#first rpf monday how did i do

[dustyblinds]

Dude, I care! Give us those thoughts and maybe even snippets 🙂‍↕️ I want everything

YAY OKAY... i'm very excited to be sharing my rpf but please be nice bc i usually am not public abt my writing 😛

first of all i do have a fic published that few ppl know i wrote because iShy but it's bryce/cj... it's a super self indulgent fic about them both being religious and dealing with internalized homophobia in two different ways. if i were to rewrite it i would make it longer, but i think it's okay! here's a snippet:

“Bryce,” CJ sighed heavily, a palpable sadness lingering in the air. He hated hearing that, he'd told Bryce before. He found it difficult to cope with the idea of hurting Bryce because of his transgressions and those words served as a catalyst. Yet, it was hard for Bryce to resist the urge to confess when they were so close, so intimate. “You’re not God.”

In the end, it was God alone who could touch the parts of CJ that Bryce couldn't. The God who bound CJ to a version of himself he couldn't escape was the same God whose love he sought above all else. It stung. It always did.

“I know.”

And Bryce, he hated being sacrilegious. He grew up knowing the same God as CJ, singing the same hymns in a church choir fifteen minutes north of the temple where CJ learned to pray and take communion and give tithes. But there were moments, isolated seconds of “what-ifs,” where he longed to play God. He would tell CJ that it’s okay from somewhere beyond the atmosphere tingling just outside of space. His own mantra would play to CJ’s ears in response to his otherwise unanswered prayers, it’s okay to touch, it’s okay to kiss, it’s okay to want.

Unfortunately, CJ was right. Bryce was not God and CJ remained inconsolable every time the dam they built between friends and whatever waited for them on the opposite side exposed another crack. It wasn’t fair that God controlled how far they could move the sticks, an imaginary football field where He always had a home advantage and stayed on offense no matter what.

anddd like a said that one is published so if you would like to read this fic tap in here: ode to faith

on the topic of these two im currently working on another fic of them lol. it's essentially just them calling each other back and forth during the season & i wanted it to kind of follow the timeline of their actual season so now that theyre both over i'll finish it.. slight religious themes bc that's how i characterize them in my head (lol) but less of it than in the one i published and less angst too. here's a snippet of that one:

“You gone come down here and see me?”

Bryce couldn’t remember the last time CJ came to Carolina. Vague images of them courtside at a Hornets game passed him by, but whether it was home or away is lost on him. Something late about the statement presses him, “man, stop talking to me like I’m your girlfriend.”

CJ raises an eyebrow, “you not?”

Their routine, a carousel that never stops. CJ flirts because he thinks the hollowness behind his words is mutual. Since he’s straight. Or, at least not gay. Whatever God needs him to be. Bryce laughs, light and airy. He wishes his cheeks wouldn’t tint and his hands wouldn’t fidget.

and heres a passage i like from this same call (and probably the only other religious mention that'll be in this fic)

The protein shake on the counter was nearing room temperature, but Bryce knew he wouldn’t be drinking it tonight. He loved CJ in more ways than one, but sometimes interactions with him left Bryce feeling sick. Well, maybe not sick, but something akin to full-body exhaustion. The kind that covered him in the shower after an overtime game. The kind that creeped into his bed after spending a weekend with CJ pretending he wouldn’t defy God for him.

so yes...!!!

that one is nowhere near done... HOWEVER!! the fic i plan on publishing next is jahmyr gibbs & sam laporta from the lions LOL. i love finding new ships to write about & if i gotta be the first i'll be that idk 😭 this came about because me & my lovely friend casey (@aberfaeth) were talking abt which lions players we would ship & Yes there is nothing but what is true rpf if not blind delusion? right.

there is no plot or description just delusional lion fan vibes & these snippets that are, so far, the entire fic. 😭

"You don't get it," Jahmyr compiled his remaining thoughts into a coherent sentence.

"I don't get it because you’re not telling me," David mumbled.

Jahmyr pinched the bridge of his nose, “it builds chemistry, you know?”

“Build some chemistry with your barber. You need a retwist.”

i thought this was hilarious of me but this is just gibbs & monty talking about how he was going to date hangout with sammy... & later ⬇️

Jahmyr sat, anxiously, examining the food decorating the table. He eyed his milkshake, noting the way the condensation caused the wood to cave slightly. With his finger, he dips into the excess water and drags it across the table ignoring the sharp specks that could splinter him.

The sound of the wind picking up made him subconsciously sink deeper into his jacket as he turned his gaze to the window. Each second brought with it an eternity.

Monty was right. Sam probably thought this was a date.

He smiled, gesturing across the table, “I like your hair pulled up like that.”

And, well, Jahmyr all but blushed, redirecting his attention back towards the foam dissolving deeper within the border between whipped cream and the strawberry shake. His straw sat near the cup, close enough that the droplets had caused the wrapper to be nearly soaking wet.

It was a date, wasn’t it?

(and if you noticed the parallel between monty talking abt gibbs hair & sam complimenting it i did something right)

like i said that one will be finished next so lookout for it if youre interested!! 😛

& one more fic i'll share in this because it's underrated like these is caleb/rome but i dont have any snippet at all 😭 i do have this weak ass description

They meet on the flight to Detroit for the NFL Draft and have a one night stand (only because Rome doesn’t think the Bears are actually going to draft him).

so essentially Rome doesn't date anyone who he plays on a team with because he's scared of getting used to it and he knows that teams are a revolving door & he only sleeps with Caleb because he doesn't believe the mock drafts saying theyre both going to the Bears. sooo they hook up in Detroit before draft night and then they get drafted to the Bears & Rome freaks out. i want this one to be kinda long & but only go through preseason & training camp 😇

-

THANKS FOR CARING!!! these are most of the wips in my "underrated" ships vault. i have one (1) more ask that is gonna have my joemarr ideas since i know theyre big pussy capiche on here

[vamp-ress]

Writing Check-In

Active WIPs (as in: I'm actively working on those)

Broken Wings I finished the first draft of the Library AU in the middle of December and I have since then been editing and revising. The story is now 96.000 words long, which means I've added about 15k in the editing process. Which is simply wild. I did put in a few additional scenes (that was always the plan), but nothing that would account for 15k. I guess it's just my tendency to rewrite every second sentence. Whatever ... I still have about 30 DOC-pages to go. After that I want to re-read it to see how it flows and set it aside for a bit. I hope to start publishing it in March or thereabouts.

Muffin (working title) I'm thinking of doing the @yearoftheotpevent with a bunch of Library-AU ficlets (more on that further down). This is one of those. I like the basic idea, but I don't like my execution. So either I have a lightbulb moment how to make this fic better or it'll be moved to WIPs on hiatus. We'll see.

The Pit and the Pendulum (working title) Probably not the final title, LOL. Would also be an entry in the @yearoftheotpevent - I'm not totally satisfied with it yet, but it'll probably see the light of day.

Walking in my Shoes (working title) Also a short ficlet for the @yearoftheotpevent that doesn't quite satisfy. I'd like to explore this angle further, but unfortunately it doesn't work in the way I tried it here. Will have to sit on this a bit more.

Charlie (working title) Also a Library AU ficlet for @yearoftheotpevent. This is a bit of backstory that existed in my head, but that didn't fit into the multichaptered story. There was just no good place where I could add this in. I like what I have so far, but I don't know how to end it. I'll have to sit on it a bit more.

Control (working title) Another prompt fic for @yearoftheotpevent (until you're all sick and tired of it). I only realised after writing it that I had already written for another prompt for this particular month. I'll have to see what I can do about it.

