#fanfic I'll never write but I had to summarize and share

[android-and-ale]

AU Where Spock Lives Out Both Sides of a May/December Romance

I had an angsty A.U. idea drop into my head where Spock gets to be on both ends of two different May/December romances. Since I am all about lighthearted shenanigans right now, I’m putting it out there for anyone else to use, in whole or any bits and pieces you like. 

TL;DR - The timeline here has changed so Pike and Kirk are separated by 50 years. 

Spock meets Pike when Spock is in his late 20’s and Pike is in his 50’s. They end up together for the rest of Pike’s life. 

After Pike’s death, Spock is only in his late 70’s, which is still younger than Sarek was when he married Amanda. He goes back to the last place he felt belonging and contentment before he met Pike, which, of course, is Starfleet. Within a few years, he’s risen in the ranks to become the Chief Science Officer of the flagship, the Enterprise. A brash young Captain takes over. Kirk is 50 years his junior, not to mention his CAPTAIN, but despite his best efforts to resist, there’s a spark between them. 

THE ANGSTY DETAILS:

The biggest difference here is Pike and Kirk’s personal timelines. Instead of their service overlapping, they’re decades apart. 

Spock meets Pike fresh out of the academy and there is an instant mutual attraction. Since he’s not a predator, Pike decides OH HELL NO, this kid is way too young for me. Meanwhile, Baby!Spock has just ended things with T’Pring and is entering his Slut Era. Pike resists Spock’s charms for a couple of years, but during an away mission gone wrong when they both think they’re going to die in the next hour, they end up furiously making out and giving each other handjobs. 

When they’re rescued Pike says listen, kid, that can’t happen again. Spock is prepared for this. He makes a PowerPoint outlining why this relationship is logical. They’re intensely compatible, mutually attracted, and frankly, their lives will only overlap for a maximum of five years. After all, they both know Spock is on a fast track to being promoted to X.O. of a science vessel, and later his own command. Let us acknowledge the fleeting nature of time by embracing this all too brief opportunity to be mutually beneficial to one another. 

Pike tells himself he’s going to hell for this - a lot - but gives in. 

Over the next decade, Spock does get promoted up to Chief Science Officer, and eventually also steps in as X.O. when Pike’s Number One is offered her own command. Starfleet repeatedly tries to give Spock his own ship, but he’s happy where he is, at his Captain’s side. Life is good. 

And then Pike’s accident happens. 

Starfleet Medical says it’s bad. Really bad. There’s no brain damage, but his body is a ruin. He’s going to spend the rest of his life essentially with locked-in syndrome, only able to communicate with the outside world in a very slow binary. 

Spock calls bullshit. Instead of taking Pike to Talos IV like he did in The Menagerie, he contacts Una and asks for the biggest favor of his life. Transport both of them to Illyria and put him in touch with people who can use their genetic engineering technology to help Pike. 

Una says she’s so glad he called, because if he hadn’t, she was planning to kidnap Pike herself for that very same reason. As soon as they touch down on Illyria, Spock resigns his commission so he can be there for Pike. 

Pike spends the next two years on Illyria getting treatments and therapies. Eventually, they’re able to restore his hearing to 70% of what it was, his vision to about 20/80 (so now he wears sexy glasses), his VOICE, and a limited amount of his mobility. He’s still disabled, but he has autonomy again. He’s able to get himself in and out of his wheelchair, and even take a few steps when absolutely necessary, but he’s never going to walk unaided. He needs at least 10 hours of sleep a night to be fully functional, but when he’s awake, his mind is as sparkling as ever. 

Because of the differences in how much sleep they need, Spock ends up living two lives. When Pike is awake, he’s the center of Spock’s world. When he’s not, Spock maintains a thriving part-time career in the sciences. As far as he’s concerned, this is a very satisfying have-your-cake-and-eat-it-too compromise. 

Pike tries to tell Spock to go back to Starfleet. Pursue his own command. Stop wasting his time with a disabled old man. Spock tells him sorry, it’s too late for that. I told Starfleet we were married in order to get access to your hospital room, and Una backed me up. I meant to tell you, but we’ve been busy, you know, kidnapping you then performing illegal medical aid. According to Starfleet paperwork, we’ve been married for the last 3 years. Our anniversary is in March, and Una will be throwing us a party. Do you really think I would break Starfleet’s (very human-history-centric) laws and bring you here in the first place just to abandon you?

Because of Starfleet’s draconian anti-genetic-engineering laws, Pike essentially loses most of his citizenship rights. He and Spock give zero shits. Sarek steps in and says hey, your husband has a lot of diplomatic experience, having been Captain of the Flagship, and you Spock grew up in my shadow. Let me set the two of you up in a new career. Spock and Pike become a well trusted power couple, frequently sought out by anyone needing fair and impartial diplomats. 

They stay together for the rest of Pike’s life. 

And then, in the worst year of Spock’s life, within three months he loses both his human husband and his human mother. 

