it. That’s how I feel now.” as he is looking up at Lizzy, essentially telling her that despite all the pain and hardships he has gone through and will be facing in the future – it’s worth it because of her. With those two fish stories combined he paints us a pretty cohesive image of how he views himself – the hideous fish who adapted to the darkness that surrounds him and thrives in it; and what Lizzy is to him – a burst of sunlight, the warmth that could have the power to make him less hideous, and arguably even the sea gypsy nursing him back to health.

Interestingly the fish that stung him in his 1x21 story is a lionfish. I’m pointing that out because that same species will get mentioned again in season 4, so I will come back to that when talking about the next category.

In Natalie Luca (4x12) he talks to the young woman who has just lost her boyfriend and it’s evident that he’s not only talking about her loss but also about his recent experience of losing someone he loved – namely when he thought Lizzy had died after giving birth to Agnes. On a textual basis it seems like he’s just talking about Natalie but the camera is positioned in such a way that Natalie’s image is reflected in the window behind which Red sits, effectively merging the two characters together, making it clear that when he’s talking about her, he’s also talking about himself. Thus it is reasonable to assume Red is empathising with Natalie on the basis of grieving their romantic love interest (despite Lizzy having come back from the dead in the meantime, Red is still struggling with the pain Lizzy’s actions have caused him). He then describes Natalie’s and his pain as the heart resembling “a fishing pot. Hollow and cold, an empty vessel at the bottom of a fathomless sea.” Red feels like he has lost his “ray of light” and thus his heart has dropped to the bottom of the sea, into even deeper darkness than ever before, causing him to make decisions as hideous as shooting Kate Kaplan.

On a sidenote, the scene in which Natalie Luca’s boyfriend dies parallels Lizzy’s (fake) death scene very well in terms of camera angles and movements – Natalie being the stand-in for Red; the boyfriend being stand-in for Lizzy.

*****

Category 3: Beware The Fish!

3x15 Drexel Red: Right. Which is why we’re here now. We’ve come for the fugu kimo. | Dembe: Fugu kimo? | Red: Blowfish liver. Contains a poison 1,200 times deadlier than cyanide– so lethal, a single fish can kill 30 grown men.

4x05 The Lindquist Concern Red: Perhaps another go with the candiru fish. I understand they burrow into the most impossible nooks and crannies.

4x07 Dr. Adrian Shaw Red: Have you ever been spearfishing? You should go spearfishing. I love spearfishing. On the Ambergris Caye, there is a reef– | Liz: If there’s a reason you felt this story couldn’t wait, I’d love to hear it, but quickly if possible. | Red: I have a Blacklister for you. They call him The Coroner. | Liz: I just got my baby back, my husband, my family. This can wait. | Red: Lionfish. | Liz: Lionfish? | Red: An aggressive, invasive species threatens the local habitat, leaves destruction in its wake. Sound like anyone we know?

These three make up the group of fish as some form of a danger. Here we see fish used as a torture device by creative torture expert Brimley in 4x05 and mentioned in the form of a potentially lethal meal in 3x15.

The most interesting reference in this category though is the one from Dr. Adrian Shaw (4x07) because as I’ve pointed out above the lionfish which has first been mentioned in 1x21 makes another appearance here. 4x07 is the first part of the mid-season finale and in the beginning of the episode Red makes a point of equating Kirk to the invasive, aggressive and destructive nature of lionfish.

In the second part of this mid-season finale Red will then be tortured and almost killed by Alexander Kirk – a man who believes himself to be Lizzy’s father. In his attempt to get revenge and compensation for the years Kirk has lost with his (thought-to-be) daughter he goes to great and often violent lengths. This culminates in Kirk ~becoming the lionfish from Red’s season 1 story. Kirk injects Red with multiple substances that all build up to Red being in “excruciating pain. [losing] all sense of time and place” and being “completely disoriented.” just like in his story from 1x21. This then leads to Red saying whatever he thinks Kirk wants to hear in order to survive. The result is a (false) confession that Red is Lizzy’s father as well as some (yet-to-be-revealed?) secret whispered into Kirk’s ear which eventually convinces him to let Red walk free. The next time we see Red, he shows up at Lizzy’s doorstep, to visit the burst of sunlight that made nearly dying well worth it (whether that is still Lizzy at this point or the title has been handed over to Agnes is open for speculation).

*****

Category 4: Is this the real life, is this just fanta-sea?

4x09 Lipet’s Seafood Company Red: Marlin– that’s not a very common name. I knew a Marlin when I was young. Marlin Trout. One boy, two fish names. Funny.

4x22 Mr. Kaplan Conclusion Red: Ho Chi Minh City! That’s it. I got away from you aboard that catfish trawler on the Saigon River. My God, the humidity. But fun times indeed. More to come, Agent Gale. More to come.

5x15 Pattie Sue Edwards Red: Smokey, as you well know, Heddie did not take a powder. She’s lying in her bed right now, sneezing and wheezing, swollen up like a puffer fish. I’m afraid all the dogs and cats finally got the best of her.

5x22 Sutton Ross Liz: I’ll get you for this. | Red: You’ll try, but there’s a fine line between fishing and standing on the shore, looking like an idiot.

6x03 The Pharmacist Red: On a side note, I once went fly fishing for a cutthroat trout in the Roaring Fork Valley, where, inexplicably, I stumbled upon Justice Antonin Scalia may God rest his soul and, boy, did we have some real barn burners. My word, that man could argue. Six hours, hip deep in whitewater, and with all the yelling, neither of us got so much as an alevin.

7x01 Louis T. Steinhil Red: But I’ve been paralyzed before. The spine of a blowfish pierced my wet suit off Pit–

Some fans have wondered how much truth there really is in stories such as “Marlin Trout” (4x09) or fly fishing with Justice Scalia (6x03). Even the lionfish story from 1x21 can be up for debate. Did Red really experience all this or is he making it up for the sake of a nice metaphor, to buy himself time, distract his opponent? Is it realistic for one man to be stung by two poisenous fish (a lionfish and a blowfish) on two separate occassions? And how did a former KGB agent (if we assume he really is Ilya Koslov) know a Marlin Trout when he was young and presumably growing up in Russia?

But what all the fish-references in the fourth category have in common is that they are used for comic relief. I guess it’s also safe to assume that after so many seasons and fish stories to which the fans reacted positively, some of these later fish references are purely there as Easter eggs for fan service and one can hardly blame the writers for that. The most recent one from Louis T. Steinhil (7x01) was a good example of using a fish reference just so the fans could cross that off their Blacklist Bingo chart.

Especially the bit from The Pharmacist (6x03) sticks out as it is a very obvious nod towards James Spader’s previous TV show Boston Legal in which his character goes fishing in Nimmo Bay where he later gets married by Antonin Scalia in the final episode of the show. Since Red spends the first half of season 6 in prison and we keep getting scenes of him defending himself in court, the writers saw their opportunity for an Alan Shore homage and they took it. Well done.

*****

That’s it, I hope some of you made it all the way to the end. There’s not really a conclusion to this except that I don’t think there really is some deeper meaning behind the many fish references other than the writers and/or James Spader obviously being into fish very much. The fish world offering a vast selection of potential metaphors and stories also fits in nicely with (the real) Raymond Reddington having been a Naval Intelligence Officer.

