#fic writers you're welcome

[sunsetgloom]

Jedi High Council members as of 40 BBY:

FULLY CONFIRMABLE (7) Yoda (it's Yoda) Oppo Rancisis (has been there since 232 BBY, still present 32 BBY) Yarael Poof (see above) Eeth Koth (on the Council before Windu according to one source, appointed by 40 BBY according to Wookiepedia) Plo Koon (took over for after Master Tyvokka 44 BBY) Mace Windu (replaced Master Katri at 28, born 72 BBY, joined 44 BBY) Poli Dapatian (can confirm canonically on council at the latest of 41 BBY) PRESUMED (4) Yaddle (presumed due to age and lack of full rosters for prior years) Micah Giiett (died 33 BBY, was a Councilor up to that point, presumed on it for the 7+ years beforehand) Sifo-Dyas (no known join date that I could find, kicked off 33 BBY, presumed on it for the 7+ years beforehand) Saesee Tiin (stark hyperspace war veteran. nothing concrete other than that according to my notes :/) CAN SWITCH BETWEEN ANY (1+) Jor Aerith (died during Order 66 but was not on the Council during the Clone Wars as far as we know. Presumably she retired) Gretz Droom (Jor's padawan. Also not known to be on the Council during the Clone Wars but was a Council member at one point. Presumably retired) Tera Sinube (retired during the 40s. We don't know when exactly, but unlikely it was 40 BBY exactly. I just included him because I forgot about him entirely while trying to work out earlier rosters :/) Even Piell (ehhhhhh this one's iffy. He's definitely on it during TPM but nothing points to him being there before that but TPM takes place 32 BBY and Sifo-Dyas and Micah Giiett made the PRESUMED category so he's here too :/) Adi Gallia (see above) and there you go. all 12(+) Council members during the year 40 BBY

[starmocha]

So it turns out if you make Sylus say "my bride" in

Three

Different

Fanfics

In a row, you manifest an engagement 🤓

Do not question my clown logic the evidences are evidencing 🤡

[catzy88]

Butchlander Hanahaki Disease AU with Homelander who has always craved love, looking for it in all the wrong places, falling in love with his nemesis Billy Butcher who hates him and wants him dead. All the emotional hurt and angst in the world with Homelander's already unstable mental health declining further into deep depression and self-hatred. His physical health deteriorating slowly as well, because even the strongest supe alive isn't immune to the deadly flowers blooming inside him.

Butcher finds out and is gleeful, rubbing it in Homelander's face when they meet. Saying, that it's no wonder the supe has fallen victim to the sickness caused by one-sided love, because who could love a monster like him?

At this point Homelander is already quite far gone with the disease, and hearing the object of his love telling him that he's "an unlovable cunt" causes Homelander to start violently coughing and vomiting a blooming Trillium recurvatum. Looking up at Butcher with wide and terrified eyes, Homelander takes wobbly flight.

Naturally, Butcher doesn't recognize the crimson flower, coated with more crimson of Homelander's blood. But he takes a photo of the mess, and when he shows it to the Boys, they make a reverse image search.

Trillium recurvatum. Bloody Butcher.

And when all heads turn to look at Butcher, there's not much else to say than, "Fuck me", paired with a diabolical grin. Because Butcher just found a way to finally kill the worst supe cunt on Earth. And what a poetic way, too. Homelander destroyed the love of Butcher's life. Now Butcher's going to do the same to Homelander with his mere existence.

But a supe of Homelander's caliber doesn't succumb to any illness or ailment nearly as fast as a regular human would. So, there's a lot of time for Butcher to find more dirt about Vought, since getting rid of Homelander is only one part of dismantling the megacorporation.

So, one day searching an abandoded facility that looks like it had been a lab of some sort at one point, Butcher stumbles on a box with old VHS tapes simply named "John #001", "John #002", "John #003", and so on.

Butcher begins watching the first tape, where there's a small blond, blue-eyed baby that makes Butcher feel at unease. The feeling increases with every video as the child grows and is subjected to absolutely inhumane conditions and torture. And when the child finally gains blood red eyes, shooting lasers from them, there's no doubt about the child's identity anymore. John is Homelander.

Butcher's conflicted. Very conflicted. Because he has this image of Homelander as a ruthless and sick psychopath set in stone. But these videos have made his conviction waver.

So, after all the emotional hurt and angst (not depicted here, because I fail), there's a happy ending with Butcher having snatched Vought's crown jewel right under their nose, slowly warming up to the man known as John, finally returning his feelings, and becoming a real family with their son Ryan.

[infinite-orangepeel]

Oh my goodness - I love your writing, I haven’t stopped reading your stuff over the last couple days!!

Absolutely LOVE your new perv!Eddie x camboy!Steve - it’s absolute filth and I’m living for every second of it! The whole “pretty boy is small”, it’s so different and it has me feral, I’m I’m here for it all day and I’m almost sorry. And I know you said mentioned Eddie’s size - but imagine with me for a second this idea…

He’s a ✨big boy✨. Not necessarily long, but he’s thick and he doesn’t realise he’s bigger than average because he’s inexperienced. But then when pretty boy sees it… gets all whiny cause it puts a couple of his toy to shame.

Pretty boy needs two hands to stroke all of him; jaw is aching before he’s swallowed all of him; and the stretch…. The ✨stretch✨!!!!

(Totally understand if this was not your thing, or the direction you were hoping for this fic)

PT. 1 of the camboy!steve/perv!eddie fic on ao3

UM NO NO THIS IS ABSOLUTELY MY THING THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR SENDING THIS IN, I WILL ACCEPT MORE OF YOUR THOUGHTS AT ANY TIME......I'M DROOLING OVER HERE JUST GIVE ME A SECOND 🤤🤤🤤

okay now that i'm more composed *clears throat* let's explore this wonderful idea of yours together :)

(also i'm so glad you said this bc i've had monstercock munson on the brain for a while now so this just really hits the ball out of the park for me)

steve's been doing this camboy gig for a while now.

it's gone pretty well for him--all things considered. he makes a decent living off of it. he likes the attention. he gets to chat with cute strangers.

receiving unwarranted dick pics in his inbox comes with the territory.

he's seen everything under the sun in terms of variation in girth, length, color, cut/uncut, piercings, tattoos, hairy, clean shaven, etc. most arrive with no message at all or something like, 'i'm so hard 4 u.'

when he first started out and was trying to amass a following, he'd respond to every single one (no matter how gross or weird the messages got).

he'd take on the bratty bottom role--that he's since mastered--and numb any part of him that might have been too disgusted to continue. replying with a short and sweet comment like:

'hmm hot, but i've had bigger down my throat.'

'looking good, handsome. do you think you could handle me?'