He knew this would happen. Human lifespans are so much shorter than Vulcan ones. On top of that, Pike was well into middle age when they met. That doesn’t make it any less devastating. 

He’s only in his 70’s, which for Vulcans is pretty young. Sarek didn’t marry Amanda until his 80’s, and it’s not uncommon for Vulcans to put off starting a family until they’re over 100. Everyone he meets tells him he’s young enough to start his whole life over, and he wants to punch them all. 

The only person who understands is his father. 

Both he and Sarek are devastated. They lean on one another in their grief. After a year, Sarek asks Spock what was his last happy/contented memory before he met Pike. Spock tries to deny it, but when he’s finally able to be honest with himself, the answer is Starfleet. He spent years there before he met Pike, and was well on his way to what everyone expected to be an illustrious career. Sarek says perhaps you should go back there? It’ll be different than it was decades ago, but that too is a good thing. 

Una’s still around. Illyrians have longer lifespans than humans, though shorter than Vulcans. When he asks her advice she says if he didn’t bring Starfleet up soon she would’ve. She’s already reached out to her many contacts in the fleet about putting together an unofficial refresher course so Spock won’t have to go through the academy again.

He buries himself in taking virtual, updated versions of academy classes, and uses his diplomatic assignments on a variety of ships as an excuse to get a real world refresher in modern ship design and culture. When he’s satisfied, he gathers his new transcripts and references and sets up a meeting with an admiral (because he’s the kind of diplomat who can casually do that). They agree to put him on a smaller vessel to get his feet wet again, but with full understanding that he will absolutely be able to rise quickly in the ranks if Starfleet is still a good fit for him.

He spends a year on a science vessel, then a year on an exploration vessel, then is offered the position of Chief Science Officer of the Enterprise - the very post he left when Pike was injured all those years ago. Yes, Sarek and Una are absolutely pulling some strings in the background, but Spock rises to the occasion. 

He’s missed this more than he would admit to himself while Pike was still alive. His duties bring him contentment and peace - but also excitement and adventure. He has no regrets about the decades he spent with Pike, but now his One True Love is space. 

A few years into his service on the Enterprise, the ship gets a brash new captain - James T. Kirk. And god dammit, there’s a spark. Kirk likes what he sees, and flirts mercilessly. Spock tries to tell himself he’s not into it, but deep down, he isn’t sure how long he’ll be able to resist. 

At this point, Spock is 50 years Kirk’s senior. He desperately wishes he could talk to Pike again. Pike would laugh his ass off at Spock getting his comeuppance. Now you know how it felt, all those years ago, when you were a tasty morsel who wouldn’t take no for an answer! On nights when the chess games with Kirk feel a little too intimate, he listens to Pike’s Captain’s Logs from the years when he was resisting Spock’s advances. This mirroring of their lives makes him feel closer to his dead husband. 

Spock gets the biggest shock of his life when his father announces he’s not only remarrying, but taking another human wife. 

Spock rages at him. How can you do this to yourself AGAIN? 

Sarek points out that first, the very few Vulcan widows his age do not want him. Second, he’s used to having a human around. And third, at his age, he and his wife will actually grow old together. Their estimated remaining lifespans are within a decade of one another.

He reassures Spock that yes, he would’ve preferred to grow old with Amanda, but he always knew that their lives together would be cut short. Being with her as long as he could was still worth it. Then he tells Spock not to let the pain of his loss prevent him from seeking out future happiness. That’s not what Pike would’ve wanted. Or Amanda. 

Sarek has seen Spock and Kirk together on assignment, and he knows a lot of Spock’s anger is because he’s repressing his own feelings. He points out that with modern medical technology, if Kirk can avoid getting himself killed in the line of duty, he could realistically expect to live another 70+ years. It’s not a perfect alignment with Spock’s aging trajectory, but they could reasonably expect to be middle aged together for decades. 

Spock says there is no damn way he’s getting involved with another human. The heartbreak isn’t worth it. He’d rather spend the rest of his life dedicated to science. He’s had his Romance Era and now that part of his life is over. 

Until one day, he and Kirk are on an away mission gone wrong. They’re trapped in a cave, and realistically believe that they have less than 4 hours left to live. Kirk says hey, we’re going to die, we should give in to this UST. Spock protests he’s too old for Kirk. Kirk laughs and says they’re both going to be dead in four hours, so who cares? Let’s live a little before we die. 

Spock remembers being the one who said the same thing to Pike. He’s hit with an overwhelming sense of deja vu as he gives in and lets Jim kiss him for the first time. He’s terrified of opening his heart again, but when Jim says his name like a prayer, he thinks yes, I could do this for the next 70 years. It’ll be worth it. He kisses Jim back, and in that moment it feels both like coming home and the start of something new. Losing this man will break him, but not as badly as turning away from a lifetime of love. 

[curedeity]

HAPPY FANFIC FRIDAY YALL! Since artfight will be starting soon, I'll be taking a break from fanfic friday. I decided what better way to celebrate this new hiatus than to draw one of my own fics!