So long, and thanks for all the fish!

[bumble-booty]

Commissions Are Open! (New and Updated Version!)

Commissions are currently Open!

My writing background and preferences!

My Nickname is Bumble Booty or Baby Blue, feel free to use either! My specialty is dark/gore, body horror, psychological horror, and NSFW! However, I will absolutely do non-dark as well, so if light and fluffy is more your preference- I’m still interested in writing it! 

I have a Bachelors Degree with a Double Major and a minor- Psychology (specialized in abnormal), Philosophy (integrative study with Psychology), and Criminology (minor and main focus being crime and homicide). As for other useful background, I actually work for a movie store (and one other place, but that one doesn’t give me plot bunnies)! 

What that means for you is- don’t be shy with any prompt. I’ve probably been in contact with it before through my studies, personal research, or work-related exposure!

My specialty is Transformers, but I have recently fallen for the Hazbin Hotel fandom. However, I have not written for the latter as of yet. I will most likely get into Hazbin Hotel very soon though! If you want something outside of these fandoms, please expect a slight delay as I research the fandom. Please ask though, as I may still take it on with sufficient info!

Disclaimer: On most occasions, I typically stick to more canon-style fics. It is simply easier for me to work with plausible situations that can expand out from there- however, I might still do more crack-style if I feel confident enough. I will also do original works if I have enough information!

What I will Likely/Certainly Reject: These are subtypes I do not feel confident in/have had bad experiences with/ will not touch with a 10 foot pole. 

Pedophilia. 

While age-differences are perfectly okay, molesting a child isn’t. All characters in my work WILL be 18+ for NSFW fics, or you can politely take your business elsewhere. 

Because sometimes this apparently needs to be said, Age Regression is not Pedophilia. If your preferred characters are of consensual age and this is a psychological fic where the boundaries are CLEARLY set, please feel free to message me. If your character is a child being abused as an adult, do not. I can tell the difference. 

Farting/ Flatulence fics. 

This is a strange one, but I have had strange experiences with this subtype and those that request it. I have no opinion on your kinks or likes, but I will no longer be accepting fics with this as a PRIMARY FOCUS. 

If it happens to be something that might come up- for instance, an IBS coping fic, a period fic, an autopsy/drowning fic, etc- I will happily discuss this being an option as far as accurately describing the symptoms/struggles of those that suffer with these conditions/fates. Do not hesitate to discuss it with me, the worst you will be told is no. 

Unusually Predatory/ Targeted Hate Fics.

I am well aware of the trend of shaming someone/ channeling a targeted threat through popular media, and I will not help damage someone’s psyche. If I have reason to believe you are using this fic to try to shame a previous significant other/ trying to use your fic and its exposure to target/mislead someone into what could be a psychologically damaging situation, I will not be working with you. Deciding this is my discretion, and if it is truly not your intent I apologize but stand by my decision. As mentioned prior, If it is not your intent go ahead and email me with your prompt anyway- the worst you will be told is no! 

 Any Other Fic for Personal Reasons. 

I am a person with my own history, and I reserve the right to deny a fic if it strikes too close to home. 

My Pricing, Payments, Refunds, and Alterations!

Pricing: I charge in USD on a rising scale for minimum word counts. 50 cents per 100 words, up to $4.50 for 999. After that, it's a flat $5 for 1,000-word increments. So: $5 for 1,000 words, $10 for 2,000 words, $15 for 3,000, etc. Final Pricing will be established before I start working, but I am very flexible! Should you want something changed/altered while I’m working on the draft, please contact me! 

Payments: Payments are accepted through Venmo upon completion AND APPROVAL of your work.

Refunds: Refunds will not be served, as I usually don’t accept payment until after the work is completed and approved. 

Alterations: If we decide on an alternative prompt after or during the first draft, I will consider this the new commission and write with a new/altered price agreed on by both of us through DM/Email. I will mostly stick with my standard pricing, but any oddities will be discussed privately should something happen on my end to cause a delay. 

Side note: I do not have a maximum word count, and if I go over it's ON ME. My Prices are for a minimum, not a maximum.

Request form!

When contacting me about a commission, please send me this general format for ease of keeping everything straight! If you do not, I will reply with this copied in so I know exactly what you want and can ask for more information wherever needed!

Characters: (This is who you want to see! If you want couples, please mark them in the x/x format, with non-couples listed singularly and separated by a comma.) 

EX: Prowl/Jazz, Optimus Prime, Bumblebee, Unnamed Mecha.

Basic Plot: (SFW/NSFW, what you want to happen. This is the main idea I’m working with!)

EX: NSFW, Jazz returns from a mission in a dangerous head space. He is fairly violent to everyone, and is searching for Prowl due to his ability to calm his coding. Optimus and Bumblebee are helping Prowl contain the rouge Ops mech before he offlines half the base. 

Sub-Plot: (Kinks/Small Details/ Triggers you want to see. If going into more detail on a particular thing, put a hyphen after the general descriptor and continue. End this with another hyphen, then continue listing if you have more!)

EX: Pinning, Biting, Clawing, Mild Body Horror- Maybe Optimus gets some tubing cut loose? Or a random, unnamed Mech meeting a foul end after startling Jazz?  I just want it to be obvious how dangerous Jazz is in this state!- Feral Behavior, Aftercare, and Post-Recovery Apology.

Other: Things you DO NOT WANT TO SEE AT ALL. Please clarify in the same way you clarified in Sub-plot. This is especially important if you are requesting Gore/Trauma fics.  

******Please be clear on this!!!! This can be as broad as "no gore" to as specific as the word "moist". Please understand that it is not necessary for you to explain why, nor do you have to give me any reasoning should I ask for you to expand/elaborate. I do, however, reserve the right to ask if similar words/situations would also be off-limits. As mentioned in the personal background, I have studied Psychology and I do not want to be the reason you expand a phobia or traumatic event.  PLEASE REMEMBER THIS IS A SERVICE YOU ARE PAYING FOR, AND IT IS MY DUTY TO FILL THIS SERVICE IN A WAY THAT YOU ENJOY! Not put you in a bad head space or trigger you!******

EX: Gutting, Descriptive Bone/strut snapping, Overly Possessive Language- especially the word ‘pet’ or other dehumanizing possessive language along those lines- Unsanitary, and the word “Moist”- similar words such as ‘damp’ or ‘sweltering’ are acceptable (I just don’t like that word). 

How To Reach Me!

Email: My work email is “bootybumble@yahoo.com”- please put ‘commission’ somewhere in the subject line so I know to look ASAP. I usually respond pretty quick, but I do hold two jobs. Expect an answer within 24 hours. I will reply to the email you contact me with if I have further questions and clarification, or if I’m accepting/rejecting the commission right away!

If you do not receive an answer in 24 hours, feel free to email me again and explain you did not get an answer- it might be a filtering problem that I need to fix! 

DM: Direct Messages are also acceptable here, but I will warn that I often forget to check! Email is more reliable for a faster reply, but I will do my best do accommodate those that don’t want to/ can’t email! 

Please keep to the same format as you would for an email, but feel free to break it up into sizable portions since messages read a bit weird. I don’t mind the spam messages, I'm that kind of texter myself!