'i'll cockwarm you until you're crying and calling me 'mommy.' '

however, as time passed and his following grew, steve realized he didn't have to respond to all of his messages if he didn't want to.

each week, he'd scroll through his overflowing inbox, select a handful at random, have a laugh at the desperate behavior occurring on the other side of the screen, and respond with one of his pre-set templated replies before automatically deleting the rest.

that was, until he met eddie munson over a quick video-call and realized keeping his emotions separate from his job was going to be much more challenging than he'd previously anticipated.

it's a friday night. steve finished his stream a few hours ago, got thai food for dinner with his best friend--robin--at their favorite local spot, and is attempting to wind down for the evening.

but, it's no use.

he's horny. his mind is an impure palace of need. his hands trail over his chest and tease the sensitive buds of his nipples while he tries to focus on the netflix documentary he picked at random.

steve's little dick throbs in his silk pajama shorts where he lays beneath the pink sheets, tossing and turning, with only one person on his mind.

his cock's wet between his legs--head slick and dripping down his hairy thigh with all the filthy ideas of what he'd like to do to eddie munson if he ever gets the chance to meet him in person.

he has no idea what eddie's working with physically. he can only imagine what may hide behind the confines of that shredded black denim.

not that steve really cares about the size of eddie's dick. in the grand scheme of things, he likes him and that's plenty. but, it is something he wonders about from time to time. especially recently.

see--steve's thought process goes a little something like this:

if eddie's as small as he is or even smaller, so be it. he'll teach him everything he knows about pleasure, frotting, edging, and more.

if eddie's average, like he claims to be, steve won't mind. average is perfectly fine with him. he'll be easy to swallow down and impress. he'll be easy to ride in a multitude of positions.

from what steve had seen of his personality, he can't exactly imagine eddie being huge.

he's a self-proclaimed loser, halfway through his twenties and still a virgin, wears graphic t-shirts with anime characters on them and has one of those intense gamer-boy headsets.

horneir than he's been in a while, steve rolls onto his stomach and grinds into his bed to try to relieve the tension building at his core.

he grips the sides of his pillow, cutely tucks his chin into the plush softness, and mouths at the fabric while he rolls his hips in grinding circles.

steve loves making out.

he loves making out with cock even more.

mouthing over a cute boy's boxers until he just can't take it anymore and cums in his pants. steve would bet money that he could make eddie cum in his pants that way. he'd pull up his jeans for him after and make him spend the rest of the day walking around town just like that. messy, deplorable, and sticky in all the right places.

steve makes himself cum in under a minute. images of eddie whining and calling him 'mommy' in muffled tones dancing like sugar plums around his delusional head. he soaks through the silk fabric of his pajama shorts and watches as a damp spot blooms in the middle.

he giggles to himself. smiles softly.

wonders if eddie would have any interest in sucking on the soiled material while steve sucks him off...

usually, he'd go right to sleep after one round, but his cock is still aching with curiosity despite orgasming, so he lazily stretches to reach for his laptop and grabs it from the nightstand.

coincidentally, he makes the split second decision to check his inbox before navigating to his favorite porn site 'lovebunny.com.'

he's planning on just clearing out the messages as he usually does, when something catches his eye and his heart skips a beat, runs a marathon, and ends up trapped in his throat where he wants the sender's dick to be asap.

to: prettyboy86

from: ethebanished

sent at 10:53 p.m.

hey steve,

hope ur having a good night.

idk why i'm sending you this. sorry. i've never sent anything like this to anyone before. bc i'm a virgin and i've never had the opportunity, but um. here it is. my dick...if u were interested in seeing it?

it's not much. probably looks small compared to what u normally see. idk. i'm also kinda high rn and my friend gareth is in the next room and he told me not to do this, but i thought maybe u would like it?

excited for ur stream tomorrow. i tried pineapple on pizza last night bc u said it's ur favorite. not bad. i actually rlly liked it.

'night,

eddie m.

attachment: 6edf45lp.jpg

steve's throbbing.

he's got a hand--he only needs one--around the entire length of his cock and he's twisting tightly around the head as he downloads the image to his computer and waits for the file to open.

he's vocal.

he's considerably vocal.

he's tipsy off of a couple glasses of rose from dinner and he's arching his back like he does when he's on camera, but this time it's genuine.

'gonna show mommy your cock, baby?' he moans highly as the image loads and he strokes himself faster, 'that's it. that's a good boy. mommy's pussy wants to milk you dry. drink up all your big boy cum for you. oh--such a good boy for me--you can handle it. deep breaths while i make you feel good, sweet thing. almost there, hold still for mommy-'

a jumble of random pixels becomes a full picture and steve harrington is a mewling, whimpering, slutty mess.

he's fucking his hand, he's rolling his balls between his palms, he's taste testing the last batch of cum that he squirted all over the inside of his tiny pink shorts. he's rubbing it up and down his shaft like lube. shoving some in his ass with two fingers, clenching hard, and closing his eyes so he can pretend eddie munson just finished inside him. pervy little virgin would cum so quick.

the picture is fucking perfect.

eddie's standing in front of--what looks to be--a bathroom mirror. the lighting's shit, but steve can see clearly enough. his red and black checkered pants sit around his upper thighs. unzipped and tugged down--chains dangling. eddie's holding his fat dick in one hand and snapping the photo on his phone with the other.

it's huge. it's practically unreal. wider than any of the toys steve has in his collection. his own hand doesn't fit around it and it's long enough to rest a solid few inches above his belly button. steve's horny brain tells him that the slap it would make against his abdomen would probably be quite loud.

there's a vein running from the underside of his shaft to the tip and the whole thing is dusky pink like his nipples. his balls are round, perky, relatively hairless. there's a thicket of dark hair that starts at his navel and spreads out over his pelvis. his v-line is defined and there's a tattoo steve can't make out on his hip. he's biting his lip and steve can't tell if it's because he's nervous or thinks it's sexy, but it's working for him either way.

it's everything he could have ever wanted.

he's so gone. he's babbling filth and cumming onto his keyboard which is going to be a nightmare to clean up, but who cares? one of his mindless followers will buy him a new one if he complains about it loud enough with a glittery dildo up his ass.

'mommy's never taken cock that big, baby. you're gonna have to be careful, give it to me nice and slow. oh it's so fucking big,' he groans thumbing at his slit like it's a clit, hard and fast, 'mommy's gonna have to keep you away from all the other boys so no one else finds out what a fat cock you have hiding in there. mmm. if only they knew, but i'll never let them because i'm gonna trap you in my pussy and cockwarm you until you promise to be mine.'

when he cums for the final time, he kisses the screen. licks it clean and saves the picture to a folder he has labeled 'work.' the nastiest part of him wants to make it his screensaver, but if eddie ever found out, he'd likely never talk to steve or watch his stream again and he can't risk that.