This scene comes from "Gasher's Dilemma" one of my earliest and most popular beyblade fics. I really think it is the first fic people really knew me by, and the one that stuck with people the most in my early days in the fandom. And I'll be honest, it is a pretty good encapsulation of my image.

Despite what this art might look like, this is not actually ship art. This isn't supposed to be that romantic of a moment at all (though I get that interpretation), and is one of the ones that stuck with me most upon rereading this fic. I'll be summarizing more later, but this scene is supposed to be a show of solidarity from Madoka to Hikaru as they both deal with their identity as women.

"Gasher's Dilemma" is a tough fic for me to look back on. If you haven't read it yet, I'd like to encourage you to, as it stuck out from my others for a reason. It is an in-universe exploration of sexism, and I think still interesting in that regard. At the same time, the fic is (I am knowingly exaggerating here) a flaming piece of shit in dire need of a rewrite or three.

I'll now be explaining the fic, explaining the scene I depicted, and then giving my thoughts and rambles about the fic below the cut. Thank you for humoring my amazing self-indulgence.

"Gasher's Dilemma" is a fic from Madoka's perspective that serves as an in-universe examination of the sexism in beyblade. It is structured through a scene of Madoka with each girl in the series, up to Sophie. The girls will pass off advice to one another, or rant about their own treatment and the emotions that's causing them. This structure is pretty important, because it centers the focus on all the girls, allowing for a narrative of community and solidarity to shine through. It deals with a lot of themes, but specifically the feeling that you are not doing enough to break stereotypes, that you are the problem, that you are only this way because an outside oppression has shaped you to be so.

The scene depicted here is from after Madoka and Lera talk. Lera is the first girl Madoka encounters in the fic to be more confident about her place as a woman. Lera calls out the sexism she experiences, showing she knows it is someone else's fault, not her own. She encourages Madoka to ignore it, and continue her passions confidently. This leads Madoka to remember Hikaru, who is so scared she is letting people down by stepping away from blading, and encourage her to stop worrying about others thoughts and expectations. She will never be good enough to change the mind of a sexist, so she should only focus on being happy as herself.

It's an important show of solidarity, that even as Madoka is finding herself more and more unsure, she reaches out to the women she knows to share their words, and try to improve together. It is about telling people what you need to hear, and also genuinely wanting the best for them.

Its an emotion that really sticks with me when leaving this fic, as it reminds me of the good experiences that inspired this fic.

"Gasher's Dilemma" is one of the more specifically inspired fics from my own life that I've ever written. At the time of writing this, I was thinking back on my high school gym class. It was only for a semester, but it really destroyed my self-esteem as a woman in a way nothing had before (and I did martial arts throughout all my years in school, played basketball in elementary, and never had a problem with gym).

At first, the gym class was normal, this was during the sports that could be considered more feminine. But then we switched to more physical games like soccer, and it all changed. We would start class by getting into teams, and there would be 2 girl teams, and 3 boy teams. Then, the gym teacher would pair up the three boy teams and the 2 girl teams, and set the girl teams against each other for the entire class period, not rotating us out.

What was the worst thing is he made us agree to it each time. He asked us and we always agreed that we were fine just going against each other. I always agreed.

It made me feel like shit, to tacitly admit i "wasnt good enough" to go against the boys because of my gender. Especially when i didn't believe that at all. I had never particularly struggled going against boys, not anymore than against girls. But as class went on, I found myself believing it a bit more, and hating myself for that.

It created a pretty bad environment too, a lot of girls were ticked off at the situation, and occasionally would mutter about blaming others. The boys, many of whom I'd known for years and many who I'd never had problems with, also started trusting us less. Whenever gym was brought up, the girls would always have a gendered issue to complain about, normally even a bit tiredly and anxiously, like we didn't even fully comprehend the situation yet.

But even then, we all still stuck together. I had many friends who sympathized with what was going on, and would commiserate, even if we were still working out. We would encourage each other, or just be there through the situation. It's that solidarity that is key in the structure of this fic, and this drawing.

I think it was these clearly personal feelings I was working through in this fic that resonated with people. It's why, even now, I'd still encourage people to read it. I know it connected with people, and I'm glad.

The fic is a mess though.

I reread it every so often, and am struck by how lazy my style is in this fic. The scenes are far too short, and the character work is still a bit wonky because i havent written these characters much. The narration is bland and there is so much work to be done on it. I critique this so much because I know I am a writer who could do better, who could execute this idea better.

Not to mention, there are elements thematically in the fic I'd change. While I've come to the realization having a narrow focus would still help, my gender commentary is pretty lacking. It doesn't really bring trans realities into the picture, and understanding just how constructed gender is makes for a better social commentary. It doesn't comment on the realities of race at all. It's, overall, a critique that could still use some work.

I'd also want to add Selen and Motti in. They weren't there because I didn't know how to add them initially. Both of them stick out even among the small cast of girls. The Garcias have so much to critique in their portrayal, and Motti is almost a joke character. I would've struggled to integrate both originally, but now I have thorough ideas of how they'd lend themselves to Madoka's journey and the themes of this fic.