Priority/Timeframe, Rejecting, and Posting/Delivery! 

Priority/Timeframe: Commissions will take top priority over other writing work, and if I happen to get two at once it will be by order of receiving. I strive to have 2,000 words and below done per a one week period, anything more than that I will discuss with you over email/pms due to job balancing.

Rejecting: I would like to mention that I still reserve my rights to reject commissions if I feel I am unable to complete them in a manner worthy of accepting payment, or if I feel I cannot give enough personal effort due to work/personal qualms.

Posting/Delivery: Upon completion of the first draft, I will send you the draft script in a downloaded document (usually .docx format) if you like the draft/bones, please respond with any alterations you would like to see! This is additions, subtractions, substitutes, or changes! You can do anything as small as a word, to as large as the entire fic as long as it is agreed upon. 

After this is cleared, I will go back through the fic and add flourish and final details. After that is the proofreading phase, then I will send you the completed fic. If you are not happy with the final fic, please respond with what you would like changed and I will GLADLY fix the issues!

DISCLAIMER: I will not post your finished product without your permission if it is a payment-finalized product! This means that if you have paid for it, it is yours to keep. If I really liked the fic, I might ask your permission to post it to my AO3 Account with it either listed as a gift fic to your AO3 account, or with a notice placed in the notes at the top of the page that this was a commissioned piece, followed by your username/"anonymous" if you would not like it known that it was yours. 

HOWEVER: I ask that you do not post these works as if they were your own! I work very hard on my commissions and put substantial research into each piece, and I am more than willing to signal boost you on the work as well for sponsoring it! If you have a private archive or something similar that you intend on posting it to, please mention it to me during the initial emails/dms and we can discuss it. (I highly doubt I will mind though, I can understand some organization quirks!)

Samples!

If you would like to read some samples of my works, Check me out on AO3!

http://archiveofourown.org/users/BumbleBooty 

Here are some samples of my personal favorite works within my most popular word count brackets!

Less than 1K- http://archiveofourown.org/works/13413417

Thuck! E's Thuck! - Bumblebee/Grimlock, NSFW, Vore 

1K- http://archiveofourown.org/works/13445199

Those Who Need Us The Most- Bumblebee/Grimlock, SFW, Comfort 

2K- http://archiveofourown.org/works/13356138

The Sweetest Melody- Tarn/Pharma, NSFW, Body Horror

3K- http://archiveofourown.org/works/12662973

Detecting the Undetectable- Jazz/Prowl, NSFW, Heat Cycles

4K- http://archiveofourown.org/works/12275850

SCP 3262- Bumblebee, Original work, SCP Crossover

Just under 5K- http://archiveofourown.org/works/12199893

All For You- Jazz/Prowl, NSF, Candy Armour Vore Style

6K+- http://archiveofourown.org/works/13407669 

Pretty Kitty-Prowl/Jazz/Smokescreen, NSFW, Neko/Werewolf Heatfic

[secondchancesfic]

Second Chances

Superhero!AU

Fandom: Sanders’ Sides

Pairings: Parental Analogical

Tags/Warnings: dead animals, mentions of abuse, mild anxiety.

Words: 2011

**Note: Ok this is the start of a fic I’ve been thinking since like 2 days ago (today is 2019-07-16) and I already have plots and possible arcs. Its not complete, so bare with me, ‘cause I will try my mightiest to do the chapters and updates. Might do art too **

PROLOGUE

Summary: Ever since Virgil got to the orphanage he has been such a sweet and nice kid, but sometimes really weird things happen around him.

It was raining.

The sound of dark clouds clashing broke the peaceful silence, bright flashes of light illuminated the room. Some toys were scatter in the floor. Darkness. Lighting, the bed had some thin blankets and a bunny plushie. Darkness. Light illuminated the child’s eyes. What a beautiful yet strange coloration he had, deep blue with purple stripes that wouldn’t be notice from afar. He was watching the stormy night through the window; it sure was pouring like crazy. The small kid didn’t mind, he found it rather calming; it can’t be said the same for the other kids, some of them were hiding in their bed sheets, holding on to their plushies or asking for the comfort of one of the guardians in the facility. The child could listen to someone knocking at the door and entering, he turn to look at one of the caretakers.

-Hey, Virgil- The caretaker said kindly -Are you ready?-

Virgil is nervous, despite this, he nods lightly. He climb down his bed, started walking towards the door but quickly went back to get his bunny. Once in the light of the corridor you could see how pale he looked, his hair was a deep brown and he was a bit too thin. He was wearing a black sweater, too big for the 7 year old, yet it was the only thing that gave him comfort in certain days.

For some reason, he always decided to wear dark clothes since he got to the orphanage. No one knew exactly where did he came from. One similar night like tonight a caretaker found little Virgil soaking wet, curling inside one of the closets where they stored blankets; no one saw him enter the closet, let alone saw him enter the building in general. He was trembling so much, scared of something but he wouldn’t say what, he wouldn’t let anyone get near him or take him out of the closet. One of the caretakers had to stay with him for hours until Virgil trusted them enough to get him out of there. Besides the weird arrival, he was a nice kid. Just…Jumpy. And scared. Once he got used to the staff, his flinches became less and less. They manage to get Virgil a psychological checkup, some of his actions were…abnormal to say the least. He would act almost animalistic, he would hiss and rarely speak and would try to bite people if they got near enough without making it known for him. The therapist that check on him couldn’t get much information through words, so he introduce the child with some colors and paper. Let’s just say the drawings were highly aggressive and violent to describe, especially for a, back then, 4 year old. Suffice to say, they had an idea of what probably happened to him but decided to not ponder much about it.

Even the other children were appalled by his very quiet and introvert demeanor. Some kids would actually try to speak to him and spend time, he would oblige but not exactly look happy about it. He was not violent at all, in fact, he was the sweetest kid around, although he could be a little devil from time to time. Virgil was known to scare some kids with blankets and pretend to be a ghost. He was a nice kid.

Yet…A little weird…More like… Weird things happened around him.

In one instance, some children were playing with a ball, when one of them stumble upon a dying cat in the back of the building, poor thing swallow some rat poison and was convulsing (From what the description the children gave, it might have been the case). It wasn’t a very pleasant image for a child to see. One of the caretakers was called by a group of crying children, he followed them to the back only to see Virgil holding the cat, who was… Alive… And purring. Now, kids probably confused a sleeping kitty for a dead one, but the description of foam and open glossy eyes was too graphic for a child to have said if they didn’t ever saw it before. Virgil placed the kitten in the ground, well mostly letting the cat jump off of him and kind of laid down in the floor to promptly fall asleep. The cat walked away as if nothing happened.

After that, Virgil was being watch carefully by staff, meanwhile kids took distance from him. Some start to call him a witch or a magician, others, not so kindly, called him a freak. There were other times were dying things like plants would suddenly come back to being healthy, or when one of the staff found a dead bird who broke its neck by colliding with one of the windows and went to find a plastic bag only to return to Virgil sat on the ground while petting slowly the bird that now was chirping and flapping its wings. Maybe it was nothing, maybe it was just a coincidence.  Those can be explainable, right?

Well. Maybe. But not one time.  