'you and i are going to have so much fun together,' he says before falling asleep with his laptop on his stomach and eddie munson's cock watching over him like an angel from a very sexy realm.

thanks for reading ! feedback is greatly appreciated so please let me know what you think if you enjoyed this one 🥰

taglist (message me to be added/removed at any time <3): @estrellami-1 @disastardly @thered-thread @ilovecupcakesandtea @asbealthgn @jjoesjonas @gay-little-bitch @carlyv @vampireinthesun @mcneen @corroded-coffin-groupie @livingoutload @a-little-unsteddie @anxiouseds @perseus-notjackson @malachitedevil @shrimply-a-menace @jhrc666 @they-reap-what-we-sow @three-possums-playing-human @lordrrascal @plutoshelm @gleek4twd @arkenstoned @eiddets @stevesbipanic @bestofbucky @pinkdaisies1998 @indiearr @bunnyweasley23 @novelnovella

[lauronk]

random recs on a friday

here i am with yet another futile attempt at catching up on the gazillion amazing fics in this fandom. taking a writing break for a couple days to reset my brain, so this is a long one. recs under the cut 💗

(this isn't even everything i still have so much reading to do this is a herculean task and you can expect more recs in a couple days probably)

move so quickly (it can't catch me) by @howtotrainyourdoofus - BALLET ELLIE ugh so phenomenal

next of kin by @probssomethingorother - oh my GOD? joel & sarah & sarah's mom prequel that had me IN TEARS

gasping at glimpses of gentle true spirit by @flowerpetvls - i am just setting out to hurt myself with these apparently?! oh my god?!

just babes being dudes by @ciaconnaa - ellie & jesse bromance, i die for you

magnetic susceptibility by @penandinkprincess - bye i loved this whole thing so much we all know how i feel about outsider POVs of joel & ellie

he shall provide by @bumblepony - joel taking care of ellie after silver lake, my one true love

midnight in texas by @boopernatural - astronaut ellie and i don't think i'll ever recover jesus FUCK

[tenthdocter]

Ok actually ONE MORE (but this was something I was meaning to ask anyway regardless of sleepover saturday stuff): Do you have any advice for people who want to start writing fanfic? I used to write original stories a lot when I was a kid, but I stopped around age 13 or 14 and just never started again. But lately I've wanted to give it another go, so just looking for advice! (And also on a more practical level: what do you use to write? Idk where to even type my story up. Google docs? Idk 🤷‍♀️)

Okay so firstly the first thing I'll say is don't worry too much about the plot and making actually making it good. Like of course you need to watch you grammar still and you have to have a basic story to it otherwise you could put people off reading it altogether. But you have to remember it's a fanfic! Not a novel. So you can get away with some silly writing if you want lol. A fanfic is essentially just meant to be a lot of fun. So have fun with it and write whatever you want! It's literally what you want to happen so don't worry about pleasing others. There's always gonba be an audience for whatever kind of fic you write. Also remember that pretty much everything has already been done before. Even more so if it's a popular fandom. So don't worry about using typical tropes/plot lines. People love to read the same fic but just done slightly differently. Remember it will have you own unique interpretation of it! Also reading other fics can definitely help. I read a pokemon one recently that inspired me to write the one i'm writing now. It can give you plenty of ideas that you can totally re-imagine with the characters in your fic and adapt it in your own way! So yeah to summarise... Just write it! Write exactly what you want/wish would happen in whatever fandom you're doing it for. And don't worry about "bad writing". As long as you have some basic enjoyable elements of a fic you're good. (I've read some fics that are very badly written but are still very popular lol. It's just how good the juicy bits are really! 😂) And yes! I use Google docs! I find that's the best for me. But there are alternatives you could use if that doesn't work for you

[ckret2]

Hello! I wanted to ask if you are still into hazbin hotel? I just finished reading your fic “A Cold Day In Hell” and I wanted to make art for it if you’re alright with that?

I'm always alright with anyone making art for all my fics at all times! Go right ahead, I'd be thrilled!!

[kakyogay]

normal about this fic...

[secret-engima]

since ao3 has that crappy corporate thing going on will you post your fics on another sight so people who don’t have ao3 membership can read it

Uh, sorry but no I will not ^^;. 1. because I have over 60 published fics at this point and I do not have the sanity for crossposting all that and 2. I don't have anywhere else to post it??? I'm not touching Wattpad with a thousand foot pole and I left ffn for a *reason*. 3. because this "corporate thing" is not just an ao3 problem. It's not even 100% confirmed (as far as I am aware) to be a problem *for* Ao3. It's companies scraping "free" writing archives to feed to their bots to teach them how to "write" which means that frankly any major fan fiction hosting site is in the potential crosshairs. I would argue that other places are even more in the crosshairs because they don't have a dedicated legal team that can and has gone to bat for its content creators before.

Also if anyone really wants to come read my fics while they are archive locked, it's really easy to join Ao3? And it's not like it costs a subscription to join or anything so....

[greyennui]

dear fellow writers,

for those of you who write in Google Docs, I have a tip for you: from the menu go to Tools > Preferences > Substitutions and from here you can set up a shorthand that will substitute to a special character without having to add it from Insert > Special Character every time. This is invaluable for me personally because I use em dashes like they're going out of style, so I've set up double hyphens to automatically correct to an em dash whenever I type them.

you can use this for literally anything you want, go ham

[senseoftheday]

Hi, thank you to OP for giving me my very favourite hill to die on. <3

Thinking is writing.

Thinking is writing because the central element of writing fiction is making things up, and that happens whether your fingers are moving or not.

My writing process - which is vastly non-sequential - basically involves daydreaming about an idea until I have enough to write. Sometimes this happens while I'm sitting in front of a screen; sometimes it happens when I'm doing... anything else. Sometimes I start writing and things come out of my fingers that I didn't expect, but there is always daydreaming involved .and I workshop a lot of plotlines and dynamics and dumbass jokes fully in my mind before they make it to the page.

It's hard to transcend the you should be writing guilt and HOO BOY do I get that, because I also write for work. (That is where my guilt goes.) But the daydreaming -> typing -> daydreaming cycle helps me have a healthier relationship with writing, because staring at a blank page and not knowing what to say is the worst goddamn feeling no wonder Springsteen wrote a whole song about it.

I personally find fic-writing very therapeutic, and it's partially because I write for work and that stuff is vastly more complex than getting some fictional characters to make out, but that's not everyone's experience. (Also the jury's out on whether I'd recommend it; jk i love my day job.) But the point is that I don't think guilt should have a place in fanfic, regardless of your relationship to writing outside of it. We're doing this for free, for fun, in our spare time.

And.

Thinking is writing. Is it going to get something ready to publish on AO3? fuck no! Yes, you absolutely have to type at some point, and probably edit as well. BUT. You're workshopping your ideas on a timeline that makes sense to you and look. at. you. go.

And if the little brain demons start making you feel bad about not devoting sufficient typing time to something you do for free in your spare time? Send them to me, I'll kick their asses. You're doing great.

25 hours a day, 8 days a week, #gpoy.

[cat-downthestreet]

agagaga can Genshin please stop grabbing me by the neck and forcing me to write angst for my babies? ...yes yes thanks, I'll get back to my wholesome little fanfic now-

*character death*

*punches laptop* GODDAMNIT

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

tell me again that you hate me

a/n: i kinda just poured all of the filth ever into this one fic... you're welcome.

summary: “you know, I could help you. Pop that little cherry for you,” he shrugged as if he didn’t seem out of his mind for what he was brashly uttering, “you desperately need it, that fucking stick up your ass makes you such a bitch to be around. But no one is gonna wanna bang you, I mean, maybe you could be kinda hot if you weren’t such a fucking loser, if you didn’t dress like a fucking pogue, but I don’t think anyone would commit social suicide like that. So, I’ll take care of it. Fix that problem for the good of everyone else.” 

warnings: bully!stepbro!rafe cameron x virgin!reader, smut, dark content, dubcon/noncon, enemies to lovers, rafe is in college while reader is still in high school (everyone is over 18), blackmail, alcohol consumption, allusion to drug use, drunk driving, hidden cameras, panty stealing, references to somno, possessiveness, kissing, loss of virginity, size kink, belly bulge, pain kink, dirty talk, impact play, oral, pussyjob, just the tip, squirting, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, cumplay, no aftercare and not really any foreplay, public sex, rafe is mean and pervy and dark but it's all fun because it's just a silly fantasy

word count: 5153

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist

Your life had turned into a living nightmare.