WIPs on hiatus (as in: on the backburner, but they will most probably come back)

The Way North (working title) Yepp, still on hiatus. Aragorn and his female OC (don't worry, this won't be a romance) are still sitting quietly on my harddrive awaiting further inspiration.

First Meeting (working title) This is also still on hiatus. This is actually really depressing, but I can't really write A/L when I write V/O. The tone of my Aralas stories doesn't really gel with Viggorli and it's so very jarring to switch between both.

Dol Guldur (working title) Yes, I actually managed to start a story in August to then promptly put it on hiatus. This was supposed to be a horror-adjacent story. I feel we're properly out of horror season now, so I will leave this for later.

Crossroads (working title) Started this is November on a whim as a short prompt fic for @vo-bday-bash, but somehow I'm not feeling it. I've opened up the document multiple times, but I don't think I'm getting across what I'm trying to get across.

Finished Stories (as in, will post eventually)

The Last Resort This will be my March-entry for the @yearoftheotpevent. It's mostly finished. It's Library-AU as well, but it's set in the past. There's actually no OTP in this story, but it expands on some backstory from the 88k story. There wasn't any need to put this in the larger story, it would have taken up too much space there. But I think it works quite nicely as its own story.

Leader of the Pack This will be the February-entry for @yearoftheotpevent. It will be posted on Monday and will feature Viggo, Orlando and the cats (Charlie, too). So it's once again plotless fluff.

Midnight Hunt This was written for Fandom Weekly over at DW. I've wanted to write something for this challenge for a while now, they have really good prompts. They also have a rule against RPF and a very tight schedule, so somehow it didn't work out until now. But of course I had to write something for the prompt "werewolf". But when you've written 90k in your werewolf!Aragorn series, what do you do when you have to write something short (1000 words) for a challenge where no one participating will know your series. So I went for vibes and decided to do something interesting with the POV. I played around with different ideas and then decided on this story, which is 2nd person POV: It's Aragorn addressing himself as a werewolf while he's chasing Legolas through the woods. Lately, I feel like I'm having a lot of fun playing with stories on a "technical" level.

[wr1t3w1tm3]

So... I fucked up.

TLDR: I made a post that sounded creepy, people were concerned, I deleted post and clarified that I was not, in fact, writing RPFics of minors. Thank you commentors.

Timeline: On Sunday I got the idea to write a Hermitcraft AU where the Hermits with kids did a "take your kid to work day" thing and let them play on Hermitcraft. There was gonna be an egg hunt, and chaos was gonna ensue. It would take place in a Minecraft is IRL AU as well where the server served as a sort of military/research base or something. Like the Antarctic research base IRL.

However, as evident by the first screen shot, I very poorly worded it and several people commented on the original posts telling me not to write about the Hermits children.

IDK what else to say except that I never intended to do that. I worded that very poorly. Like, very, very poorly. I deleted the posts after taking these screenshots on mobile because they do come off as weird at best and creepy at worst. I reached out to the people who commented telling me not to write about the Hermits kids and clarified the situation with them prior to deletion.

The only reason I didn't get around to deleting the posts earlier was because by the time I realized how creepy it was on Monday I was traveling back to my Uni after break, and I had no time. Tuesday, I had two labs and had to begin studying for two exams on Friday, and I had work as well. Today is the first day I've had time to sit down and actually do stuff that isn't school/work related.

So, what was I attempting to do? I was trying to figure out which Hermits had kids and about how old said kids were (like if they were grade/middle/high school/adult was what I was going for), so I could come up with characters (either from my own OC backlog or create a new character) who would be their kids in the AU and then write the AU from there.

Prior to asking this question I did already know that a couple of the Hermits (Tango, Bdubs, and Skizz) had kids. I also knew that Skizz specifically had a college age daughter because of his Hermitcraft video that came out around the time I made the post. I, however, am one person and there was no way I was gonna be able to go through and eliminate every Hermit on my own, so I decided to ask Tumblr.

Another reason I deleted the original post was because someone gave me some very specific ages for some of the Hermit kids and I honestly do not know how they got that information but after realizing how weird my post came off and seeing that, I didn't feel 100 percent comfortable keeping it up. Obviously, that information is somewhere on the internet, so it's more likely whichever Hermit revealed that info was okay with it going public, but since I don't have time to verify, I don't wanna risk it being leaked.

I want it to be known now that I do not and will NEVER EVER write RPF. As a genre I think it's interesting, but only when done in a historical context. Or a parody context, because fuck politics. I have never and will never write RPF outside of maybe including real presidents, politicians, world leaders, and celebrities in realistic fiction, if you'd consider that RPF. If I continue work on the Hermitcraft IRL AU thing, which currently is not likely due to time constraints coming up, I will let everyone know. Thank you to everyone who did help me with research and who brough my original posts oddness to the forefront. Love ya'll.

[phdmama]

hello! i've been following you for ages and haven't directly interacted, but am always pleased to see something you've reblogged/posted on my feed ❤️ we've got this 'nice ask day' thing going on so i'm poke my head out from the shadows to say hi! i have two questions for you. please feel free to answer either, both, or even none - whatever’s most comfortable for you! 1) do you remember the first fanfic you ever read? 2) if you could redo your phd journey, what would you do differently?

Hello pal!! so nice to meet you! :-D

So I will say my friend and I in high school were writing each other what I now understand is self-insert (or friend-insert) rpf at like 16, which was long before the internet haha. The first fic I read, I can't even remember how I found it? But I do remember it was a Drarry fic, 8th year, and ended with HP getting railed over a stone bench in a courtyard after a party!!

oooo. That's an interesting question! I know for a lot of people, their phd is really hard/lonely but I think it's really different when you're in an applied social science? Honestly, there's not a lot I would change (maybe not date a drug addict while trying to go to school haha but that's basic life advice I'd give anyway, grad school or not). I was really lucky to have some incredible training experiences and to get to do basically exactly what I wanted (which was college counseling). Even the setbacks or failures I encountered along the way ended up putting me in good places (not that they didn't SUCK but yeah). Probably the biggest thing would be that if I could change something, I'd go on ADHD medication way way earlier, it made such a difference to me.

Whoops premature posting haha! The one thing I would say is, don't do your dissertation defense the way I did? I finished my predoc internship, moved back to the Boston area on Saturday, was both unpacking and finalizing my defense presentation for Monday, which I *had* to pass because I was starting my postdoc on Wednesday, and literally needed every single hour to count towards licensure (phd stuff in applied psych is a bit more complicated than just doing your dissertation and defense). And this was after one of my committee members had COMPLETELY fucked me over about 6 weeks prior. He'd clearly not read anything I'd been sending him until then, and was like, oh maybe this could be a dissertation but you need to add a whole other level of analytics and basically double your results and discussion chapter. Which I did, but that fucking sucked.

[omgkatinka]

Today is @nitannichionne 's birthday and considering she asked for a cheer up and our server at work crashed - here is a little birthday drabble I wrote on my phone. Happy birthday love!

If you need warnings: This RPF and while the birthday princess is my "target", you can read it as reader insert. Toothrotting fluff.

Wordcount: I have no idea...

You groaned when your alarm went off. As much as you enjoyed your job and were looking forward to see the kids, Mondays sucked.