Nothing would be as strange and frantic as the time one kid had to be put in quarantine. She was very sick, the illness was like a common cold but it was attacking her very aggressively. Even with attention from doctors, even with medicine it just wouldn’t go away. They had to wait up till it pass. But it just didn’t. Each day it passed she would get worst and worst, the doctors didn’t had much hopes. It might have been something else, but they didn’t manage to catch it on time. The child was getting weaker and weaker and the only thing one of the last doctors they called up could say was to have no high hopes.

The staff were planning on how to tell at the children what was going on. They break the news to the group of children, being the most sincere yet delicate possible to explain what was going on and what would happened to their friend. All the children were distraught, they didn’t understand, the caretakers were sadden and tried to not break in front of the kids who needed them all right there and then. Suddenly, there was the sound of a door opening and closing; 2 of the caretakers went to check on the sick girl, and the door was locked. They checked around to see at the children gathered there, and guess who wasn’t around them?

Virgil lock himself inside the sick girl’s room. They could here steps going away from the door. They called him to open the door, their shouts increase, more worried than angry, no one wanted another kid to get sick, let alone… Die. One of the higher staff came with a master key and open the door, flinging it wide open. They saw Virgil holding the kid’s arm and kneeling; he was trembling and crying, he looked so sad but he didn’t cried because of that, it was almost as if he was in pain.

One of the caretakers hold and pull him away, and no one in Virgil’s life at that place saw him in so much distress. Kicking the air and screaming to be let go, saying things like he could do it. The caretaker had to take Virgil and lock him in his room, they stayed with him to make sure he was ok. Virgil was crying a lot, holding himself as if he was going to fall apart; he suddenly curled in himself and lay down in bed, trembling in excruciating pain. The caretaker went to get someone to phone a doctor quick, his tracks were fast to find the phone, then another caretaker crash on them to get the phone too. They were told the sick girl was sitting and speaking, as if nothing was happening, she still had fever but other than that it seem she was fine.

Once the doctor came, they went running towards Virgil’s room, and there he was…! Just sleeping in his bed. They didn’t understand. They let Virgil sleep and went to check the girl, who was having only common cold symptoms. The doctor said with the medicine should be enough now. While the girl was getting better by the week, Virgil was very sleepy and drained all that time. He would sleep for a while and only wake up to eat a bit. Once he was well and not tired started hanging out with that girl. They both became good friends after that. Nothing was explained, nothing was wrong but it was weird as fuck. The caretakers took it as if it was a miracle, some religious ones thought that maybe Virgil was a type of angel. Even the more skeptic didn’t know what to think about this.

Well… In any case, as weird as it was, it was all ok. The caretaker went through all the memories, the fun ones, the scary ones, the weird ones… All turning into a bittersweet moment in their head, “Dariela is gonna miss her best friend” was one of the thoughts that crossed through their head. And the reasoning behind it was because Virgil was going to get adopted.

-Here we are, Virge- The caretaker said opening a door to an office. A man was sitting in the chair giving his back to the door. He turn around to see both of them, he seem calm but his fidgeting hands would say the contrary. Virgil saw him and look at the floor nervously.

-Come on now- The caretaker said, pressing his hand gently on Virgil’s hand for comfort. Virgil walked towards the man and sit next to him.

-Hello, Virgil- The man smiled kindly.

-Hi…- Virgil manage to say. He hold on to his bunny closely.

-Are you nervous?- The man said asked stuttering a bit. His hands were holding on a piece of paper that was getting ripped into pieces.

Virgil holds his bunny to his face and hides behind it.

-C’mon, Virge, don’t hide your face- said the caretaker.

-It’s quite alright- said the man smiling at the caretaker, then return his attention to Virgil. -I understand this must be a big change for you, Virgil. It will be alright, we will go at your own pace- said surely.

Virgil looked puzzled about what he meant, he lower his bunny and looked at the man in a questioning way.

-I-I mean, uh… You can take as much time to feel less nervous…- The man was getting nervous too. Being a parent is what he always wanted, but he had to admit that he was still not good at talking to kids.

-I’m ok…- Virgil said lowering his bunny. –I’m… Happy- He smiled not looking at the man who would be his dad. “Dad”. It was kind of weird to call him that, even if already knows who the man was after the several interviews they had.

The man gasp very lowly, he was almost choking on tears. He didn’t know what to do with his hands and he just simply hold on to the paper he was holding.

The caretaker took notice of this, the scene warm their heart. It was nice to see Virgil to be open and to have a family now.

-Ahem…- The caretaker cleared their throat to make the man pay attention to them. –Alright Mr. Huberto…- The caretaker was interrupted.

-Please, Logan it’s alright.- Logan said raising his hand to a stop motion.

-Oh, right. Mr. Logan- Logan sighed, he does like to stay formal but at this point he feels too familiar with the caretaker and most of the staff there. –Are you ready to sign the papers?-

Logan looked at Virgil with gleeful eyes and a smile then turn to the caretaker. –Yes-

Virgil saw the paper being passed to Logan, he had a lot of mix feelings, now he tried to be happy, because he was finally getting a dad.

Once the documentation was done, the rain stopped.

TAG LIST: 

*hey sorry for tagging you* 

@softestvirgil @royallyanxious @stormcrawler75 @pastel-sparkle-punk hey for tagging you, may i interest you in a fic? 

Prologue / CH 1

[cinnamaldeide]

Fannibal Appreciation Day #FannibalFicRecs: Supernatural Elements Edition

After the success of this post for @hannibalficwriters and because there’s never enough fic rec posts, I decided to provide another list of stories I personally recommend, this time around focusing my attention on stories which contains supernatural elements. I know anyone can see my bookmarks whenever they want and I know it’s been a while since the last time I did something like this, but the Fannibal Appreciation Day seemed a perfect occasion to remember everybody how much of a beautiful, creative group of writers we are. This is a day to show our love, to send some good vibes, to share our appreciation to those who make this fandom a better place, who dedicate their time to have a good time and improve my own, along with that of many, many other fannibals like me :) This is my humble offering to your talent and to your presence, you gave me something I wouldn’t find anywhere else in the world.

Altered perceptions » Colourless by @mazephoenix

Summary: Since Hannibal vanished Will has lost his ability to see color.

Mature

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter

This brief post-WoTL story portrays the intense ache Will would experience, were he to lose Hannibal after their experience with the Red Dragon. Will could come back home, to his house, to his dogs, eventually to his work, but the world would never be the same. Not without that unique soul that depicted every else in his life in bright light.

Biological Abnormalities » Nature and Nurture (ongoing serie) by @thenecronon

Summary: In which Will’s empathy is more than a quirk of his biology, and his biology is more than human.

Explicit

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply

Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter, Franklyn Froideveaux, Donald Sutcliffe

I learned to love this writer with this amazing, fucked up story, and here I am, coming back at it full force to recommend anyone with a stomach for oviposition to read it and its sequel. Neither Will nor Hannibal know what happens in Will’s body, which regularly sends Will into heat and produces unidentified substances, they just know they’ll see where their close encounter will lead.

Cursed objects » The Feast is Life by @rubybakeneko

Summary: Following an impulsive purchase, Will begins to dream of a man who makes him feel less alone. In time, he realizes that these aren’t just dreams—they’re interactions with someone (or something) real. Hannibal offers Will the possibility of a life together, but it will come at a price.