You thought that when your high school bully graduated, you’d finally get rid of him. But little did you know what the future held in store, just who your own mother would decide to marry and what particular family you’d be forced to fuse with. 

Rafe Cameron had been the bane of your existence for years. Sure, when you’d first met him, you admittedly had a bit of a crush on him, but that was until he noticed you and truly showed you the notorious bully that he was. And now that he, the very person who had turned your teenage years into literal hell, had become your stepbrother, you couldn’t wait to get out of there, move halfway across the globe just to never see his face again. 

It also didn’t help matters that you got situated in the room right next to his, even had to share a Jack and Jill bathroom with him. 

Now what you didn’t know was how Rafe’s feelings truly were towards you. How he only started bullying you because you made him feel some type of way that no other chick did, but you came from the wrong side of the island, so getting those feelings out in the form of cruelty only seemed natural to a guy such as him. You had no idea that it was actually you whom he thought about every time he jerked off on the other side of that incredibly thin wall you shared, or even that his wicked fascination with you only seemed to grow now that you were a part of the family. 

The impatient knocks were no use, so swiftly you swung the door to Rafe’s bedroom open. He was nowhere in sight, but before you could turn around to search for him in another place, the light that his computer monitor blared out into the space caught your eye.

Your vision however grew wide as soon as you saw the taboo tab that was open. It was porn, but not just any porn. The open page was littered with rows and rows of graphic videos that all fell under the stepsister search he had typed in. 

Frozen in your stance, you wanted to sprint out of there, though at the same time, some part of you wanted to inch closer and snoop further. 

“What the fuck are you doing in my room?” a voice blared from behind you and caused you to jump.

Skittering away from the desk, you spotted the familiar buzzcut standing in the doorway. 

“I–, uh,” you swallowed and recalled the reason for your hunt, “my mom’s forcing me to go to that party at Topper’s tonight.”

“Okay, and?” he scoffed. 

“And so, because I don’t really do that sort of thing–”

“Because you’re a fucking loser who never gets invited.”

“Because I have better things to spend my Friday nights doing, your father wanted you to keep an eye on me and to make sure I got home safe.”

The only way you were gonna get through the night was if you got as wasted as possible.

Which is exactly what you ended up doing. 

When the clock chimed two, the raging headache you were developing from the blaring music convinced you to finally call it a night. You’d given it enough of a chance, enough experience to go home and state that partying simply wasn’t for you. 

But if you didn’t find the literal demon of a stepbrother and let him complete his end of the bargain, then maybe your mom wouldn’t believe you alone and force you to go to another. 

However, locating him turned out to be a much more difficult task than you’d thought. As you stumbled around the massive house, supporting your wobbly weight on the walls as you peeked into each of the rooms where some partygoers had migrated to, you soon dug your phone out of your jeans and dialled up his number. 

It was on the third attempted call that you finally stumbled into him. Sitting with a random blonde on his lap and the remnants of a mysterious white powder dusting the coffee table separating you from him. 

“There you are,” you grumbled, “I’ve been trying to call you!”

His expression turned sour as he noticed your presence, swiftly flipping his phone around as it layed on the table, though the caller ID that lit up the screen wasn’t of your name as your phone still buzzed in your palm to get through to him. Instead, it spelt out fleshlight in big bold letters. 

“So, you have,” he exhaled, “what do you want?” 

“I wanna go home,” you shoved your phone back in your pocket. 

“So, go home. What do you want my fucking permission? Are you that obsessed with me?”

“You have to take me home,” you reminded him, though when he began to laugh in your face, you shot back, “or you can just deal with your dad yourself when you get home. Your choice if you wanna keep being in his good graces or not.” 

That managed to shut him up. Though as he reluctantly pushed the blonde aside and got up from the couch, he muttered just loud enough for you to hear, “fucking prude,” like a curse on the wind just before he marched passed you and grabbed a hold of your arm to drag you with him. 

“Ow, Rafe, you’re hurting me!” you tried to tear yourself free of his grip. 

“Oh, shut up you baby, no I’m not. You wanna feel what does hurt?” his long fingers then dug further into your flesh and caused it to actually ache, “this.”

As he pushed open the front door, you whined, “ow, please stop,” but when he finally did, he only traded the grasp out with a light shove to your shoulder, directing you further towards his parked car. 

When you were planted in the passenger seat with your gaze firmly fixed out the window as the dark streets rolled by, you crossed your arms and mumbled, “I hate you…” gaining enough courage from the dizzying alcohol ravaging your system to utter it out loud. 

“What was that?” Rafe cast a glance in your direction.

Twisting your neck to glare back at him, you hesitantly repeated, “I hate you,” though the faint flicker of bravery you’d acquired was snuffed out as swiftly as it ignited when you saw the smirk that bloomed on your stepbrother’s features. 

“Aw, don’t tell me that, princess,” he chuckled, “you’ll just make me hard.” 

Eyes widening, they briefly fluttered down to the crotch of his trousers before you blinked away, a reaction that was evidently satisfying enough for Rafe to cause him to keep going. 

“But you probably wouldn’t know what to do with it anyway.”

“I know what to do,” you said defensively, though regretted your humouring him as soon as the words slipped out past your lips. 

“Oh yeah? Just how would you know that? Everyone knows you’re a fucking virgin,” something he was to blame for, though that wasn’t a fact you ever had to know. You didn’t have to be aware of just how many times he had stopped guys from asking you out, just because he wanted you all to himself, “but are you secretly a perv, sis? Is that how you think you know what to do?”

“Don’t call me that,” you cringed lightly. 

“What? A perv? Or sis? Don’t you wanna be reminded that you’re my stepsister?”

“Not particularly...”

As the car curved into the driveway to Tanny Hill, an offer suddenly rolled off Rafe’s tongue. 

“You know, I could help you. Pop that little cherry for you,” he shrugged as if he didn’t seem out of his mind for what he was brashly uttering, “you desperately need it, that fucking stick up your ass makes you such a bitch to be around. But no one is gonna wanna bang you, I mean, maybe you could be kinda hot if you weren’t such a fucking loser, if you didn’t dress like a fucking pogue, but I don’t think anyone would commit social suicide like that. So, I’ll take care of it. Fix that problem for the good of everyone else.” 

Your mouth hung agape as the vehicle rolled to a stop, the sudden shift made you fear that your latest drink would come up again. 

Utterly stunned, you couldn’t form a single word as you stared back at him. 

“I mean, it’s what you want, isn’t it?” he went on, turning in his seat to gaze over at you, already undressing you with his eyes, “haven’t you always had the hots for me?”

“I–…” it felt as if the car was swaying around even though it stood completely still, “…I drank way too much tonight, and I think you might have as well.”