Basically, it's a fic I really want to rewrite someday, because the idea still speaks to me after all this time. This is a fic and a subject that means a lot to me, and maybe I should return and reexplore these memories. But if any fic deserved to be the first fic of my own I drew for fanfic friday, it would be this motherfucker.

[dsudis]

12 and 16 for the fanfic writer's asks!

12. How does receiving or not receiving feedback/support impact you?

I am definitely susceptible to both! Having someone interested in and excited about a story makes me a lot more eager to work on it, and that sound of crickets chirping will convince me that it's not worth it (although it can take longer to get through with some stories than others--a lot also depends on how excited and invested I am in a story or idea myself, naturally).

16. How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Share one of them?

So one reason I feel slow as a writer sometimes is that I can pretty much never just write one thing, unless it's very short. I'm always juggling several, and trying to force myself to focus on one thing rarely works well. So I'm currently working away on the next chapter of When Two Become One, and a followup to England and Nowhere (Never and Always) (and thinking about what other followup(s) I might want to write), and the next story of Never Refuse You, and the smol/de-aged Dream story, and what was meant to be a quick little PWP that is dragging its feet, and after a chat with a friend tonight I'm rotating a new kinky Dreamling idea in my brain...

Anyway! Here, I'll share a bit from Chapter 4 of When Two Become One, in which 1489 Hob gets a slightly different reaction despite being very fundamentally the same 1489 Hob we know and love...

Dream asked Hob what he himself had been doing, this hundred years, and after airily summarizing what must have been decades of his life as "soldiering, mainly" and "a little banditry here and there" he began to speak about his new line of work. "It's called printing," Hob said, as if the mass reproduction of text were not the most exciting development this part of the world had seen in hundreds of years, as if it had not figured in the wildest dreams of the brightest minds for generations. "Don't need to be a guild member, not yet," Hob went on, as if the sheer attainability of the work mattered more than the wondrousness of the development he was playing a role in. "Never be a real demand for it," Hob went on, full of the confidence of a man who was utterly wrong, "and it's hard work, but--" Dream entirely lost the end of whatever absurdly idiotic thing Hob was saying, caught up in the horrible realization that, one the one hand, his husband was as foolish as he was cheerful, and very literally on the other hand, the black flecks visible here and there on Hob's well-scrubbed skin were ink. These were the marks of stories that had gotten quite literally under Hob's skin, because he was engaged in the most important, beautiful work anyone on this continent was doing in this century. Dream wanted to kiss him so badly it hurt--and if he did, then Hob would stop talking. Hob had trailed off into silence and was watching him with wide eyes, a flush starting to rise on his clean-shaven cheeks.

[Fanfic writer ask meme questions here!]

[nokingsonlyfooles]

Nobody Goes to Hogwarts (Yes, the frog writes fanfic)

If you don't want a vicious Harry Potter deconstruction, do not click. I am serious, this is for your own mental health, angry fans. If you yell at me, you will boost my content with the algorithm. I don't want your attention and you don't want me to be seen, so our goals align. Just walk away.

I started this during Rowling's meltdown, for funsies, and then it got so bad that I quit. This was always meant to be a critical take on the Wizarding World, but I decided it was better not to name-check its author or prod the hornets' nest of her offended fans. So I did one and only outlined the rest. I got hit with a poll asking if I'd ever written fanfic, and I'm thinking about how people get discouraged and stop sharing their work, so now I'm putting it out here anyway. Potter's not going away, so we might as well deconstruct the hell out of it.

These are my characters from my story, which is firmly post-Potter. I put them in her world to see how badly people like them would frig it up. I'll write the rest if anybody want's that - it's fun for me! let me know! - but I'll summarize at the bottom, for the curious.

The one I wrote is for Hyacinth, and it's set in 1945 - they are wizards, so I had to spread their ages out a bit. (I don't really know how living for hundreds of years works in Potter, and neither does Rowling, so just roll with it.) She would've been a Hufflepuff, but she never got sorted, and this is why:

Barnaby leaned against the doorway and folded his arms. “Running away from home are we?” he said. “That’s a lovely hat for it. You look as if you’re about to deny the murder of your third husband.”

“It’s Tabby’s.” She adjusted it. It gave the abstract impression of a black swan with lace trimmings and a veil. “And I am not running away,” said the little blonde girl with the suitcase. She balled up another pair of stockings and stuffed them inside. There was also a full load of comic books, a painting of a bullfight, and she seemed to be stealing one of David’s smaller musical automatons, but she had neglected to pack any dresses. She wasn’t wearing one either, but she had put on a simple linen slip and some shoes and stockings, along with the hat. “I am going to school. I got my letter.” She held up the envelope.

The gentleman plucked it from her fingers and regarded it. “Hogwarts. Aren’t you a little old for Hogwarts, Alice?”