Well obviously Mondays suck for everyone else too, but this one sucked even more. It’s your birthday and you spend the previous night watching your favorite Disney movies and somehow drifted off contenplating your life. You did not have the easiest start to life, getting hurt severly as a child and undergoing various surgeries over the years to help you recover to the best extent. You learned how cruel children can be the hard way, but there had always been this safe haven, Disney movies, to brighten your mood. Seeing the princesses go through their worst to always achieve the ultimate happy endinh. One reason why adulting sucks is that you grow up to learn, that there is no such thing as the ultimate happy ending. Still you grew up to be fierce, strong and independent, loved by so many people. You used your own expierinces growing up for making sure children who did not come into this life to walk an easy path, would find their way and grow up to be strong an independant people themselves. Still Mondays sucked.

When your sleep times goes off again, you groan into the pillow one last time – just to be pushed down again by two huge, strong hands.

„No! You can't get up! You're my prisoner for today!“ you hear a familiar smooth baritone growl. You were confused. What was he doing here? Henry was supposed to be in some distant location, filming a super top secret project he dared not even hint about. Trying to push yourself up again, you get pushed down another time „final warning" he growled again. How could that voice possibly get any deeper. The effect was immediate – you slumped back into your soft matress.

Managing to at least turn around, you are faced with Henry looking like an excited puppy. Eyes sparkling, wide grin, almost boyish but definitely full of mischief. „Now that I have your attention love, here is the plan: You stay right where you are, while I head back downstairs and get breakfast. Afterwards you will be allowed to get up, shower, get dressed. Make sure you'll wear something that'll suit a long day of activity. Further instructions will follow! And do not worry darling, this is all sorted out with your employer, they are actually on board with this. Now! Relax"

With that he bounced off the bed and ran (yes ran! Excited puppy, remember?) downstairs. What was this crazy man up to?

He reemerged with a tray that was more than loaded with not only you favorite breakfast treats but a cute little cake, that was too crooked to not be selfmade. The two of you devoured breakfast, though there was not a chance to finish up the amounts of food he had plated. He let you get ready while clearing away any proof of breakfast in bed and waited for you downstairs.

He literall tosses you a colourful envelope and gestures you to open it. There is a single white card in it with just one bullet point, that does not make sense. „It is a riddle! Come on love  think about it! We're going on a scavenger hunt!“ Henry says, still absolutely overexcited. With that, the words start to make sense and the two of you head out. The first clue leads you to your favorite café, where your go-to drink already awaits you. Clamped between the paper cup and the cardboard security wrapper you find the next hint. Your adventure takes you to a couple of your favorite places, each combined with tiny treats or gifts and hints to the next destination. Among other places you make it through a tiny park nearby, the busstop around the corner, the art gallery and finally to the local bookstore. The final hint leads you to the picturesque park in front of the natural history museum and there, on the lawn are a number of people waiting for you: friends, coworkers and the children you're working with and even a few you worked with in the past.  They prepared a picknick for you and the final hint  lets you know, that the lot of you will get a private afternoon in the museum including a special tour.

In a quite moment Henry pulls you close, kisses your head and whispers „happy birthday my love". After all the excitement of the day, you finally spend the rest of your birthday cuddled up between Henry and Kal on your couch with another set of comfort movies. Mondays do not have to suck, birthdays not at all.

[lowkeysebastianstan]

did i miss something? i j woke up why are people talking abt sebs dick?

hi! lucky, you should have stayed asleep or atleast offline :/

fortunately the ppl i follow aren't that bad, i literally only had to unfollow two ppl so far, but the gist is that all over tumblr, and twitter, ppl are mocking the size of sebastian's penis bc of a brief glimpse in monday the movie.

now i've not seen it yet, i might tonight, but from what i've seen most of these gremlins haven't either, they're basically just going off a gif without context.

obviously if you're shallow and pathetic enough to body shame a man for his junk the context doesn't matter, but it's still telling af that these are mostly haters in the first place or idiots who actually think that it matters and also don't know how a penis even fucking works.

not that that really matters bc honestly whether it's hard or flaccid or whatever, well. IT SHOULDN'T EVEN BE A CONVERSATION! idc if you fantasise abt him sexually, hell i have too, BUT THAT'S NOT HIM, THAT'S YOUR FUCKING BRAIN AND LIBIDO GOING OFF, YOU ARE NEVER EVER GONNA FUCK HIM REGARDLESS!

like, imagine if this was a woman? who was shamed for her uneven tits of whatever? like, wtf?

like, genital preference? def a thing. but that only applies to having actual sex with a person, and even then you don't mock ppls junk??? whoever they are jfc. so if this brief glimpse leaves you cold? fine. stop stanning, no problem. but to actually say that's why? like, really? so you're really that person, that if you meet the person of your dreams, you then peace out bc their dick isn't big enough. wow. just, wow. that's so brave of you.

i know a lot of ppl use his statements abt body dysphoria as a reason, and sure, it's a factor too, but as i said in my post, really that's irrelevant bc this behaviour is disgusting no matter who it is.

and lastly. to anyone that gifs that moment. wtf are you doing? like, honestly? like why on earth, what are you hoping to to accomplish? why are you obsessing over genetalia?

yes, we sexualise and objectify our crushes on here, both characters and irl people, we post steaming pics and gifs and fics and swoon and thirst collectively, along with meta and analysis and art, it's a part of fandom. hell, i've posted rpf myself, and jfc y'all went off on the eb gifs i posted. (we can get into the moral of all of this, but rn idc.) but this? this is what you do? the man even said that he hoped ppl would focus on the context and not on the display. i'm just—how old are you?

anyways! i hope that clears it up, and thank you, i had a bit more rant in me, it was good to vent! hope your day is stellar! <3<3<3

(also, if you are a literal child and you didn’t know better, i get it, but pls delete your posts abt it and stop and think.)

[idreamofplaid]

It Begins

Square Filled: Tongue Fucking for @spnkinkbingo & Singing Christmas Songs for @spnchristmasbingo

Characters: Sam x Olivia (OFC); Jensen and John mentioned

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Oral (female receiving)

Summary: Olivia is new to the marketing firm owned by John Winchester, and is surprised to be assigned to an important ad campaign for a high profile client. She feels like she’s in over her head with the work, but she’s in even deeper with the boss’ son, Sam.

Word Count:3781

A/N: This is Part 1 of a Series called Surrender to the Truth. It’s an AU mash up of RPF and SPN characters. I’m also playing with time. Imagine Season 8 Sam and Jensen a year or so into the future.

It was beta’d by the wonderful @fangirlxwritesx67. Thanks Viv for your patience with all my questions, your enthusiasm for this project, your thorough reading that really made me think about what I was doing, and the series title. 

Why were Mondays always like this? Olivia found it hard to decide what to wear after a weekend of being relaxed in pajamas and denim. Traffic was predictably the worst, even more so because of the holidays, and if there was any day she was going to forget and leave her coffee on the kitchen counter; it was Monday.

She made it to work on time with only a couple of minutes to spare. This was only her second week on the job at the city’s most up and coming marketing firm and being late was not the way to make a good impression on her new boss. John Winchester was a man with exacting standards and high expectations.

Her first stop was the coffee pot in the breakroom. There was no way her creativity was going to start flowing without caffeine. Cup in hand, Olivia made her way to her office. It was a respectable office, larger than the little more than a closet sized space she’d had in her last office. This one even had a small window. These things might seem insignificant, but Olivia had worked hard for them, and to her they were badges of success.

Olivia had barely had two sips of her vanilla creamer laced coffee when she had a visitor in her office, the kind of visitor who doesn’t knock: Sam Winchester. She hadn’t been here long, but she had been filled in on Sam. He was practically legendary among the women of the office, and some of the men. She took another sip of her coffee to hide the fact that her mouth had fallen open. This guy lived up to the hype. 