“You’re drunk?” darkness glinted in his eyes, “well, I honestly don’t know if I should be impressed or run inside and wake everyone up so you can get grounded for fucking ever,” he laughed. 

“No!” you gasped, “You can’t tell them, please! I–…” you felt tears begin to sting the corners of your eyes and blur up your already hazy vision, “fuck!” 

Leaning even further back in his seat, he cocked his head, “I mean, I could also keep it a secret…” the tip of his tongue mischievously slipped out to poke his lip, “for the right price, that is.”

“Seriously?” you glared back at him, “are you serious right now?”

Capturing your hand, he swiftly brought it to the palpable tent in his pants, “do I not seem serious?” his eyes narrowed ever so slightly to a squint. 

Your lips parted in shock, stare flickering away from his eyes to spot how he ever so slightly pressed your palm down against him. 

He was so hard that you could nearly feel his pulse through the fabric of his trousers. 

“I mean, really I’d be helping you out,” your gaze stayed glued to how his broad hand engulfed your own a moment longer before you glanced up to find his unwavering stare once more, “so you should really thank me for both keeping your secret and doing you such a massive favour…”

As a shaky breath escaped your lungs, you whispered once more, “I hate you…”

But the proclamation only conjured a smile to appear on his lips, “tell me again,” and he leaned in a bit closer.

“I hate y–,” but you didn’t get the last bit out as Rafe then crashed his lips against yours.

It took a second for you to react with anything other than a surprised whimper, but when you did, it was slow and cautious compared to his boldness. 

A string of saliva strung you together as he eventually parted from you. Offering himself a small caress, he pressed your palm down against him one last time before he let you go. His breathing was heavy as he momentarily let his thumb trace your bottom lip, briefly slipping it crudely in your mouth, before uttering, “get inside.”  

Why, after all of this time, after all of the pain and torture he alone made you go through, why did he still have to give you butterflies the way that he did?

It was your room that he led you to, a hand ever rooted on you as you made the journey. At first, you thought it was because he saw the way you occasionally stumbled over your own feet, but perhaps it was just in case you wanted to make a run for it, just a precaution, a safety net already halfway over you. 

“Take your clothes off,” he commanded in a cold tone as he shut the door behind you. 

“W-what?” you turned to look back at him.

Sitting down on the edge of your bed, he repeated, “take your clothes off,” though they came out sounding slightly impatient. 

He palmed himself through his pants as you slowly began to strip. Though as you’d shyly peeled your t-shirt off and dropped it to the floor, his voice halted you just as you began to undo your jeans. 

“Stop,” his voice cut the thick air like a knife, “turn around when you pull those down,” you twisted away from him as your thumbs sank into either side of the waistband, “and do it slowly,” he made you put on a show, ogling as you gradually revealed the curve of your ass, “that’s it…” he nearly moaned as your pants crumbles to the floor, “bra and panties too, princess. Unless of course, you’re backing out of our deal already.”

Clenching your jaw, you squeezed your eyes shut and shed the rest, ignoring his soft wolf whistles and crude comments as you exposed yourself. 

Slowly turning back around to face him, your hands were clasped before you out of sheer timidness and not knowing what to do with them. 

“You gonna stand over there all night?” he raised his chin slightly.

When your feet stood rooted right before his seated position on the bed, your hands began to fiddle as he pulled his shirt over his head and caused your pulse to somehow beat even harder than it already did. 

One of his palms then scooped up your stomach and briefly grabbed one of your tits before scooping you closer, “come here,” and utilised his leverage to toss you down on the bed beside him, “let me get a good look at you.” 

Grabbing for the bedsheets as the mattress momentarily bounced beneath your spine, you blinked up at Rafe as he sat next to you, twisting his form and craning down to near your core. 

You tried to clamber your legs shut, embarrassed for what his cruel reaction might be, but he was not only faster, but stronger than you, and grabbed a hold of your thighs. As he split you apart, his lips curled up into a grin. 

“Look at you… fuck,” he let out a short chuckle, “this is gonna be fun.” 

A gasp curled out of your frame as he then grazed his thumb over your folds, smearing some of the mortifying wetness that seeped out and made you feel even more intoxicated than you already were. He lightly spread you apart and studied intently your dripping pussy, how it looked, how it glistened and how your little hole twitched when he lightly circled your clit. 

“Oh, you like this, don’t you?” he rubbed your puffy pearl with a mean lightness that caused your hips to buck slightly, “you like it when your big stepbrother touches you like this?” but when you didn’t reply, he reached down and grabbed your jaw, angling it for you to meet his eye, “answer me.”

“I–… y-yes,” you quietly admitted, feeling as if you were in some strange dream. 

“Of course you do, you dirty little girl,” he bent down again to gaze at your pussy a little too close for your taste, “I knew you were a slut since the moment I met you.”

Letting go of your face, he then snaked his free hand down to give himself an ounce of relief. 

“You know, part of me doesn’t even wanna prep you with my fingers first,” he smirked and let his fingertips sweep down to tickle your entrance, “I like the idea of not stretching you out first and letting my cock do all the work, let it feel just how tiny and pure you are for me.” 

“But isn’t that gonna hurt?” your breath caught in your throat. Sure, you’d played with yourself nearly till your hands fell off, but that idea still managed to scare you. 

“God, I hope so,” he groaned and briefly leaned down to press a hot kiss to your clit, sucking it into his mouth and sloppily making out with it. 

When he then stood up and pulled his pants down, your jaw nearly hit the floor as well when you saw how thick his dick was. Fat and veiny, curving proudly up towards his abs. 

Seizing your hips, Rafe yanked you closer to where he stood, nearly letting your ass dangle over the edge of the mattress.

“Wait,” you suddenly reached out to touch his forearm as he gave himself a few lavish strokes, staring down at your cunt, comparing the obscene size of him to your puff, “what about a condom?” you squeaked as he flicked his leaking tip down to tap your core. 

Sucking in a fierce breath through his nose, he glared down at you and shot back, “what about you shut the fuck up and just be grateful,” before he sent his open palm down to smack your pussy. 

“Ah! I’m sorry, I just–, fuck!” you shuttered beneath him as he soothed the slap with the nudge of his length, rubbing it against you and teasing your cunt before he started sweeping it through your folds, nearly fucking your soppy slit, the tip of him kissing your little pearl on each silky advance.  

A dollop of spit dropped from his lips and joined the mess he already tickled at between your parted legs. 

“It’s too big…” you murmured as you stared down at how his fat girth parted your pretty petals, though the observation only conjured a smile on Rafe’s lips, “maybe you could just put the tip in?” you tried through your foggy mind, “that would still count.”

A rumbling chuckle bubbled out of him as he stared down at the two of you together, “just the tip…” his movements then grew more erratic as he slid through your folds, “is that all you think your little virgin cunt can handle?” shy gasps escaped you every time he deliberately let his cock catch at your opening, “just the tip?” 

As he slowly pressed just the flush head of his length in to breach your entrance, your brows crinkled up at the mind-numbing stretch. 

“Like that, baby?” he only moved ever so slightly, “is that all you think you can handle?” and you nodded foggily in return. But as you let your eyes flutter shut and breathed through the staggeringly wonderful sensation, Rafe’s voice once again washed over you, “nah,” like a splash of cold water while you were licking up warm sun rays, “that’s not good enough. This is,” and he then slammed the entirety of his length into you.