“My name is not Alice. They said it’s all right because of my injury.” She knocked her hand on the side of her head.

“I suppose this is your parents’ doing?”

“Beats me, and I don’t think I care,” she replied. “If I need anything signed, I’ll put David’s name on it. One of his names, anyway. He taught me how to sign all of them. I’m stealing some of his money, and I’ll stop by Diagon Alley and buy myself a wand. I don’t think he’ll notice.”

“I don’t think he’ll notice the money, but he might notice when you don’t show up for dinner a few days in a row.”

She shrugged. “I’ll write him.” She paused with her hands in the suitcase. “Do you think I ought to have an owl? I don’t know if I’m really an owl person. I suppose a cat wouldn’t carry a letter, but how about a kangaroo? You know, with the pocket.”

“I don’t know, but I’m sure David would be happy to buy you one if you gave him an excuse, so please refrain.” He sat on the bed next to the suitcase and held up the letter. “You do know I went to Hogwarts, don’t you? Briefly.”

She closed the suitcase and set it on the floor. “I thought you and David were Beauxbatons boys.”

Barnaby winced. “Yes. Although I’m not sure David was authorized to be there, he may just have decided he wanted to go and showed up. If I’d read my tea leaves a little more closely, I might’ve stayed at Hogwarts and left him alone, but I don’t think I would’ve been very happy there. I doubt anyone is capable of bossing you around and I’m not about to try, but I don’t think you would be happy there either, Hyacinth.”

“What? Because of their stupid hat? I’ve got a better one.” She tugged on the veil. “Maybe they’ll fall in love and have baby bonnets. Besides, I don’t care if they put me in Slytherin. I don’t mind being evil. I’ll make the best of it. David does.”

“I think you’re more Hufflepuff material, but it’s not that,” he said. “Do you know they have house elves at Hogwarts?”

“House elves?” said Hyacinth, blinking. “Plural? Just two or lots?”

“Lots,” Barnaby said, nodding.

She began to grin. She clutched both hands to her face and then threw her arms in the air and cried, “Hooray!” She spun a joyful circle. The veil lifted away and her hair flew. “They can’t do any schooling at all if they’ve got multiple house elves, Barnaby! Why didn’t you stay? Were they more annoying than David?”

He sighed. “I never saw them, Hyacinth. Not one.”

She planted both hands on her hips and leaned forward. “Barnaby, I know you’re dumb, but you’re not dumb enough to let multiple house elves whiz past you. Don’t you even remember stepping over their weird art projects? Were they all into transcendental meditation or something quiet?”

Barnaby pointed at her. “You think all house elves are like Tabby and Herringbone, don’t you?”

Hyacinth took off her spectacular hat. “Well, I’m not racist, Barnaby. I don’t think they all paint matadors and do fashion design, but they’re both very single-minded and odd and proud of it. David would only want the best house elves around. Is there something wrong with the other ones?”

“Oh, dear-oh, dear-oh, dear,” said Barnaby. He shook his head. “This isn’t the sort of conversation I’d like to have sober, but Herring basically lives under the drinks cart when he’s not painting, and if we go into the kitchen Tabby is going to dress us and feed us — and I think they’d both be embarrassed to hear me talk about it. Hyacinth, let me sit here and explain about house elves and then if you still want to go to Hogwarts I’ll take you to Diagon Alley myself and we’ll get you a kangaroo. All right?”

She plunked down on the bed next to him and drew up her legs. Her expression was grave. “Well?”

“House elves are,” he began, and then he didn’t know how to finish. He looked up and pointed out the door, in Tabby and Herringbone’s general direction. “Well, first off, they are not like Tabby and Herring! They are quiet. They cook and they clean and that’s basically it.”

“What about in their off hours?”

“They don’t have off hours, Hyacinth!” He shook his head. “They claim they don’t want any. It’s cultural. That’s like an insult. And they don’t want money, and you can’t give them any clothes, that’s like firing them… Only it’s worse than firing them because…” He put his head in his hands and raked his fingers back through his thinning hair. “Let me start again: Hyacinth, house elves are property.”

“Don’t be stupid,” she said. “You can’t own a person.”

“But we don’t treat them like people and they’re fine with it,” Barnaby said. “I mean, Tabby and Herring aren’t — not anymore — but to the best of my knowledge they’re the only ones like that. My family had one as I was growing up and I barely saw her. And I’m the third child, so I won’t get her when my mother dies, my older brother will. A house elf is like a dinette set.”

He shut his eyes. “No, a house elf is like a slave, and they’re happy to be that way. When David gave Tabby and Herring clothes, they were miserable. They were ashamed. And they kept following him around anyway because they had no idea what else to do with themselves. They were like that when I knew him in school, two tiny people in perfect little outfits who lived under his bed and cried a lot.”

“Why did he dress them up if they didn’t want…” She put up her hand. “No, that’s a stupid question. He does whatever he wants, I already know that.”