He was wearing a white dress shirt, minus the jacket, and the way his shoulders and chest filled out that shirt was nothing short of sinful. His tie formed a perfect Windsor knot at his throat, and the face above that tie was Greek god handsome. He was a Greek god with dimples.

As he walked across the room, his every move exuded power and privilege, without the arrogance. Holy fuck. Could a man be more attractive?

 He put a folder down on the edge of Olivia’s desk. Work. Right. He expected her brain to focus on what his family was paying her for.

She sat down to take a look at what was so important Sam Winchester himself had delivered it.  When he spoke, his voice was just as delicious as the rest of him.

 “New account. Dad wants you to take it.” He sat down smoothly on the edge of her desk to watch her look through the file like he owned the place, which he basically did. She finished looking through the file then looked up at Sam, more confused than ever. She was the new kid here. Why would they give her something this high profile, as in Hollywood high profile?

It wasn’t her most impressive moment or the most professional thing she’d ever said, but she blurted out, “Why me?”

Sam rested his hand on his thigh. The way his long fingers spread out over it wasn’t helping her concentrate or wrap her head around this situation. “Because you’re from Texas. Gives you insight into the culture, the vibe, the feel of it.” He stood and adjusted his tie, drawing your attention to his hands again. “This Ackles guy is a personal friend of my dad’s, so make it good.” As he left, he looked back over his shoulder. “Besides, everyone likes beer; you’ll come up with something.”

She said to the empty room, after he closed the door behind him, “No, actually I don’t.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For a couple of minutes after Sam left, all she could do was stare at the nicely framed but generic artwork on her wall. The Winchesters were trusting her with a huge account for some reason, and she was scared completely out of her mind that she was going to screw it up and ruin her future with this company, along with her career in advertising. Why did it have to be beer? Finally, she opened the file and spread the pictures of the brewery and the photos of its famous owner across her desk. 

She picked up one of the glossy pictures of Jensen Ackles in all his male model perfection and took a good look at it. He was just as gorgeous as Sam, but his look was distinctly different.  His eyes were a clear green, and they held a deep intensity. Those eyes were captivating in a photograph. What would they be like in person? She allowed herself to indulge in that fantasy for a few seconds then shook her head to break the spell. She needed some Bailey’s in her coffee. Excellent idea. She was already walking a perilous line at this new job, so why the hell not?

Olivia swiveled her chair and opened the cabinet behind her, reaching into the back to grab the bottle of liquor where she’d stashed it. She poured a generous amount into her cup, hoping it would calm her nerves. With that in mind, she turned on some music. The soothing notes of an instrumental version of “White Christmas” floated from the speakers. 

She closed her eyes and let the taste of the coffee and the Irish cream sit on her tongue. This had been one of her favorite Christmas songs when she was growing up. It always took her to a fantasy wonderland, a place where life was ideal and Christmas cottages had perfectly trimmed trees with beautiful presents piled beneath them, fireplaces alive with glowing fires, stockings hung on the mantel, and snowflakes falling gently outside. Living in Texas, snow had been a magical and rarely seen event.

That long cherished holiday dream filled her mind and calmed her. She started singing along with the music. ...just like the ones I used to know.  After a stanza or so, she opened her eyes to focus once again on the pictures of the brewery in front of her. A snowy Christmas was her fantasy, but she had a job to do; that was her reality.

By the end of the day when Sam came back to check on her progress, Olivia had practically nothing to show him. It would do no good to try and stall or hide just how little she had managed to accomplish. He was her supervisor on this project, and he was here to see how much progress she’d made. 

He flipped through the work she’d done that day. His expression was unreadable, but his words were clear enough. “The Taste of Texas? Not exactly original is it?” He paused and cut his eyes over to her, then dropped them back to the papers he was holding. “The drawings aren’t bad though. We can probably use some of these hill country sketches. Maybe a logo design.” He closed the file and tossed it back on her desk.

 “Do you know what you need?” Her silence said she didn’t. “Inspiration.”

She put her hand on the folder lying on her desk, the one that represented her failed day of work. “Where do I get that exactly?” She was unable to keep a hint of exasperation out of her voice.

He flashed her those unbelievable dimples and winked. “Follow me.” Sam took her to his office. It was easily four times the size of hers with an entire wall of windows that revealed a breathtaking view of the city, the lights from the skyline competing with the white lights on the tastefully decorated Christmas tree that adorned his office. It was opulent and sleek, a space befitting the heir to the growing empire. 

She allowed herself to indulge in the breathtaking view of the skyline for a few seconds before commenting, “It’s an incredible view, but I don’t see anything about a family business in Texas out there.”

“Your inspiration isn’t out there; it’s in here.” His voice drew her eyes away from the magnificent view. Sam walked to his mini fridge and pulled out a six pack. He held it up. “A little Cosmic Cowboy from Family Business Beer Company. How can you create an impactful and memorable campaign without sampling the product?”

Sam twisted the top off a bottle and handed it to her. She took a sip of it. Unfortunately, she wasn’t one of those people who could describe the taste of beer. It was cold. It was beer. That was all she had. She was not a connoisseur. How was she ever going to do this ad campaign? She didn’t even like beer.

Sam had been watching her reaction carefully. Olivia didn’t have a poker face, though she’d tried to hide her reaction. It didn’t slip by him that she wasn’t comfortable with this beer thing. 

“Not your favorite then?” He took a drink from his bottle. “Taste it again.”

He was the boss’ son, effectively her boss right now, and this was her job; but she got the feeling she would have done whatever he asked even if that hadn’t been the case. She took another sip, and Sam coached her through it. “Think about what you’re drinking; savor it. Just like wine, beer has notes; and they’re all different.”

She took one more drink. “What am I supposed to be tasting?” She’d never been good with wine either, but once someone explained there was blackberry or oak or whatever in it; she could pick up on that. She needed Sam to tell her what she should be tasting.

“Do you taste how it’s substantial but still light?” She took another sip and nodded. “It’s the grapefruit and pineapple that make it light; the pine in it gives it a little something more.” When he said it, she could taste it. She could taste it all.

Sam’s office had a fireplace, not like the one in her fantasy Christmas cottage, but when he picked up a remote and clicked it bringing the flames to life, it was cozy nevertheless. Sam took off his tie and tossed it on one of the upholstered chairs in front of the fire. He unbuttoned the top of his shirt and rolled up the sleeves. Absentmindedly, Olivia took another sip of her beer while she watched him. 

Sam sat down on the plush rug in front of the fireplace, his back leaning against the leather sofa, legs stretched out in front of him. He put what was left of the six pack of beer down beside him and patted the floor on his other side, inviting her to join him. Olivia lowered herself next to him. She was thankful her pencil skirt wasn’t so tight that it didn’t allow some freedom of movement, and she tried not to stare at the way the firelight danced over his golden skin. He caught her looking at his strong forearms, exposed below the rolled white cuffs of his shirt. Sam smiled, a flirty and suggestive sort of smile. He finished the last of his beer, and popped open another.

Olivia was slower to finish hers, but she was beginning to warm up to the taste. Perhaps it was something you had to acquire, or maybe the company you were in made all the difference. Beer might be okay after all. 

He asked, “What do you think of it now?”

“I can taste everything you said.” The crackle of the fire, the lights from the Christmas tree, and the skyline in the background created a perfect storm of romantic atmosphere. Olivia noticed how Sam’s eyes were a beautiful honeyed brown, dappled with green and gold. His lips looked incredibly soft in contrast to the hard line of his jaw. He caught her starting again, this time at his mouth. 