Your eyes instantly shot back open and your legs curled up even further on either side of you at the shock. 

“What?” he cooed at you mockingly as he slowly dragged his dick back out for just the memory to remain, “does it hurt?”

You were a blubbering and cursing mess, trembling beneath him as your pussy tried to accommodate him.

“Come on, princess,” he bent down over you and let his nose ghost against yours, “tell me that it hurts.”

“It h-hurts,” you whimpered as his hot breath fanned across your blazing cheeks. 

It did sting, a lot, but though you hated to admit it, a part of you loved it, a part of you sank even further into the pit of pleasure he so slowly dunked you into. 

“Tell me that it’s too big for you,” he nuzzled his nose against yours as he plugged you back up. 

Your body shook beneath his every time he moved as much as a millimetre inside you, “i-it’s too big.” 

Letting out a low moan of satisfaction, he then leaned down to press his lips to yours, stealing your breath away even further. 

You tried, but couldn’t really focus on kissing him back, not that he seemed to mind much as he moaned into your mouth, soon letting his sloppy kisses dance over your cheek and down your neck, letting hickeys bloom in his wake and mark up your skin like a brand.

As he sucked down on the spot where your pulse went wild beneath the skin, his hips drove against yours harder, causing them to collide in a sticky smack, as well as letting the tip of him bully the deepest part of you. He didn’t just do it once, but kept it up as he enjoyed the little squeaks you let out every time he bumped against your cervix. 

Kissing his way back up to your lips, he only offered them the briefest of pecks before raising himself off of you, just ever so slightly, and one by one, grabbed your already wide-spread legs and rested each one of them onto his broad shoulders, efficiently folding you in half. 

“H-holy shit,” you panted as the mattress rippled beneath you at every one of his rough thrusts, “Rafe–”

“Yeah?” he smirked down at your melted form, the vein in his forehead popping from the strain, “are you gonna cum? Are you gonna cum on your big bro’s dick?” one of his hands swept up to squeeze your tit, then gave it a swift tap before growling, “come on, princess. I can feel you squeezing me so fucking tight. Do it, I fucking dare you. Be a good girl and cum on my cock.”

You almost screamed as you tumbled over the edge, your head curling to the side to hide yourself in the crumbled duvet beneath you as your pussy gushed all over his fat girth. 

“Oh, fuck,” Rafe croaked as he straightened back up to get a good view. Pulling out of you, he briefly flicked his dick through your folds to urge more of your nectar to leak out, before he slid it back inside and asked in amazement, “you ever squirted before?” 

Trembling from the overstimulation, your eyes rolled in your skull as you shakily mumbled, “maybe twice, I think.”

“Such a good fucking slut,” he growled proudly, “squirting all over me like a proper whore. Just look at you,” his grip dented your thighs as he pressed them further down against the bed, “you’re already a pretty little cockdrunk mess.”

“I–, I–,” you blubbered as you felt drool begin to trickle down your cheek. 

“Oh, fuck,” he then groaned, glancing down at where he split you apart, “hold your legs back,” he requested, though had to help your sluggish hands find their way, “look at this, baby,” he scooped a palm behind your head and ushered you to spot what he had noticed. Splaying a wide hand over the lower part of your stomach, he traced the faint bulge that rhythmically appeared, “sure as fuck not a virgin anymore, are you? Fucking ruining that perfect little pussy of yours. Now that’s how you pop a fucking cherry. Aren’t you happy I was in such a charitable mood tonight?” he then pressed down on the imprint rudely, the overwhelming sensation causing your pussy to drizzle a little more around him, “aren’t you, sis?”

“Yes,” you mewled, feeling as if you were floating on a cloud and not getting your guts rearranged. 

“You’d let me do anything I’d fucking want, wouldn’t you?” he smirked down at your dazed form. 

“Y-yes,” the word flowed out of you, though you couldn’t quite comprehend all of his dirty talk any longer. 

“Hold on,” he briefly slowed down and stretched over to reach a small apprentice obscured and hidden in all of the cluttered decor on your nearby dresser. Turning it in his hand, he pointed the discrete camera down to film you, “say it again,” he picked his pace back up, “tell me that you’ll let me do anything I want to you.”

“Anything,” the words bubbled out through your moans, “anything you want.” 

“Say that you’re my little slut.”

“I’m yours–, I-I’m your s-slut.”

Tilting the hidden camera down to get a few close-ups, his voice then seeped into you once more, “now tell me again that you hate me.” 

One of your hands fluttered down and began to rub your puffy clit.

“I hate you.”

“Again,” he reached down to give your left nipple a harsh pinch.

“I hate you.”

“Keep going, princess.” 

And the more times the phrase flowed out past your lips, the more it began to lose its meaning and morph into just another sound, one that was almost akin to the complete opposite kind of proclamation. 

Just like you barely noticed when Rafe dug out the hidden camera, so too did you miss it when he put it back down, obscured somewhere among your things, possibly not even the only one. 

When you came once again, Rafe didn’t so much as pause when you creamed around his cock and drenched the sheets beneath you that much further.

“There you fucking go,” he sent a palm down to smack the sensitive skin on your inner thigh, “god, you’re so hot. I can’t believe you actually let me do this,” he grinned as your fingers stretched out to graze his wild hips, trying and failing to slow him down, “you’re such a little freak,” he glanced down at the ring of your essence that marked the base of his throbbing cock, “so fucking nasty for your stepbrother. I bet you’d even let me keep using you after you fall asleep. I mean, who’s to say I haven’t already,” he chuckled, “you’re so fucking cute when you sleep. No annoying remarks, no dumb comments… I think I might prefer you that way…” his slamming grew sloppy as he soon moaned, “fuck, I’m gonna fucking cum.”

“Pull out,” you begged through your hazy pants. 

And just when you thought he wouldn’t respect your wishes, he yanked out and furiously stroked himself before your winking and wrecked hole as it slowly retraced from the severe stretch. Moaning loudly, he swiftly painted your pussy with his load, getting it all over your puffy petals till he was panting above you. One hand rested on your thigh as he brushed the sensitive head of his cock over the cream, messily tapping the hefty weight of him against your aching clit and making you jump a few times as he smeared it in. 

Throwing himself down on the bed beside you, he let out a long sigh and said, “you’re welcome.”

You felt like you couldn’t move, like you might never be able to move again. Your breath still came in ragged as the only thing you could focus on was the sore throbbing centred at your core, that blossomed out through the rest of your nerves. 

“Well,” Rafe huffed as he soon lifted himself up to a sitting position, “night,” and without another word, slipped out through your shared bathroom into his own bedroom. 

“I can’t believe they made you take me,” you grumbled as you watched Rafe shadow you in the clothing store, “I could have just gone to the mall on my own.”

“You don’t have a car though–, also, why are you the one complaining? I’m the one being forced to go fucking shopping with you of all people.”

Somehow, for some mysterious reason, since you’d moved into Tanny Hill, your collection of underwear had shrivelled down till you barely had enough to get you through the week. Guess that was the price you had to pay for letting someone else do your laundry, though you’d always assumed it would more just be a single sock that commonly vanished in the wash…

When you dipped into the fitting room to try a few of the gathered options on, you only managed to test out two of them before the curtain slid back open and you swiftly scrambled to cover yourself.