Explicit

No Archive Warnings Apply

Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter, Alana Bloom, Abigail Hobbs, Will Graham’s Dogs

Will knows loneliness intimately, it has been with him all his life. Presented with the chance to depart from its vicious grip, Will doesn’t realize his desire for companionship is so strong as to make him a vulnerable target for manipulative individuals like Hannibal. He’ll learn that trusting someone that makes you feel right might eventually make you realise how wicked you’ve been all along. 

Devil » Unveiled by @beatricenius

Summary: Hannibal meets a stranger in a bar who claims to be the devil. He just might believe it.

Explicit

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter

This delightful story features two non-human creatures exploring intimacy in their human bodies and feelings. The author pictures with clarity the way they study the way the other handles his drink, their lazy chat around something more than a simple rendezvous in an insignificant bar, their dismissive gesture to show it’s not important if, by the end of the night, there’ll be sex at all.

Dragons » Headwaters by @whreflections

Summary: Years ago, Mischa Lecter fled the Nazis with the rest of her family, leaving behind their home, Castle Lecter, and the lesser god that inhabited it- Hannibal, a dark but immensely loyal creature who had served their family for generations. He adored her, more than all the others, and would have kept her with him forever. Instead, he lost her, and has admitted no one to the house since. After his grandmother's death, though, Will Graham doesn't really have anywhere to call home. With all the stories she told him about growing up in Castle Lecter (and about Hannibal, most of all), he can't pass up the chance that he just might belong somewhere after all.

Teen and Up Audience

Graphic Depictions Of Violence 

Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham, Mischa Lecter

I already promoted this beautiful work, but I’ll repeat myself if necessary. This delicate story portrays Hannibal and his painful ties with the Lecter castle he can’t abandon. His loyalty compels him to remain in its domain, where Will is going to find him, so that he’ll be able to put an end to their solitude. Mischa couldn’t remain with him forever, but maybe he’ll not be lonely anymore.

Faeries » My crown on the head of a creature (ongoing) by Mx_Carter

Summary: The faery that calls itself Hannibal Lecter happens across a homeless Will Graham on a cold evening and offers him a bed for the night. Things... escalate.

Mature

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter

In this beautiful, promissing Universe, supernatural elements and suspance mingle in a captivating combination. Will is wary of accepting Hannibal’s ospitality, despite the cold winder freezing his bones. He just doens’t suspect Hannibal’s true nature, which Will knows intimately. If he learned something from his previous experience with faes, it’s that they cannot be trusted.

Familiars » Dodging the dog by @fhimechan

Summary: AU where Will and Hannibal try to kill each other by proxy, but “proxy” means “deadly animals.”

General Audience

No Archive Warnings Apply

Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham’s Dogs, Beverly Katz

This certainly isn’t the classic way to murder, for either of our beloved murderers, but I can grant you it would have been a much funnier show if Will started trying to murder Hannibal through unconventional means, like he does in this story. The animals aren’t actual familiars, but their role is quite similiar. Will’s reckoning has never been furrier.

Ghosts » Let us pray that hell may not separate us by @soyonscruels

Summary: “Pure empathy,” says Hannibal Lecter, and it will be some time before he realises his mistake. “Pure empathy,” lies Will Graham, in careful agreement, and knows that it’s only a matter of time before he’s found out. “That must be quite a burden to bear,” says Hannibal, and Will meets his eyes, sips his tea, and knows, for once in his life, that he is not the only liar in the room.

Explicit

Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter, Abigail Hobbs, Freddie Lounds, Beverly Katz, Jack Crawford

This delicate rendition of Will’s surreal existence, made up of lies and isolation, shows his deep, twisted desire to stop hiding himself. He’s always been the way he is, able to see without withdrawing, he just needs to find someone to understand him as clearly. Will’s life has been a ghost story, with himself as protagonist, until Hannibal came around.

Kitsunes » Breath and Blood and Burning by @thesilverqueenlady

Summary: It’s true that originally Hannibal had had no intention of interacting with Will Graham besides toying with him for the small pleasure it would bring him before Hannibal moves on to the next skin, the next name, the next tail. And then Will stomps away shouting about field kabuki, and, really, that was too great an opportunity for Hannibal to pass up. So Hannibal does the reasonable thing and starts the arduous process of turning Will into a fellow kitsune.

Teen and Up Audience

No Archive Warnings Apply

Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter

Will’s becoming has always been matter of great interest. Hannibal has tried to show him his great potential with his means. In this story, Hannibal sees in Will the potential to become a secular creature capable of surviving time and changes, if only Will abandons his human nature. Hannibal is eager to bend it, to gain a worthy companion.

Mutants » Lot 166 by @highermagic

Summary:  Mutant trade is a legal activity. Hannibal has never been inclined to buy one for himself, but then Jack asks him to attend a Verger auction to acquire a special asset for the FBI. What he gets is Will, one of Mason’s “Special Projects.” Whether Will can be useful to the FBI remains to be seen, but now Hannibal legally owns a mutant slave, and things promise to get very... messy.

Explicit

Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Jack Crawford, Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham, Margot Verger, Mason Verger, Alana Bloom, Beverly Katz, Jimmy Price, Brian Zeller, Eva, Bedelia Du Maurier, Anthony Dimmond, Doctor Sutcliffe, Francis Dolarhyde, Dr. Cordell Doemling

Hannibal cannot resist his curiosity, when he’s presented with a mysterious individual with no warnings on his label. Hannibal doesn’t know exactly in what’s he’s getting involved, but unraveling Will’s abilities is not as immediate as it would be with other mutants and Hannibal is nothing if not patient, especially if Will proves himself as interesting as he seems.

Powers » To Welcome in the Year by @coloredink

Summary: Dr. Hannibal Lecter can control time in small, localized ways, but he no longer uses it in surgery; Will Graham can repair small objects, but he works for the FBI. It has been winter for as long as anyone can remember. That's how the story begins.

Teen And Up Audiences

No Archive Warnings Apply

Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter, Abigail Hobbs

In this beautiful retelling of the first two seasons, where the use one has for his own ability is more telling than the ability itself, Hannibal is surprised that Will never considered not to use his gift, wasting what good would be lost. A metaphorical scenario where forgiveness comes with the weight of a physical touch and the cold engulfing them both is not merely a figure of speech.

Serendipity » Astronomical Odds by @xzombiexkittenx

Summary: Based on the joke: Picked up a hitchhiker last night. He said, “Thanks! how do you know I’m not a serial killer though?” I replied, “The chances of two serial killers being in the same car are astronomical.”

Mature

No Archive Warnings Apply

Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter

Considering the little chances of such a meeting ever occurring, I deliberately decided that fate has something to do with this fortunate encounter. How else would Will find Hannibal so interesting so soon? Will has never been a fortunate man in his life, if one watches the serie, but in this story he might have the chance to obtain some happines without compromissing his already dark moral.

Time rewind » At First Meeting by @emungere

Summary: Will relives the day he met Hannibal.