“They usually wear tea towels and things and he thought they looked shabby,” Barnaby said. “I have no idea where he got them, you know how he is with his stories and they back him up no matter what he says, but he thought they looked shabby so he put them in clothes and they disintegrated. Emotionally. He told them he didn’t want them to leave and he’d take care of them as long as they wanted, but they didn’t believe him. He used to feed them.”

“What, like, with a spoon?”

“No, more like pets. He put plates down on the floor near his bed and every once in a while you’d see a wrinkly little hand come out and take something. The first time I saw it happen I damn near had a heart attack. I thought we had a gnome infestation or something. But he picked up the bedskirt and showed me his house elves. They even had little shoes — I mean, you know what they look like. They live here. But they’re not supposed to look like that. Tabby liked fruit salads. He used to steal them from the dining hall for her, but she’d only eat if she didn’t think we were looking.”

Barnaby sat back on the bed. “I’d known David ten years before Herringbone produced his first bullfight painting, and it was fifteen before Tabby sort of delicately asked if she could have a fashion magazine. And I have no idea how long he had them before I met him!”

“So the ones at Hogwarts just haven’t had enough time,” said Hyacinth. She frowned. “And maybe little shoes. Do they need me to bring them little shoes, Barnaby? I’m happy to do it. Tabby always says a new outfit can make you into a new person, but I thought it was a metaphor.”

“They wouldn’t take the little shoes, Hyacinth,” Barnaby said. “You’d have to force them, like David, and they wouldn’t thank you for it. They wouldn’t even consider themselves yours, so I’m not sure what they’d do. They might all march into the lake and drown themselves out of despair. They are happy being slaves and they don’t know anything else. There’s a reason Tabby and Herring don’t have any house elf friends, it’s not just their taste. They’re outcasts, because the others literally do not understand how they can be that way, and they don’t understand the others anymore.”

Hyacinth tented her fingers against her mouth. Barnaby was aware that he did this himself in his more pensive moods and felt oddly flattered. “So we have to wait until they have children, however long that takes, and make sure the kids grow up knowing they have choices and opportunities and they can go to Hogwarts too,” she said. “I think they all ought to have scholarships, Barnaby. And they should get their parents’ back pay!”

“Hyacinth, this has been going on longer than recorded history. If they do have children, and I assume they must, they end up just like the parents.”

Hyacinth slapped a hand on the mattress. It bounced. “But they live with us!” she said. “Why aren’t they forgetting their culture and picking their favourite bits of ours to copy? Like we stole Christmas and curry!”

“I don’t know, Hyacinth,” he said. “But nobody’s extremely keen to find out because they work for free.”

“So what we have here,” said Hyacinth, “is an entire race of people consigned to a lifetime of servitude, right up until someone decides to dress them in clothes, and then it’s like they wake up and they have no idea what to do, even though they’ve seen how other people live freely.”

“Yes, rather.”

“And they can, in fact, learn how to live freely themselves, but not until someone dresses them up, then it’s like they’re starting over from square one.”

“Yes.”

“As if they were under a spell,” said Hyacinth acidly. “Not unlike one of those curses that gets you locked up in Azkaban, except nobody does anything about this one because it gets them a free cleaning service?”

Barnaby rubbed his eyes with both hands. “You’ve put it a bit more bluntly than I would, but I still feel badly I didn’t do anything about Hopscotch.”

“This would be your house elf you grew up with?”

“Yes. I mean, to be fair, I had no idea Tabby and Herringbone were possible back then. It’s only since I’ve seen them grow up that I wonder about poor Hoppy, but I’m not allowed to go back and get her. Legally.”

“Because she’s property,” said Hyacinth, practically melting her way through the bed.

“She’s rather attached to my mother too, she does have feelings!” Barnaby cried. He sighed and looked away. “She’s a person with feelings.”

“We’ll wait until your mother dies then,” said Hyacinth, in a matter-of-fact tone that Barnaby found borderline offensive, but not as offensive as slavery. “But Hogwarts owns their elves and they could free them and pay for a good alienist anytime they wanted and they don’t.”

“I’ve written them letters but they never reply,” Barnaby said. “They printed the one David and I sent to the Daily Prophet but they called us both crackpots and sexual deviants.” He laid a dignified hand on his chest, “I am not a sexual deviant. I just don’t give myself airs when other people are.”

Hyacinth picked up the suitcase and threw it on the bed. “Looks like David will be paying for my private tutors at least until I’m old enough for the W.O.M.B.A.T.s.” she said. “I’m perfectly happy being held to a lower standard in education, I have better things to do than school, I just thought I might like a wand and a kangaroo. I’m glad nobody knows where the hell David came from with his money and my family is in no way respectable.”

“Your family is quite ancient and respectable, Hyacinth,” Barnaby said, blinking,

“Those twits at the estate in Devonshire are not my family,” Hyacinth said. “They decided they’d rather be respectable than have a matched set of daughters, so to hell with them. I’m going to go give Tabby and Herring a big hug!”