“Rafe!” you let out a hushed screech, “what do you think you’re–”

“Try these on,” he handed you a wide stack of hangers. It wasn’t just underwear dangling from them, but also some clothing, though all of it way too revealing than you were used to. 

Glancing down at them, you refused to grasp the items and simply stated in a clear tone, “no.” 

Letting out a low sigh, he then turned to close the curtain back up before he twisted back to face you, “do you need me to have a little talk with your mom and my dad?” he took a few steps towards you, slowly pushing you into the corner by the tall mirror.

Glaring back at him through your pout, you huffed, “no…” 

You stayed in the corner as he then hung the clothing up on the hooks before taking a seat on the small stool where your purse was resting before he swept it to the floor. 

“Are you just gonna sit there and watch?”

“Yeah,” he scoffed, “it’s boring as shit out there. At least in here, I might get a moderate amount of entertainment.”

Rolling your eyes, you reluctantly began to try the attire on. 

“I hate thongs,” you muttered as you tugged a pair into place over your hip, trying not to catch your stepbrother’s stare as his gaze wandered from your reflection to the perfect view he had of your backside. 

“I recall you hate a lot of things you still don’t hesitate to jump on.”

“Whatever,” you sighed, “you have your fun, enjoy this little fashion show, but I’m sure as hell not getting any of these.”

“Well, good,” he uttered demeaningly, “because I’m buying them for you.”

Catching his eye in the mirror, you told him, “I’m still not wearing them. You can’t make me.” 

“Yeah,” he puffed out a smirk, “we’ll see about that,” and then tore his gaze away from you to gesture to one of the hangers, “try that dress on, but keep the pink thong on underneath, only the thong though.” 

You had to shut your eyes in annoyance a moment before you fulfilled his request, soon standing before him in a scantily cut, pastel mini dress, crafted in a fabric so thin that you could see the faint shadow of your nipples poking through them, especially after they’d turned all pebbly after Rafe had torn that privacy curtain to the side. 

“You happy now?” you turned to face him and propped your hands on either side of your hips. 

“Hm,” he cockily pursed his lips as his gaze studied you, “I was right…”

Your brows stayed furrowed till you watched his palm slide down to squeeze himself through his shorts. 

“What are you doing?” you hissed, eyes growing wide. 

“You do look hot in normal clothes.”

“I don’t think any of this is normal…”

“I think it’s time you learned how to suck a cock,” he suddenly announced, eyes still glued to the dress’ low neckline as he unzipped his slacks. 

“Rafe…” you breathed. 

His eyes flickered up to find yours, “get on your knees,” he tilted his head, “come on, princess. You’ll love it, trust me.” 

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[caparrucia]

Full offense and pun fully intended, but I genuinely think the very existence of "dead dove, do not eat" was a fucking canary in the mines, and no one really paid attention.

Because the tag itself was created as a response to a fandom-wide tendency to disregard warnings and assume tagging was exaggerated. And then the same fucking idiots reading those tags describing things they found upsetting or disturbing or just not to their taste would STILL click into the stories and give the writer's grief about it.

And as a response writers began using the tag to signal "no, really, I MEAN the tags!"

But like.

If you really think about it, that's a solution to a different problem. The solution to "I know you tagged your story appropriately but I chose to disregard the tags and warnings by reading it anyway, even though I knew it would upset me, so now I'm upset and making it your problem" is frankly a block, a ban and wide-spread blacklisting. But fandom as a whole is fucking awful at handling bad faith, insidious arguments that appeal to community inclusion and weaponize the fact most people participating in fandom want to share the space with others, as opposed to hurting people.

So instead of upfront ridiculing this kind of maladaptive attempt to foster one's own emotional self-regulation onto random strangers on the internet, fandom compromised and came up with a redundant tag in a good faith attempt to address an imaginary nuance.

There is no nuance to this.

A writer's job is to tag their work correctly. It's not to tag it exhaustively. It's not even to tag it extensively. A writer's sole obligation, as far as AO3 and arguably fandom spaces are concerned, is to make damn sure that the tags they put on their story actually match whatever is going on in that story.

That's it.

That's all.

"But what if I don't want to read X?" Well, you don't read fic that's tagged X.

"But what if I read something that wasn't tagged X?" Well, that's very unfortunate for you, but if it is genuinely that upsetting, you have a responsibility to yourself to only browse things explicitly tagged to not include X.

"But that's not a lot of fic!" Hi, you must be new here, yes, welcome to fandom. Most of our spaces are built explicitly as a reaction to There's Not Enough Of The Thing I Want, both in canon and fandom.

"But there are things on the internet that I don't like!" Yeah, and they are also out there, offline. And, here's the thing, things existing even though we personally dislike or even hate or even flat out find offensive/gross/immoral/unspeakable existing is the price we pay to secure our right to exist as individuals and creators, regardless of who finds US personally unpleasant, hateful or flat out offensive/gross/immoral/unspeakable.

"But what about [illegal thing]?!" So the thing itself is illegal, because the thing itself has been deemed harmful. But your goddamn cop-poisoned authoritarian little heart needs to learn that sometimes things are illegal that aren't harmful, and defaulting to "but illegal!" is a surefire way to end up on the wrong side of the fascism pop quiz. You're not a figure of authority and the more you demand to control and exercise authority by command, rather than leadership, the less impressive you seem. You know how you make actual, genuine change in a community? You center harm and argue in good faith to find accommodations and spread awareness of real, actual problems.

But let's play your game. Let's pretend we're all brainwashed cop-abiding little cogs that do not own a single working brain cell to exercise critical thinking with. 99% of the time, when you cry about any given thing "being illegal!!!" you're correct only so far as the THING itself being illegal. The act or object is illegal. Depiction of it is not. You know why, dipshit? Because if depiction of the thing were illegal, you wouldn't be able to talk about it. You wouldn't be able to educate about it. You wouldn't be able to reexamine and discuss and understand the thing, how and why and where it happens and how to prevent it. And yeah, depiction being legal opens the door for people to make depictions that are in bad taste or probably not appropriate. Sure. But that's the price we pay, creating tools to demystify some of the most horrific things in the world and support the people who've survived them. The net good of those tools existing outweighs the harm of people misusing them.

"You're defending the indefensible!" No, you're clumsily stumbling into a conversation that's been going on for centuries, with your elementary school understanding of morality and your bone-deep police state rot filtering your perception of reality, and insisting you figured it out and everyone else at the table is an idiot for not agreeing with you. Shut the fuck up, sit the fuck down and read a goddamn book.

[twosides--samecoin]

Yo @stoat-party hear me out on this one! I had some thoughts & wanted to expand on your "objectively evil" take. If you're reading the dialogue page/wiki page for his reactions, I can see where they come off "evil" at face value, but I feel I can further interpret where some of those actions/words may come from.

The first problem with a few of the situations listed (Danse, Desdemona), is the Sole Survivor (his employer) has to put him in those situations, ones he would not otherwise find himself in. RJ MacCready's perspective is that he has to keep his employment and do what he has to do to survive above all else. Going along with what the SoSu is doing - to an extent, we'll get there - is his meal ticket.