Teen And Up Audiences

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter

Despite the pain, the suffering and the anger that paved Will and Hannibal’s friendship, which Hannibal embraced and fostered much sooner than Will did, there’s not a different world or reality as fulfilling as that where Will ends up in Hannibal’s arms, bloody and victorious. No matter how many opportunities Will had at his disposal. He couldn’t be satisfied with anything less than his version. 

Transformations » Velvet by @avegetariancannibal

Summary: After the fall, a transformation takes place.

Not Rated

No Archive Warnings Apply

Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter

Assisting Hannibal in his time of need, bloody and bedridden, Will realizes their survival is real, as are the changings happening to themy. Some manifest themselves more physically cumbersome than others. Will needs more pillows than he expected in his new existence, but it’s ok. Neither Hannibal nor himself are to experience alone whatever the future holds for the both of them.

Vampires » Mythics - Prelude by @bokuno-jinsei

Summary: Will is a hunter of mythical creatures, employed to bring mythics who fail to adhere to the new laws and order of society in to justice. When a falsified contract leads him to Hannibal’s doorstep, however, things become rather complicated. But honestly, when it’s a world of demons and monsters and magic, when are things not complicated?

Mature

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter, Abigail Hobbs, Alana Bloom, Jack Crawford

In a darkish steampunk scenario, where Hannibal is a vampire and Will hunts those of his kind, where mythical creature and humans are still to find their balance in a civil society, chaos seems to engulf everyone in its thick fog of confusion. This writer beautifully captures Will’s attempts at navigating his way between subtle lies and unstable suppositions.

Werewolves » Beasts (ongoing) by @aametis

Summary: Hannibal tells a lie about his sex life and has to live with the consequences. Will doesn’t lie but he doesn’t tell the truth either.

Explicit

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter, Original Male Character

Trusting Hannibal even outside of his psychiatric office, Will decides to show hims something incredible, something rather personal and disturbing to witness. To his luck, Hannibal hardly shies away from what he doesn’t understand. His ability to observe with interest, without judging Will for his choices, is probably everything Will has ever wanted from another human being.

Wishbabies » With a Crown of Stars by @thehoyden

Summary: When the call connects, Will says, “I know what kind of crazy I am, but I’m not this kind of crazy.” “Will?” Dr. Lecter says. “Yes, hi, sorry,” Will says. “It’s me. There’s a baby on my porch.”

Explicit

No Archive Warnings Apply

Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter, Abigail Hobbs, Jack Crawford, Alana Bloom, Beverly Katz, Freddie Lounds, Abel Gideon

When two people want to make a baby and it's not happening biologically, if they wish very, very hard-- well, Will and Hannibal didn’t know, but apparently they wanted one, so here they are and Hannibal suddenly feel like treating that encephalitis. There are in fact means of influence other than violence, family is a concept the both of them need to explore together.

Witches » A Soft Hoodwink of Shadows (serie) by @zigzag-wanderer

Summary: Something a little creepy...

Mature

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Will Graham, Will Graham’s Dogs, Hannibal Lecter, Abigail Hobbs, Jack Crawford, Original Female Character(s)

The real magic elements in this work are the wonderful descriptions of this impressive, poetic author, whom conjures entire landscapes of green and grim, of silence and mist, the kind where one gets lost and is never to be found again. Will escapes with his daughter somewhere far away, somewhere where strange is normal, but he discovers something stranger waits for him right next door.

This is kind of personal, I included writers with whom I daily interacted, whose beautiful souls I saw, among those who have been in this fandom from the beginning and never left it. I’m just sorry I mostly read Hannigraham and I don’t have more names to offer.

I cannot thank enough all those rebloggers who allowed my followers to know I existed, like @h4nnibalism or @crisisoninfintefandoms, all those gifted authors who help @fhimechan and me with the Accidental Sex initiative, all those artists and groups that provide new material despite our interrupted situation, all those patient readers who comment and like my own works, as well as those considerate souls that actually rec my stories or calling me out on their Fanfiction Writers Appreciation Day, like @hannibalsimago and @littlethingwithfeathers, so that I feel appreciated in turn.

As @the-winnowing-wind said, this is a beautiful day to flail about our incredible fandom. To whomever still has to come, You’re welcome. To whomever is still here after all this time, Thank you. You made so many of my days.

[randomnessunicorn-imagine]

🌠 STAR TREK- FANFICTION 🌠

This is my first Star Trek fanfiction and I truly wanted to write something about it even if it’s nothing special but I could not resist! I'm trying to emulate the best I can the style of the classic episodes of Star Trek. Some elements of this fanfiction have been invented by me. This story will be composed by some chapters, it’s better this way. I accept every kind of advice as long as they are expressed with politness. I hope you can appreciate it and sorry if you’ll find some mistakes, it can happen, and the summer heat does not help me at all to think properly, I’m melting. By the way, good reading!

Don’t forget to tell me your opinion about and leave a like or share if you liked it, it would make the writer very happy.

FANDOM: Star Trek: The Original Series

PROMPT: The Collector [ by @badthingshappenbingo ]

WORDS: 1888

✰ THE COLLECTOR: first chapter ✰

Stardate: 41254.7.

 Captain's log: My faithful crew and I are traveling to a planet called Xenox Z. It will soon become part of the federation. We have been instructed to accompany their State Councillor to have some diplomatic discussion about their admission in the United Federation of Planets and to attend the ceremony. Our destination will be reached in ten terrestrial hours.

 The planet of Xenox Z was in an unexplored area of the galaxy and therefore, its entry into the federation would have allowed the exploration of new areas and the creation of new space colonies. This travel was extremely important for the achievement of an intergalactic peace between every living creature of this vast universe.

The legendary Enterprise was following the route to the planet Xenox Z, crossing corners of the galaxy that were still waiting to be explored but, despite the immense beauty of the stars and the infinite space, something disturbed the young soul of the Captain Kirk who was questioning himself about the strange message sent to him by the Starfleet.

This message informed the captain about the strange disappearances that were taking place in the galaxy. It was assumed that they were real kidnappings and someone was plotting against the Federation. Heads of state, generals and scientists disappeared under mysterious circumstances. Nothing was left of them, not even a trace. As if they had disappeared in cosmic space or sucked into a black hole.

Captain Kirk did not want to make his crew worried with his anxieties and he showed the usual grit and bravado that made of him the brave captain of today. This was not his responsibility and neither his mission since some experts have been assigned for this task by the Starfleet but the Captain could not ignore the danger of this situation.

"Mr. Chekov, have you calculated the route?" The captain asked, sitting on his throne as he watched the screen showing the immense spatial vault. A show that the captain would never tire of observing and that always filled his soul with pride.

"Route already calculated, Captain. We are traveling to the Xenoxian space station.” The young Chekov answered professionally without taking his eyes off his machinery.

The current task of the Enterprise was to withdraw the State Councillor of the planet Xenox Z, who would have been the mediator of the communication between the human beings and the Xenonians because the language of this people was unknown to men. The State Councillor proved to be very interested and open to this work and very curious about the human culture as well.

A few minutes passed from the order of the Captain and everything seemed to proceed according to the calculations.

Mr. Spock was silent and focused on his work as usual, Mr. Chekov and his colleague Sulu were driving the ship and then Uhura received new messages from the Starfleet about their task.