He took her empty bottle and slotted it back into the cardboard square where it had originally been and put what was left of his beer in the empty square beside it. Sam turned back to her and leaned in closer. He took her face into his hand and looked into her eyes for a long second or two before he lowered his mouth to hers. 

The way he kissed was like nothing she’d ever experienced before. His tongue was sure but gentle as it circled hers. He had complete control of her through what his mouth was doing. A wet spot was forming in her panties, her body responding to him. At the same time his hand was cradling her face while his fingers moved slowly back and forth through her hair, massaging her scalp and melting her under his touch. He could do anything to her. She was eager for it.

He broke the kiss, and now he was holding both sides of her head in his enormous hands. His lips were still just inches from hers. She could feel his breath when he asked, “What do you taste now?”

This man could make her breathless. He was either meant for her, or he was excellent at reading her actions and responses. His attention was completely on her, waiting for her response. 

 “I...can still taste the beer, but the way you taste makes it better.” It wasn’t eloquent. For someone who worked with words to pull the maximum effect from them, he could make her forget how to use them properly. 

Sam kissed her again, hands roaming down her back and stopped just above her waist. “You know what else might really inspire you?”

Olivia pressed her body so tightly against his she could feel the muscles in his chest and stomach through his shirt. It made her wetter. “I have some ideas.” 

He took off her jacket and let it fall to the floor. “Then let’s get those creative...juices flowing.” The blouse she was wearing was form fitting. Sam’s gaze traveled over her breasts before his eyes locked onto hers.

 A spark traveled between them. Lust? Need? Want? Whatever it was, the sexual tension hung in the air for a moment before their lips crashed together. 

Sam lowered her to the floor while he pulled her shirt up. He broke the kiss to tear it  over her head and throw it out of the way. Now it was his turn. She took a fistful of his shirt and pulled it out of his pants, then did the same on the other side. He propped himself over her on his hands while she unbuttoned his shirt and took it off. She ran her hand across his chest and over his shoulder. What he’d been hiding beneath that expensive shirt was impressive.  

Sam smiled down at her. “You like?”

“Very much,” she answered while he took off her bra and lowered his head to take one of her nipples in his mouth. He teased it with his tongue until she was arching her back and raising her hips off the floor. 

Sam sucked hard on the nipple in his mouth before pulling off it. “Do you want more?” Her eyes closed and her lips parted, a small moan escaping from them. 

He unzipped her skirt and dragged it down her legs, then turned his attention to her lace covered mound. Sam rubbed his fingers over her panty covered core. “Already so wet.” He pushed her panties aside and swiped his fingers through her folds. Then he lifted his fingers to his mouth and sucked her juices from them. His eyes bore into hers. “Tastes so good.”

He tore her panties from her body to gain access to what he wanted; she heard the sound of silk and lace ripping. Sam’s hand felt huge on her thighs as he pushed them wide apart. He held them there, and his tongue found her clit. He sucked it the same way he’d worked at her nipple. 

She was raising and lowering her hips beneath him, fucking nothing and needing to be filled until Sam swirled his tongue all the way down her slit to her opening and thrust it inside. She wasn’t empty anymore, and it felt incredible. He moved his tongue in and out of her, fucking her on it until she was writhing and grabbing fistfuls of his hair. 

She wanted to scream but was still aware enough to know they were in the office building. So, with some effort, she held it in. But when he added the pad of his thumb circling over her clit while he continued to thrust into her with his tongue, she started to whimper and moan. Her thighs were shaking when she came on his face. He licked and stroked her through her orgasm until she went still beneath him.

Sam didn’t move for a few seconds, then he raised himself up so he could see her reaction to what he’d done to her, how it had affected her. Olivia smiled up at him, and Sam returned the smile while he unbuckled, unzipped, and pushed his pants and underwear down over his hips. If she’d thought what was under his shirt was stunning, what was under his pants was better. His cock was absolutely magnificent. It stood against his stomach long and thick, resting on his well defined abs. Sam caught her looking at him yet again, and his smile got bigger. “I’m not finished with you yet.”

Sam lowered himself from his kneeling position until he was sitting on the floor. He pushed his pants farther down his legs to get them out of the way. He extended a hand to her, and she took it. He settled her on his lap. Olivia wrapped her legs around him. He looked at her with those beautiful eyes that combined colors in so many ways that seemed to change from moment to moment. “Do you want to go through with this? It’s not too late to say no.”

She squeezed her thighs into his sides. She was imagining the feel of his cock stretching her open. From the looks of him, it was going to be a tight fit. “I absolutely want to go through with this.” 

That was all he needed to hear. He took a condom from the wallet in the pants pooling around his ankles and rolled it down over his length. Sam put his hands on each side of her waist and lifted her up, lining her up over the tip of his cock.

When he started to lower her down onto his shaft, she rolled her head forward. Her hair brushed over his shoulder as he continued to slowly ease her down onto his length, giving her time to adjust to his size. Once he was fully seated inside her, he began to roll his hips. Oliva imitated his movements, rolling her hips with the same rhythm. 

She raised her head because she wanted to see into Sam’s eyes while he thrust up into her. There was something in the depths of them that she couldn’t quite define, something she wanted to figure out, something she wanted to understand and know better. He covered her mouth and kissed her with an intensity she could feel through her entire body.

His tongue was circling hers, tasting her, when she came again. Olivia clenched around him and her body spasmed in waves as her orgasm crested and blended into another. Sam kissed her all the way through it. She went limp in his arms, and he kept moving. 

She could feel his hands on her and the warmth of the flame from the fire on her skin. She could feel the way his cock throbbed, still buried deep inside her, and she could taste him. He pulled away from her mouth and buried his face in her neck when he came.  

“Olivia.” He said her name once, just the one word, and it struck her to the core. Olivia regretted that she couldn’t feel his hot release painting her insides. It felt like some part of him was being held back from her, and she wanted it all. 

Whatever magic she’d felt hearing the sound of her name on his lips dissipated with the reality of Sam pulling himself from her body and carefully removing the condom. He pulled his pants back up before walking over to his desk to dispose of it in the wastebasket there. Olivia imagined it wouldn’t be the first time the cleaning service found one of those in his trash. 

What was she doing? She just screwed the boss’ son in his office. She was a total cliche. Her mind told her she should feel like a slut, but she didn’t. She refused to be ashamed of what she’d done. The sex had been mind blowing; her body had never responded to any man that way. Sam had stirred something in her physically, but it had gone beyond that. It was something she would examine later and try to define, but now all she could think of was escaping the overwhelming thoughts and feelings consuming her. Hastily, she grabbed her clothes and was in the process of putting them back on when Sam returned. 

He took her hand and charmed her with his boyish dimples and his eyes that had turned a soft gray like the color of a sky lit by a silvery moon. Still, it was his words that got to her the most. “Hey, don’t be in such a hurry to leave; you’re going to make me feel cheap.” He was flirting with her. Guys like him moved smoothly through situations like this as though they were born to it, and in a way they were. Still, part of her hoped he was being at least a little sincere.

Sam hadn’t let go of her hand. “Stay with me. We can watch the fire, enjoy the lights on the Christmas tree.” This was a fling, right? It was a one night stand with the irresistible guy at work. “Plan our trip to Texas.” What did he just say? “A six pack is just an introduction to the business. What you need is to see the brewery.” 

Sam sat down on the sofa, and Olivia sank down beside him. She lowered her guard a little and let some of the bliss she was feeling wash over her. The ambience created by the light from the tree and the fire enhanced her mood; both the light and her mood seemed somehow softer now.