Contrast, say, the Brotherhood's explicit mandate for ethnic cleansing as explained by Maxson. There's a difference between what's explicit in the text, and the text that only happens when the player is doing the choose-your-own-adventure aspects of playing an RPG. There are save games/timelines where MacCready can be cruel. There's also save games/timelines where he's not shown being cruel at all. By contrast, Maxson/the Brotherhood's MO is cruel each time.

Thought experiment: Do I catch a theft charge for having the potential to steal a loaf of bread? Or am I charged when I actually do steal the loaf of bread? Is MacCready "objectively evil" for having the potential to be cruel to Desdemona, or is he given the chance to be cruel when the player character involves him in evil actions? If the player character doesn't put him in situations where he shows those sides of him, did the evil at hand happen?

Are some of these things "evil" or are they examples of survival and moral gray that is understandable given the shifted moral compass of the Fallout IP? I think it bears mentioning Hannah Arendt's idea of the banality of evil. You can put someone in a situation that asks of them to be cruel or commit crimes in order for them to survive, or for fear of retribution if they don't go along with it. A real world example is gang initiations in which you might be forced to commit a crime or are otherwise implicated, lest you face punishment. If you're put in a situation where you have to be cruel so that you can see the next day, there's a good chance you're going to be cruel to get through it.

MacCready is capable of being cunning in order to survive, but objective evil? I'm inclined to think otherwise.

As for Austin? Maybe it's hope that the cure could be Duncan's. Maybe it's developer oversight that instead of the empathy that should come with the general MacCready guaranteed "Like" of helping kids, he dislikes giving/splitting the cure instead approves of keeping it. I've spoken with other people who write MacCready fic and many of us find it a weird moment that doesn't make sense, beyond the typical "Beth Esda got it wrong". For me that's always felt like an inconsistency, and isn't well explained given his normal behaviour that comes with favouring when the SoSu helps parents/kids. The only plausible explanation I've read is "well, he's a merc, he dislikes selfless acts, he's going to put himself first", but I don't really buy it as empathy should kick in, given his own child dying of fatal disease.

Look at the war-torn world MacCready came from. Look at the demands of mercenary work, that he engaged in because he knew it would be a path to survival (Yes, he's okay killing innocents for profit. That's mercenary work). Look at the Gunners (who for lack of a better explanation, are Raiders Whom Do Wear Green), who MacCready only joined for money, and then left when he disagreed with their cruelty. And if the SoSu kills innocents for no reason? He knows there's a difference. I wonder if he refuses some contracts based on the people targeted by the hit, because if he was objectively evil and blood hungry, I don't think you'd get the following -

This is someone who learned you have to shift with the situation to get by, and sticking out like a sore thumb doesn't help you. That's cunning, sure, but it's ultimately survival. You don't make it to adulthood in the Wasteland without finding ways to survive - it's not "objectively evil", it's morally gray at best.

MacCready winds up at Little Lamplight, probably a baby, but at most young enough not to remember his parents. Maybe he grows up with a secret belief that they loved him, because they left him with three names whereas a lot of his peers didn’t get any. But they were grown-ups, so who needs them anyway.

He grows up eating fungus that thrives on human flesh. He starts drinking at six. He learns to shoot at ten — starting with monsters who used to be human, but undoubtedly graduating to humans long before he should have. Also at ten, he wins a fight against another child and takes power as mayor. Part of the job is to exile kids when they turn sixteen. Maybe some of them are the kids who helped raise him. He knows Bigtown isn’t as safe as it’s made it out to be, how could he not? A lot of those teenagers are headed out there just to die. MacCready knows he won’t be one of them, because he’s tougher.

When we meet him at twelve, he’s ruthless. He admits that the out-at-sixteen rule is based on lies, and that it’s really to keep the population low enough to survive. He’s a social Darwinist who protects the kids as a population, but can’t afford the luxury of caring about them as individuals. He’s learned death is cheap, you can’t afford to help strangers, and if you don’t take what you want, someone else will.

“Around” sixteen he graduated (which makes me think he left before they could kick him out), and we know the rest of the story. The person we meet in Boston has internalized these lessons. He’s friendly and has a conscience, but the only people he cares about enough to prioritize are Duncan, a maxed-affinity Sole Survivor, and probably a few others like Daisy. And boy, does he care about that tiny group of individuals. But everyone else? Make it worth his while or go kick rocks.

Having a crazy childhood doesn’t fully explain his choices - encouraging the Survivor to kill Danse, cruelly flirting with Desdemona as the Survivor betrays and murders her, outright stating he’s willing to kill innocents if there’s a way to profit from it, and disliking giving the cure to Austin even though his son is in the exact same situation. He’s just objectively evil sometimes. But I think his history goes a long way toward explaining his motivations and making him likable, if not exactly justifiable.

[dontbelasagnax]

I find as fandom has assimilated towards a capitalist mindset of consumption, there has been a larger focus on fanart and fanfiction- both in spaces that view creatives as "content creators" and spaces where creatives are seen as writers and authors but lauded similarly to celebrities or deities for gracing the common people with their creations.

This has produced a side effect wherein fanart and, primarily, fanfiction are seen as the Best Forms Of Transformative Works... which means that any other type of transformative work is thrown by the wayside.

There should be no hierarchy of fanworks - every single work is a labor of love (or spite... I see y'all throwing middle fingers to canon 😉) and should be recognized as such. Fandom is a community. It's not a transactional relationship. Everyone contributes and interacts out of shared passions and interests.

If you make podfics, gifs, photo edits, fanvids, fan binding, metas, fiber arts, jewelry, fanmixes, translate fics to another language, run/contribute to a fan wikia or compile lore and resources in other ways: I see, appreciate, and cherish all the hard, love fueled work you put into your creations.

Not to say that fanfic and digital art are over-appreciated (Since I do see that many people are allergic to pressing reblog. It's a community. We're supposed to share and communicate. Lurkers are valid but for the most part, interaction with like-minded people is what fandom is intended for.) but the pedestal they are placed on needs to be lowered. Your favorite artists and authors are real people with real lives. They piss and shit just like you. They work in retail and healthcare and are unemployed due to disability. There is nothing extraordinary about them and they are wonderful human beings all the same. No one is better than anyone else. We're all equals here on this playground.

That said, I think we need to uplift the underappreciated fanworks and creators and give them more attention so they are on equal footing with fanfic writers and fanartists. Reblog the gifsets and tell the creator you're in love with how they colored the gifs, keyboard smash in the tags when reblogging a plush doll someone crocheted of your blorbo, try listening to a podfic on your commute home instead of an audiobook and remember to leave a comment when you get home.

As a final note, I want to give a warm hug to anyone who has sat refreshing tumblr or ao3 hoping that maybe someone will tell them they did a good job. To anyone who has considered quitting their fandom endeavors because their posts or works never get as much attention and love as the rest of the artworks or fics in the fandom tags, your creations are worth making and sharing. Numbers do not equate to quality, nor can they convey how loved your creations are by a given person. Only you can bring your unique sparkle to fandom and your presence is absolutely welcome no matter how big or small, grandiose or inconsequential, important or worthless you think it is.