“Hyacinth!” Barnaby called after her. “If you don’t put on a dress, Tabby will tie you up and stuff you into one of hers!”

“This time, I’ll let her!” Hyacinth yelled back.

[Well, I think that formatted all right! As for the rest of the Hyacinth's House Mob: Barnaby got sorted into Ravenclaw in 1914 and got ejected for cheating - he made it obvious because he preferred the future where he ends up at Beauxbatons, little knowing it would include David. Room 101 broke the sorting hat with, er... his/her/their/it's abilities, in 1931. Mordecai fed a Malfoy a bar of soap on the train, was horrified wizards don't seem to know who Hitler is in 1933, stalled the hat, and fled in terror after being assigned Gryffindor. Sanaam (Ravenclaw, never sorted) ran into the Forbidden Forest to have a look at the animals, in 1950, and never came back. The General got sorted into Slytherin in 1952, contrary to her wishes, and demanded to know why they have an evil house, before choosing to continue her education with her abusive mother. Milo (Gryffindor, never sorted) got dumped in St. Mungo's in 1977, due to his significant issues, because Hogwarts doesn't do special education or accommodate disabilities. Calliope (Ravenclaw, never sorted) chose not to answer her owl for similar reasons in 1978, although her whole family is wacky so they don't parse autism and ADHD as disabilities. Maggie (Gryffindor, never sorted) also chose not to answer her owl after some discussion about the virtues of resisting the system from within versus refusing to participate. Erik got sorted into Slytherin in 1992, and was dragged home by a horrified Mordecai after writing one letter home about how all the "pureblood supremacy" wasn't much fun. Lucy got sorted Ravenclaw in 2000 and got dragged home by Calliope after writing one letter home about how there weren't any art classes. And, finally, in 2006, Dave (also a potential Ravenclaw) did not answer his owl for reasons which will become obvious, but are a bit spoilery for my readers. By that point, Hyacinth's house would have advanced owl defences anyway, so I might've been able to cite that as a quick gag without ruining the surprise.

But I haven't written any of that out for real. I will do so ONLY if you tempt me! I really wanted to do Mordecai's, that one would probably be the longest. "...Oh, I'm only a bit worried because I'm Jewish, that's all!" "What sort of a wizard is that?" "...It's a bit like an Animagus. When the stars are right, I have the ability to turn into a pastrami sandwich." "Let's see it." "Can't, I haven't had my Bar Mitzvah yet. ...Here, have another one of these Muggle candy bars, Mr. Malfoy."]

[sroloc--elbisivni]

🎈🍭🪄

🎈describe your style as a writer; is it fixed? does it change?

answered over here. i think my writing style is best summarized with a tale of two cities. well, two locations. when i was naming the domain the Hamato clan rules in spookyfic i went through a couple of phrases that i thought would describe the area well and settled on 'whispering forest' and then asked someone with experience with Japanese what my translation options were for kanji and picked 'shinshou' because i liked that it actually sounded like whispers. when I needed to name a space station in Alpha Centauri for bodice ripper I named it Alpha Horse. this is everything you need to know about me as a writer.

🍭why did you start writing?

answered over here, but I'll answer specifically for fanfic--I had an idea for a cool OC and i was SO sure that if i just wrote this down everyone else would love her too and think i was SO smart and SO good at this writing thing. this, of course, did not happen and i removed that story from the internet a couple years ago.

🪄what is your post-writing/sharing aftercare? How do you take care of yourself or celebrate yourself when you've finished a fic?

i've never considered this before! i just wander around cackling gleefully for a bit and squat over my email to see what people thought.

[nuclearforest]

Hello phrend. 😎 2deep4me writer asks:

What's the fic you're most proud of?

13. Do you take pride in your writing, or does it embarrass you? Why?

14. Do you compare yourself to other writers? In a positive or negative way?

15. How do you think your writing has improved over time?

Thank u for the ask!! Makes me very happy and lets me ramble abt stuff!

1, Honestly hard to say. Like, I'm proud of One Dog Night because it was the first thing I ever posted and like, really snowballed me into doing more and putting myself out there more. But on the other hand, Month to Love a Werewolf is the first multi-chapter piece I finished! And now Sirens' Guard Dog is on the way. I think those are my big three-- but as far as picking one goes?

It's really hard to say. I can't pick my favorite child lol.

13, Depends on if it is anon online or IRL.

Online? hell yeah i'm proud of being fully unhinged for my blorbo. almost at 350k in 2 years and like. ~300k of that is hans. my really sad sack awful blorbo who i love with all my little heart. stinky, stupid wolfman with a flair for the dramatic.

But IRL? I am a professional with a career you wouldn't catch me dead bringing up writing or fanfic in public. like, my folks asked me once over a holiday why I was on my laptop and what i was writing and i immediately had to bullshit that it was some stupid literary analysis to keep my skills sharp when, uh, it was really werewolf smut. very, very close to being busted but they aren't curious enough to press and i'm a fool not a coward.