"Mister Captain, a message from the Starfleet. They warn us that the Xenonian Councillor has arrived at the meeting place and is ready to be teleported.” Uhura notified the Captain.

"Tell them that we are ready to welcome our guest." The captain said firmly and then he stood up his chair, making his way with Mr. Spock, Dr. Bones and Mr. Scott to the transporter room.

Everything proceeded according to plan and yet, the thought of those poor men disappeared in enigmatic circumstances continued to torment the captain’s mind because he felt powerless in view of this cruelty.

All the missing men were important and successful elements of the federation, indispensable for this galaxy, but they were taken away by an unknown entity, perhaps a ravenous alien, a criminal who ran free to the galaxy. Whoever they were, they had to be stopped.

The doctor, who knew Jim more than anyone else, noticed the discomfort in his eyes. He was able to understand when his friend was emotionally hurt and therefore could not help but ask him what happened to make him so disquiet.

"Are you alright, Jim?" Bones asked before entering into the transporter room.

The captain turned, forgetting his worries because he, the great captain Kirk, could not be seen vulnerable in front of his men. He answered to him with a confident smile.

"I'm fine, Bones. Your profession makes you see disease everywhere, but thank you for your interest.” Jim said ironically, as he watched the transporter platform and then he looked at Scott, giving him the order to activate the teleporter.

"Energy, Mr. Scott." The captain ordered.

"Yes, sir." And Scott operated by actionizing the usual machine to make the transporter work.

From the beam of light of the transporter came out an humanoid alien with a bluish skin, a bald head and a blue goatee adorned his chin. They were rather short, and they wore a long grey tunic with long sleeves that covered their hands.

"Howdy, Terrestrial. I give you my greetings from the planet Xenox Z. I am the Councillor of Xenox.” Said the alien showing a bow. They appeared polite and friendly and they tried to emulate the human’s tradition. It seemed they appreciated the human race and so they tried to use the human’s vocabulary to impress their future allies.  

Then the captain approached the guest, followed by his subordinates.

“Welcome to the Enterprise. We’re glad you and your people have decided to be part of the Federation and we’ll do our best to make your trip comfortable.” Said the Captain in his usual proud tone of voice and then he turned toward his men, presenting them, “Let me introduce you to my first officer, Mr. Spock, my chief medical Leonard McCoy and the head engineer, Mr. Scott.” Everyone of them nodded as they were called by the Captain.

“I’m sure it’ll be a great journey. Hope you don’t mind if I take a look around. I find your starship extremely mesmerising. I’m always been interested in your culture, you are such an extravagant race.” commented the Councillor and the Captain smiled seeing how this alien looked more like a human than a Xenoxian. Evidently, they were trying to adapt themselves to this new cultural environment and actually, the Councillor has been the one to recommend to his own sovereign to take part of the United Federation of Planets.

“I’m glad for the interest you’ve got for our culture. Mr. Scott, why don’t you accompany our curious guest to a tour across the Enterprise before showing them their accommodation?” proposed the Captain and the alien seemed agreed with this idea.

“I’d be honoured, Captain.” They nodded and then they followed Scott to explore the mythic Enterprise.

The preoccupations that were consuming the Captain mind have been quell for some time and it seemed everything was going well.

Jim and Mr. Spock came back to the bridge, while the Doctor returned to his infirmary. Bones did not forget how the Captain looked like before the meeting with the Councillor, he understood there was something Jim was hiding but, since the physical condition of the Captain seemed perfect and he did not show signs of sorrow anymore, the doctor had no reason to worry. The captain was able to take care of himself better than anybody else in this vast ship.

This mission was important and the Captain took his duties very seriously. It was normal he wanted to make a good impression to his new guest and show how the human race was worthy and determinate to accomplish its responsibilities. Jim was the most brilliant human the doctor knew and so he got worried a bit much sometimes.

On the screen of the bridge appeared an unknown planet, one of the many unexplored planets that constituted this part of the universe. Nothing seemed to be a source of concern, for now.

"Captain. The engines have suddenly stopped working but no failure is reported in the system.” Chekov warned the Captain about the unexpected inconvenience happened.

"We are entering in the orbit of that planet, it seems, we are attracted to it, Mister." Sulu said this time.

"Bridge to Scott. Have you verified some failure in the engines? "Asked the Captain to Scott, calling him from the intercom.

"The engines do not seem damaged. They should work very well.” Scott explained, perplexed.

"Then find out what's wrong, warn me about the situation." The Captain ordered and then he closed the call.

"The atmosphere of this planet is out of the norm, Captain. Its gravity is attracting us to the core. It's like someone trying to force us to stay into its orbit.” Spock explained, calm and attentive as usual. Not even the slightest preoccupation could be perceived in him, even the Captain appeared controlled but his feelings were mixed with worries, the same worry he thought he had forgotten.

"What kind of planet is this?" Jim asked.

"The computer defines it as a class-K planet, arid and desert, but its characteristics are abnormal compared to the other known planets of the same class. No form of life seems to inhabit the surface of the planet. The computer only reveals an unidentified source of energy.” Mr. Spock said controlling the data in the computer.

"What kind of energy?" The captain asked, looking at Mr. Spock with a stern look.

"The energy of a living being, Captain." Spock nodded, moving close to Jim, admiring the planet being shown on the large computer monitor.

"So we're stuck here until Mr. Scott finds out a way to reactivate the engines?" The Captain asked, trying to hide his irritation. Mr. Spoke just nodded, because it seemed the only solution now: to wait even if this phenomena was very strange and that planet seemed hiding a secret.

It could be hypnotized that someone on that planet was interested in meeting the crewmembers, even if they did not know the source of that energy so the captain could not ignore the current problematic.

Maybe the only thing they could do now was exploring the surface of that planet and doing some research to find the cause of this block and to locate the entity hidden behind that energy, if it could be a threaten for the Enterprise, they had to understand and be ready to every emergency.

"Captain, someone is trying to communicate with us from the planet but the frequency seems to be disturbed. It is impossible to contact the sender.” Uhura warned the captain.

"That planet must not be completely uninhabited if they are sending us signals. Do you have any theories, Mr. Spock?” Jim asked to the efficient Spock.

"Theories, Captain? This planet possess some infrequent characteristics for a common class-K planet As if someone had rigged with the nature law of the planet.” Spock explained calmly and afterwards the Captain ordered to Spock to follow him.

"Prepare a reconnaissance team! You, Mr. Spock, and the doctor Mccoy will come with me. The entity that sent that message is located to that planet and, surely, they will know how to release the Enterprise from this block” The captain explained the plan and then he went with his men in the transporter room.

The entire group prepared itself to be teleported to the mysterious planet, aware of the unknown dangers they would find there.

 [ To be continued … ]

[leofemt]

Being a fic writer is a horrible, thankless, vain pursuit. This is an objective fact.

tl;dr: I prove it: on two opposing fic- for both of which this meta-writer vouches for the quality- less than 10% of readers left kudos, and less than 1% commented.

A few facts:

Let's take one fic. A Tiger & Bunny fic for a rarepair. Personally, I love this fic. This is the best fanfiction of all time. Every time I reread it, I end up in tears and almost incapable of finishing it. It's long, artful, and emotionally devastating. It should have a great reception, right? No.