“We can take the company jet. Ring in the new year in Austin.” Listening to him, Olivia had a most happy thought. Maybe this wasn’t a one night thing after all. 

Everything: @gambitwinchester @princessmisery666 @onethirstyunicorn @peridottea91 @logical-princey @emilyshurley @beenlovingromansincedayoneish @fangirlxwritesx67 @waywardbaby @atc74 @shaniquacynthia @mariekoukie6661 @tumbler-tidbits @67-chevy-baby @fandom-princess-forevermore @terrarium-jpeg @emoryhemsworth @crashdevlin @heycasbutt @jules-1999 @mrsdeannafuckingwinchester @cosicas-cuquis @sammyimpala-67 @queenoftheunderdark @dean-winchesters-bacon @mrs-meghan-winchester @timelordy-fangirl2 @sweetness47 @hobby27 @awesomesusiebstuff @kickingitwithkirk @becs-bunker @sandlee44 @supernaturalgrandma @lonewolf471 @sea040561 @dawnie1988 @volleyballer519 @outcastedangel @kdfrqqg @lizette50 @daisymoder72 @sorenmarie87 @winchesterxfamilybusiness @deansotherotherblog

Sam/Jared: @girl-next-door-writes @stunudo @feelmyroarrrr @sammit-janet​ @idabbleincrazy​ @evansrogerskitten​ @focusonspn​ @autumninavonlea​ @spnxbsessed​ @durinsbride​ @deansyahtzee​ @waywardnerd67​ @fullmooner​ @julesthequirky​

[artificialqueens]

Galactica, Chapter 71 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Fun fact: this rewrite is now the second-longest fic in the Drace Race RPF section of AO3. (Second only to the original story, lol.) So if you’re looking for a lot of content…we’ve got you. ;) Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Previously: Violet revealed her estranged relationship with her family to Sutan, and Courtney struggled to live up to Miss Fame’s demands.

This Chapter: Some uncharacteristic vulnerability from Violet, Met Gala meetings and morning television.

***

“Do you want more marshmallows?”

“I always want more marshmallows.”

Katya grinned as she got up from the kitchen table, grabbing Trixie’s mug to top them both up. They were decorating gingerbread men, Katya pulling them from the oven last night. Trixie was doing clothes, drawing in the lines and putting details on them, one of his favorite jobs.

It was a tradition of theirs, spending the Sunday before Christmas in their pajamas, preparing cookies and watching Home Alone, the leftover icing always ending up in the bedroom for some sticky afternoon fun.

***

“Aaaand release...”

“Oh god,” Sutan groaned, rolling onto his back and spreading out like a starfish. “I’m dead.”

When he had jokingly asked if he could join Violet for her yoga session, he hadn’t figured she’d say yes, and he definitely hadn’t expected that it’d be this hard, those last few breaths of extended child’s pose essentially torture where he could feel his bones bend and creak.

“Stop being so dramatic,” Violet grinned, his girlfriend sitting back on her knee, the leg with her cast spread out to the side. “We only did 40 minutes.”

“You’re not even sweating.” Sutan looked at her, Violet’s hair in a high ponytail, the Sunday look of one of his shirts and a sports bra quickly becoming a fave.

“Some of us remember to do more than weights and cardio, Mr. Amrull.”

“I’m texting my trainer right now,” Sutan reached over his head, grabbing his phone that he had left on the floor next to their mats, Violet giggling as she laid down next to him, putting her head on his shoulder.

“There,” Sutan pressed send, his trainer probably falling off of his chair when he read the message, Sutan always attempting to get away with the bare minimum when it came to exercise, but he refused to be humiliated by being unable to reach his toes.

He was just about to put his phone down, when Violet reached up and tapped the screen, his front camera opening up, both of them in frame as they were lying on the floor.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking a picture?” Violet smiled, her sarcastic tone never wavering. “To document the moment.”

Sutan looked at the screen. It was so incredibly tempting to say yes, to keep this moment in the private password protected collection that had steadily grown since Thanksgiving, Violet really and truly trying to let him take pictures, but he couldn’t say yes, not when he knew why she was so confident.

“And can I post it?”

“Post it?” Violet raised an eyebrow, sitting up on her elbows. “Why? Isn’t your hair...?”

“A mess?” Sutan didn’t want to smile, but it was impossible not to, Violet knowing him way too well if she had already figured out that he was sometimes embarrassingly vain about his hairstyle, the mess on his head looking like he had been fucking for an hour. “Yes, but I still want to post it.”

“I-” Violet had pulled away completely now, not a single trace of the sweetness left. “No.”

“Violet,” Sutan sat up as well, putting his phone down, “I know you hate social media, but you’re my girlfriend, and I don’t think what I ask for is unreasonable-”

“Sutan. Please” Violet grabbed her mat and rolled it together in an attempt to avoid him. “I said no.”

“And I’m pushing because I don’t understand.” Sutan could feel the annoyance build, the hurt and the rejection. It stung every single time Violet denied him, hurt every time she neglected what they had.

“I’m not saying we have to announce it with a workout selfie,” Sutan hated that they were fighting, but he couldn’t help himself, “but I want to tell the world that we’re together.”

“And I don’t-” Violet looked at him, her brown eyes filled with hurt. “If the world knows, they know, and I don’t want them to know where I am or what I’m doing.”

There it was. The they, the them, the family from Atlanta that was haunting his girlfriend's life like a shadow that had slowly started to creep into his too.

“Violet, I hate to be the one to tell you,” Sutan didn’t touch her, simply putting his hand down on the floor next to hers, telling her that he was there. “But the internet exists. If they have your name, they can find you, no matter what you do to hide.”

“Have you taken a moment to consider that they might not have that?”

Sutan paused, Violet’s words like a bomb.

“... What?”

Did her family not have her name? It was true that Violet Chachki barely got any hits on google, that it was Parson’s assignments and internships that popped up, the Galactica employee directory right at the top, but Sutan had never considered that possibility, had never even toyed with it.

“This wasn’t how I planned on telling you. Actually, I probably wasn’t counting on telling you at all, but I’m not…” Violet was fiddling with the tiniest hole in her yoga mat, her fingers tugging on the foam. “I wasn’t born Violet. Wasn’t even born a Chachki. Hasn’t it ever seemed weird to you that my last name literally means trinket?”

“It does?”

“Mmh,” Violet smiled, the same heavy sadness he had seen in the hospital in her eyes. “I needed to not be… Blair anymore.”

“Blair?”

“Yes,” Violet nodded. “Blair Dardo. It was my birth name. I never liked it, and I changed it the moment I turned 18, left it behind the second I could. That’s why I can’t,” Violet gestured vaguely to Sutan’s phone. “Changing it meant that they can’t, that they can’t find me, and I-”

Sutan didn’t know what to say, but it felt like he had just been given another puzzle piece in the mystery that was his girlfriend.

“I’m sorry.”

Violet’s head snapped to attention, her eyes widening in confusion. “...What?”

“I’m sorry.” Sutan said it again, making sure he put his genuine emotion behind the words. “I should have realized that you weren’t saying no to be difficult, and yet I kept pushing.”

“Sutan-” Violet still looked confused and a little suspicious, like she didn’t really understand what he was doing. “You don’t have to-”

“No but I do.” Sutan smiled. “I get it now, and I’m sorry, but next time you have a deep dark secret, maybe you could just tell me instead of this charade-”

Sutan was cut off as Violet threw herself in his arms, knocking him down on the floor and kissing him like her life depended on it, gratitude rolling off of her in waves.