THE ONLY EXCEPTION is when i am around those friends that are my enablers and don't care lmao. They think it's funny and it's on brand. Alternatively it's just one facet of the strange little gremlin they've let into their lives. I mean well--promise.

14, yeah. like, healthy or not i'm always out here comparing myself in both good ways and bad. some for learning new styles and tricks and broadening my horizons, but some for like. competitive purposes. and there's nothing to be competitive about but i've been in competitive schooling all my life and for a kid who grew up with little self confidence feeding on the praise of being "gifted" it really sticks with you. so there are many a conscious reminder that it's all for fun. that i shouldn't stress and that it's for me, even if some of that is a lie (i mean, come on--sometimes i'll write shit to brighten somebody's day but generally it's whatever catches my fancy).

but like, old habits die hard and i'm hungry for kudos and comments lmao. usually it doesn't get bad but if it does, i just bury my head in a different crafty pile of sand.

15, I HAVE A TIMELINE. we'll summarize it as exponential improvement and development tho lol.

nobody here will see the shit i wrote in middle school. we're talking paper journal self insert fic that i wrote chapters and chapters of (granted these were like, 100-ish words a chapter). talk about humble beginnings.

move to highschool and i have some fanfic and also a bit of OC work that I share in my school's creative writing club (bruh I STILL wasn't sharing fanfic).

in college I didn't write much. too busy under an engineering course load but i have a few things here and there. mostly fun little snippets of fluff to keep myself occupied.

but that said, now that i'm working and trying to live my best life, i've definitely gotten better in coherent plotlines, length, and fleshing out the details. i still have all the old stuff (even the paper journals, somewhere) and a decade+ later it's meteoric improvement lol. when i wrote One Dog Night that was the longest single story I'd written by a mile. and now i'm on a long chapter work i've updated weekly since i started it following an outline. i'm boggling my own mind.

but that said: i've always been creative and colorful, have not always been able to actually finish a story. funny enough, i've also never had a formal, regular beta and something tells me that won't change soon. (altho sometimes I do ask for a second set of eyes-- so thanks to y'all that have done it for me!)

can't wait to see how i keep growing!

[the-tactician-magician]

I saw this floating around so I decided to fill it out myself. :)

What’s your all time favorite ship?

If it isn't obvious already, Claude/Byleth lmao

How many works do you have on AO3?

45!

What’s your total AO3 word count?

724739 (save me from this hell)

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

The Lion's Reach (444 kudos)- A Blue Lions time travel fix-it fic that I stopped writing a long time ago but it's still my most popular fic rip

Under a Shared Sky (380 kudos)- My long-running Claudeleth harpy AU fic! Very proud of how it's turned out and how many people are invested in my niche AU lol

Hi Dragon, I'm Dad (147 kudos)- A manakete!Byleth story from Jeralt's POV. I would like to get back to this someday :3c

Tastes of Home (146 kudos)- A Claudeleth story that somehow got a lot of attention but I'm not complaining lol

31 Days of Flufftober (145 kudos)- Apparently the secret to getting a lot of kudos is posting for 31 days straight

Also just realized that the last three fics are very close in kudos count so this ranking might change soon lol

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

That would probably be Of Vermins and Ghosts, which is about Dimitri celebrating his birthday during the timeskip in a very lonely and somber way :(

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

Uhhh I could plop all of my Flufftober fics here but I'm going to answer with Cold-blooded instead. Most of my fics have happy endings honestly.

Do you write crossovers?

I've thought of a lot of them, but I've only published two so far. The first one is a Dedue-centric Voltron AU and the second is a Pokemon AU where Claude is Rayquaza. The latter was actually brainstormed by a discord server and I had so much fun writing it!

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Nope, thank god

Do you write smut? if so, what kind?

Nope, not my thing

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

One time, when I was like 13. It was your typical babby's first fanfic but it still got popular enough that someone reposted it to a forum *I was also on*. I don't think any of my recent fics have been stolen though, and I'd like to keep it that way.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not that I know of.

Have you ever co-written a fic?

I've brainstormed with a lot of people but never actually co-written anything.

What are your writing strengths?

I guess... Worldbuilding and dialogue? Once I get an AU stuck in my head, I spend way too much time fantasizing over it lol. Also dialogue is fun to write, especially if it involves Claude lol. I could also mention action scenes here, cause I'm one of the few people that likes to write those.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Making good endings, mostly. Still have trouble ending stuff without getting too rambly or flowery, though I'd like to think I'm getting better at it.

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

I don't mind reading it! But if I'm to write it, I usually just put in translated dialogue or summarize it. Maybe I'll actually make up a language someday but it will be a very barebones pretend language. :P

What was the first fandom you ever wrote for?

Tokyo Mew Mew...

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written this year?

This year? I've written a lot of fics I like this year, but if I had to pick one, I'm going to go with This House has Good Bones, an AU where Claude can see ghosts and befriends the ghost of Godfrey. It's a neat and heartwarming AU that I hope to write more of someday!

Feel free to fill out this meme yourself if you want too. :3