This fic has been on ao3 for more than 5 years. In its time, it's gotten almost 2.5k hits- not bad for a rarepair. It's almost 80k words long. I can personally vouch for the quality. Do you see how many comments it has? 23.

Of course, this can vary by popularity of the subject matter you're writing for- I've written a 7k fic that has more individual comments than this, just because the pairing is popular- but generally speaking, this is the case. Let's turn to some statistical analysis.

What percentage of fic readers leave kudos? In this case, 145 out of 2483 readers who opened this fic left kudos. 145/2483=0.0584, so 5.8% of fic readers leave kudos. (This doesn't account for quality of writing or people who are just trying out a ship, but even that's not that large a margin.) 6% of your readers will take the time to click a button to say "I enjoyed this!". 6%. 

Of course, that can be the case for other forms of art as well, in which case you shrug and say, producing art sucks, viewers take what they want and leave, let's move on. (If I were to do an analysis of the difference in response to popular fanart-type artists, though, I would look at view vs rt statistics on twitter. One place where this differs is: profit. Making actual money. How many artists do you know sell some kind of merch, or have a patreon, or do commissions? Probably a good number of relatively popular ones. How many writers do you know sell hardback copies of their fic? None, probably, unless you personally know EL James. How many writers do you know who actually get commissions? I don't know about you, but I can think of maybe 3 off the top of my head. Visual art is much quicker to consume than written art, and much easier to propogate, since it takes little effort to take in. How many visual artists take open requests on their blogs, instead of commissions? How many writers? A clear pattern starts to emerge.)

And now we move on to the most depressing part- comments. Of course it means a lot whenever someone comments, even if it's a few words of encouragement or telling the author you enjoyed their work. What percentage of fic readers leave comments? This example fic has 23 comments. 23 comments after writing almost 80k words, and I know for a fact that 3 of those comments are mine. This author doesn't reply to comments (which is relatively common, and don't take it personally- it doesn't mean they don't take your words to heart), so this is 23 individual readers who expressed their appreciation for this work. 23 comments out of 2483 hits: 23/2483=0.00926, or 0.93%. Less than 1% of readers left comments on this 80k behemoth of a fic. And 13% of that less than 1% is me. 

Of course, you can say, how do you know an abnormally large amount of people didn't just open this fic, decide it wasn't for them, and close it again? Maybe this is the Spider Georg of fanfiction. This is not the case, but if you propose the challenge, I will prove it to you. 145 readers enjoyed this fic enough to read all the way to the end to leave kudos. Don't forget that this is only a little less than 6%. 23 comments out of 145 kudos-leavers: 23/145=0.1586, or a little less than 16%. Of readers who liked this fic enough to leave kudos, 15.9% liked it enough to leave a comment. On normal fics, a comment isn't even that long- probably a sentence or two, unless the commenter is particularly moved, or happens to be me- and only 16% of the 6% that deigned to leave kudos decided to leave one. For an 80k word fic. I haven't even looked to see how many of them are followers of the fic who had commented on multiple chapters as they were published. 

What kind of response can you expect for your work, you ask? Surely, if I'm good enough, you think, the praise will come flowing in. Surely, you say, others will see the brilliance of my idea. Tough shit, Pinocchio. Writing sucks. Readers suck. Writers grovel for any kind of recognition of their work. On this fic, 23 comments were left on a total of 78491 words. 23/78491 is such a small number that my calculator went into scientific notation to try and figure out comments per word. The number is 0.000293 comments per word. Of course, no one expects a comment per word, so let's extrapolate a bit- let's see how many comments this fic got per 1k words. 0.000293*1000 is 0.293, or about .3. Less than a third of a comment per thousand words- and remember, average comment length is a couple sentences, or a series of emojis, or, "I like this!!!!! Thanks <3", which takes the average human maybe twenty seconds to write. Despite this, and despite the fic having nearly 2500 hits, only 23 users commented. 

And 3 of them were me.

If this doesn't convince you of the futility of writing, and that if you are a fan-content writer, or want to be one, not to base your writing's worth on the amount of comments or make yourself miserable catering to the whims of the masses, I don't know what will. For balance's sake, let's observe another case study. The fic I think is my most popular one- the aforementioned 6.6k fic- was written in 2016, over the span of a week and two days. It's for a popular pairing in a popular fandom.

8110 hits?! You shriek. For less than 7k words? While that other masterpiece, by a writer far greater than you, had only a measly 2.5k hits?!

Let me calculate it- this fic recieved 8110 hits for 6633 words: 8110/6633=1.223 hits per word. That's more than a hit per word, which is outrageous, but that's beside the point. This statistic in itself should convince you that popularity as a writer is based not on your actual talent or skill but on both the whims of the massless entity dubbed "the readership" and the objective popularity of your subject matter. Writing blows. Writing for an audience blows. Never write for anyone but yourself, if you choose to write at all, and if you do, do not be disheartened by a lack of reception. Readers take writers for granted. This is a given fact. 

I'll do the same calculations I had done in the previous case study. In this case, of 8110 hits, 745 users decided it was good enough to leave kudos. (Again- this is literally the act of pressing a button. Not too strenuous, though appreciated.) 745/8110=0.0919, or 9.2%- so performing a little better than the 80k rarepair fic, though not by much. This is still <10% of readers. 

Further, on the subject of comments- this fic garnered 33 comments, none of which I, the author replied to, just like the case of the previous fic. 33 comments from 8110 hits: 33/8110=0.004069, or 0.41%. What does this mean? This means that, firstly, larger viewships are sometimes a curse, because of something like the bystander effect- more popular ships means more material by other amazing authors, and less focus concentrated on one work- and secondly, this statistic is no different from the first case. Unless a fic gets wildly popular in itself, and becomes a staple and a brand-name and all those other things, you can expect little to no return on any investment you put into writing. This is a terrible fact and a solid truth. 

Readers are thankless, insatiable, demanding consumers who take for granted that the stories they crave will be there, prepared for them, and give little thought to the author behind the characters. Of course, this is the case in the professional writing industry as well, which is why writing is an undertaking that can only be undertaken with one purpose- something within the author that compels them to write. Writing sucks. Objectively, if you're looking for ways to be validated in your work, it's a waste of time, and sometimes I wish I could take all the fanfiction archives on the internet down for a day or two, just to see readers panic. People take for granted what has always been there. Don't write unless you want to.

Readers- the consumers I've bashed so thoroughly- if you are a fic consumer, and you've read all the way to the end, I implore you- show some gratitude. If you are someone who regularly leaves kudos and comments on fic you love, congratulations. You're probably some writer's favorite person. If not- well, I don't have much to say to you. Books should be free, but fan content writers write for less than free- they write at a loss. Appreciate them, just a little. Every time I see a writer groveling for a handful of comments, the lack of respect for something so many people claim they "love to read" and "don't know what they would do without" makes me hate "the readership" even more. Being a writer is a thankless, horrible, useless pursuit, because few people care deeply enough to do more than consume the content and leave- you can make it not so much so, just a little bit. Just a few words, and you could bump that comments button up a number. You could be the reason that percentage improves. All it takes is to give back, just a little, to the people who provide you your fan-content for free, at the expense of their own time.