***

“Raja?”

Alyssa held out the plate of croissants, Raja waving it away since she didn’t want one. The entire senior management team was gathered in the  conference room, Fame for some ungodly reason always insisting on a full breakfast spread for their Monday meetings, even though only a fraction of them ever actually ate any of it.

“So,” Fame looked around, a gold fountain pen in her hand, a black moleskin notebook open in front of her. “Any updates?”

The theme of today's meeting was the 2015 Met Gala, Raja barely hiding a groan when Courtney had sent out the meeting agenda.

It wasn’t that she disliked the Met Gala, the first Monday in May a spectacular party, but it was such a hassle getting there, the gala the fashion world's version of the Oscars.

“Yes,” Pearl smiled, turning around in her chair. She was weirdly chipper, her blonde hair collected in a clip, her signature leather jacket exchanged with a cropped black fur. “We have the final confirmation from Jessica Chastain’s team. She’s in.”

“Good,” Fame nodded, making a note in her moleskin, the fact that Fame was actually writing herself more than enough to cement the severity of the situation. Courtney was standing against the wall, Ivy sitting at the table with her computer open, typing away, but when it came to the Met, Fame left nothing up to chance.

“She’s looking forward to working with us, and she says she’s honored-”

“Yada yada yada,” Fame made a hand puppet, and Raja had to hide a smile, Pearl leaning back in her chair with a roll of her eyes, mouthing at everyone else that she’d send a follow up email.

It was Fame who had requested Jessica, in her own roundabout way, her friend casually mentioning to Raja that she had a good smile, which was more than enough for Raja to make Pearl offer her up as Galactica’s celebrity face.

It wasn’t every house who did it, but the big ones always had a celebrity at the gala, wearing their clothes and repping the brand.

“Does anyone know if they’ve moved away from the terrible theme yet?”

“It doesn’t seem like it,” Alaska offered up, the promotional material the Met had sent out at the start of the fall in the middle of the table thanks to Ivy’s forthsight. “It’s December, and since we haven’t heard anything, they’re sticking with China's influence on western fashion.”

“Good god, I was really hoping they had come to their senses.” Fame breathed out through her nose, and Raja had to agree with her. Sure, ‘China: Through the Looking Glass’ made sense as an art exhibition, but there was really no way to convert it to fashion without being culturally insensitive at best and offensively appropriative at worst.

Besides, Galactica had never been a brand that sought inspiration from the east in their designs and aesthetics, which made the entire situation quite the predicament.

“I’m sure we can work with it,” Trixie gave a small smile, the stack of papers by his elbow indicating that he had probably already put his senior designers to work coming up with concepts.

“And how,” Fame turned, looking directly at Trixie. “Are we supposed to work with it? Raja’s the only one who could possibly get away with being theme appropriate.”

Usually, Fame and Raja were the ones who walked the carpet together with their celebrity, Fame a nervous wreck for weeks before the gala because of all the strangers, while Raja enjoyed it because of her modeling days, seeing old acquaintances without the stresses of fashion week, a delightful yearly treat.

“I’m Indonesian.” Raja knew Fame didn’t mean anything by it, and she wasn’t that concerned about being politically correct herself, but everyone knew what it could mean for a fashion house to misstep, Dolce and Gabbana somehow walking directly from one scandal and into another one. “Not Chinese.”

“See?” Fame sighed, leaning back in her chair. “It’s a controversial time bomb. Either, we stay on theme, which I refuse since I look terrible in Chinese red, ”

“So we’re going off theme?” Trixie had picked up his papers, sorting through them, and Raja felt a moment of gratitude for their head of design, Trixie of course coming prepared with off-theme suggestions as well.

“Unless they get a grip and change it? Yes. Yes we are.”

*

“There!” Everyone held their breath as Maxwell pointed at Violet’s screen, an email from Ivy just ticking in, the Met Gala meeting still in full swing.

“Open it, Chachki!” Blu was practically biting her nails, hopping from one foot to the other, her red hair in a braid over her shoulder.

“Alright, alright-“ Violet clicked on the email, Bob standing right behind her, his eyes flying over the screen before he called out.

“It’s Jessica!”

A collective sigh of relief went through the floor, a loud ‘yes’ coming from Kiara who was clapping her hands together, the group breaking up, chatter filling the air.

“Thank god,” Maxwell groaned, putting a hand on Violet’s shoulder and giving it a squeeze. “I knew having you here would be worth it Chachki.”

“Right.” Violet raised an eyebrow, looking up at him, clearly not understanding why no one had thought to simply ask Ivy for updates before, the suggestion just casually slipping from her during morning coffee, the entire department running with it instantly. “But I still don’t-“

“Get it?” They turned to look over at Jovan who was sitting at his own desk, the man one of the few who hadn’t gathered around Violet’s computer.

“Yes.” Violet nodded. “If you needed information all this time, you could have just asked-”

“Like we could have just asked you?” Bob said, cutting her off and Violet opened her mouth, only to close it again. “Exactly.” Bob grinned. “You would have told us to fuck off.”

“I see your point.” Violet tapped her fingers on her desk, a small smile on her lips since everyone knew she would have said those exact words directly to their faces when she had been in Fame’s front office. “But, why is it such a big deal if a celeb is confirmed or not? The gala isn’t until May, that’s 4 months away and it’s three outfits. A whole collection is usually done in that time.”

“A collection doesn’t have to be approved by the celebrity,” Maxwell counted on his fingers, “the celebrity’s stylist, Vogue and Anna Wintour personally on top of Trixie, Raja and Fame. Alexis usually starts producing concepts in October.”

“As soon as they reveal the theme girl!” Alexis yelled over her shoulder, already pulling her sketches from their shelf, the confirmation meaning that she’d be in a meeting with Trixie for the rest of the day, working out the details of the first round of negotiations with the celebrity.

“Huh…” Violet looked around, the puzzled expression still on her face. “And what about-“

“Fame and Raja?”

Violet nodded.

“You’d think Fame would be the difficult one-“ Maxwell smiled.

“But make something gorgeous and custom in ivory and she’s on board,” Jovan grinned, putting the pen he was using behind his ear as he turned around in his chair. “Every year, she pretends like she’ll follow the theme, and then never does.”

“Exactly.” Maxwell nodded. “Fame is demanding, but consistent. Trixie has an entire drawer of Fame-appropriate outfits that we all contribute to whenever we have an idea.”

“That makes a disturbing amount of sense,” Violet looked mildly impressed, and if any of the rumors Maxwell had heard about how she had managed Fame’s front office, that approach wasn’t too far off from how Violet herself had attempted to tame the beast.

“Rule one of surviving at Galactica: Never disappoint Miss Fame. For once, however, Fame isn’t the problem.” Maxwell sighed, taking a seat on the edge of Violet’s desk. “Raja is.”

“Raja?” Violet looked genuinely surprised. “Really?”

“Yes really.” Maxwell crossed his arms. “Every year, she tells us that she’s chill, that she’ll wear whatever goes with the spring collection or the theme-“

“And every single year, she changes her mind at least four times.” Bob chimed in, the drama loving smirks on his lip. “More if you’re lucky.”

“Which is why,” Maxwell nudged Bob’s side with his elbow. “We’ve unanimously decided that you have the honor of dressing Raja for this year's Met Gala.”

“Me?” Violet’s eyes widened. “What? Why?” Violet looked at them, confusion painted on her face. “I’m the most junior member of staff.”

“True, but you’re also sucking her brother's dick,” Maxwell grinned, “so we figured she can’t kill you during the process, unlike the rest of us mere mortals.”

***

It should have been one of the most exciting mornings since Courtney started at Galactica--Miss Fame and Raja were being interviewed on a talk show, and so she got to go to the famous 30 Rockefeller Plaza building, and be on the set of a real television show. Unfortunately, it was such a whirlwind of activity and Miss Fame was in such a demanding mood that she didn’t have a second to enjoy it.

She felt like a chicken with its head cut off, running around in a hectic scramble to meet every request. Today was the last day before their holiday break, and even though Courtney knew that spending her break with Bianca would be incredible, she also knew that she had about a billion things to do before that could even start. Today was supposed to be a half day, but with how packed the schedule was, she’d be lucky to leave by 5.

She entered Miss Fame’s green room, silently handing her the coffee she’d asked for and then leaning on the wall to catch her breath. Miss Fame took a sip and then immediately spit the coffee back out.

“What is this?” she asked, holding the cup out like it was a bag of dog shit.

“It’s your usual-”

“This is not my usual. This is weak, and not hot enough, and-did you just roll your eyes?”

“No, Miss!” Courtney insisted, praying that she was telling the truth. She was tired, having arrived at the office at 6 am to drop off her stuff for Bianca’s, and there was a teeny tiny chance that she may have (accidentally) rolled her eyes. “Would you like a new-”

“Let me tell you something, Courtney. This may be the last day before a vacation, but I expect you to be fully present and accounted for. We have too many important things going on and I will not accept anything less than your absolute very best. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Miss.”

“Now. Please go find me some decent coffee before I get a migraine.”

“Yes, Miss.”

“And after you come back, I need you to go to the dry cleaners. I’ve decided to wear my ivory Valentino suit to meet the investors later.”

“Yes, Miss, will do.”

“That’s all,” Miss Fame said, waving her hand, and Courtney took off back down the labyrinthine hallways of 30 Rock to hunt down a coffee that would meet her standards.

***

“Good morning! Welcome back to Coast to Coast. I’m Nina West, and today we are positively blessed to have with us the icons of fashion, Miss Fame and Raja Gemini of Galactica, here to talk to us about dressing to impress in the new year, and their exciting new business ventures. Thank you so much for being here, ladies!”

“Thank you, we’re thrilled to be here,” Fame smiled, the lie easily falling out of her red painted lips.

Raja could see the way her hands were clenched in her lap, her wedding ring turned inward and digging into her palm, and knew that she was at her tensest.

Raja had long ago gotten used to giving live interviews. She had a laid-back attitude and while she always wanted to represent the company in the most flattering light, she tended to relax and let the conversation flow naturally.

Fame, however, had never quite gotten the hang of it in the same way. She was just so brand-conscious, almost to a debilitating degree, written interviews so much more her speed.

She always looked impeccable, very much the ice goddess she was so often called, but Fame had never gotten the same confidence in her speaking skills as Raja, who had been dragged through developing them in her modeling career.

Even though Fame hated being on live TV, they occasionally got an offer they couldn’t turn down, and between the makeup line being released in January and the overhaul of their website and online store, they had a lot to plug.

The whole thing was so stressful Fame had asked Raja four times to check her pits for sweat stains, her papers with facts from the makeup department and pointers from Pearl not leaving her hand until they literally had to go on.

Raja leaned forward, giving Fame’s shoulder a reassuring pat, and added, “This is our favorite show, we never miss it!”

“Aww, thank you!” said Nina, grinning. “Now, I’ve heard through the grapevine that you have an exciting announcement.”

“Yes, and we’re so happy to be able to share the news with your viewers first-”

“An exclusive!” Nina exclaimed, eyes comically wide and mouth open as if this was news to her.

“Yes, exactly. Early this year, we released a limited makeup line, and it’s been doing just wonderfully. So in 2015, we’re going to be rolling out a full line of makeup and skincare, with special edition palettes and colors all throughout the spring.”

“All natural, vegan, cruelty free...I always want the very best for my own skin and I wouldn’t offer our customers anything less,” Fame cut in, and Raja felt a surge of pride at how natural she sounded. All their rehearsing had clearly paid off.

“If you use it, I’ll use it!” Nina said with a chuckle. “You both have the most gorgeous skin I’ve ever seen.”

“We expect the first batch to sell out quickly,” Raja said, “So go straight to our website, Galactica dot com, and sign up to be part of the mailing list to receive alerts on all new product launches and where they’ll show up in stores.”

“I’m doing that, the second we go to commercials,” Nina said. “But first, I heard that there’s more news about your spring line...”

***

Patrick reached for the remote, turning off the TV as Nina West rounded out the segment with Fame and Raja.

He was sitting in his office, wrapping up the last details before the firm could close down for the holiday break.

Fame had done a great job, the nerves he knew she had felt not showing on her beautiful face. Patrick picked up his phone, a smile on his lips as he started to type out a text.

Fame would probably not read it until she left work for the day, but he was proud of her, and he hoped that she was proud of herself too.

***

Fame collapsed onto her dressing room sofa, completely emotionally drained, the crystals she had stuffed in her bra digging against her skin.

Being on camera for live television always took up every drop of energy, and left her with nothing to spare. Unfortunately, she knew that she didn’t have much time to rest, since she was due at the Russian Tea Room to meet her potential investors in less than an hour. The makeup artist they’d hired was standing by for touch-ups, and her ivory Valentino suit hung in its dry cleaning bag on the clothing rack. But first, she knew that her blood sugar was dangerously low, so she needed…

She looked around. Where on earth was Courtney? Fame had never met someone with such a tendency to be underfoot at the worst times and completely MIA when her presence was required. She walked to the doorway, spotting Courtney having a casual chat with a girl in a headset, carefree as anything.

“Courtney!” she snapped, and Courtney looked up, surprised, even though she was literally here for the sole purpose of taking care of Fame’s needs. “Come!”

Fame turned and walked back into her dressing room, irritated, the rapid click of Courtney’s heels as she ran over grating on her nerves.

“Yes, Miss?”

“I need to eat.”

“Oh…” Courtney’s gaze shifted to the table, where a fruit basket sat amongst assorted pastries and other snack food.

“Not that sugary garbage,” Fame explained. “Violet always had- Don’t you have any protein bars?”

“Oh, of course!” Courtney exclaimed, rummaging through her purse.

Fame rolled her eyes, sighing. That girl truly was useless. What Bianca saw in her, Fame would never understand. She took one of the protein bars that Courtney had carefully lined up on the arm of the sofa beside her.

“I think you’d better head back to the office and prepare the conference room for the investor presentation.”

“Oh, but did you need anything el-”

“No, I’m much more concerned with the meeting,” Fame said. “Everything needs to be perfect. These people will be paying attention to every little detail.”

“Yes, Miss.”

“Oh, and take this back with you…” Fame handed over a large manila envelope. “It’s some sketches I’ve been working on.”

“Sure.” Courtney began to put the envelope into her bag, and Fame’s eyes widened with alarm.

“Don’t bend them! For god’s sake…”

“Sorry Miss,” Courtney said, biting her lip, holding the envelope at her side. “Is there anything else you need before I-”

“No. That’s all.”

***

Courtney sat in the back of a cab, eyes squeezed tightly shut, using the time in traffic to center herself and go over her massive to do list. She had to make sure that all the presentations for the meeting were set up, work with IT to test it, messenger out the holiday gifts that Miss Fame added at the last minute, make sure the schedule for January was in order, set up her out of office reply…

Plus, the meeting with the investors wouldn’t begin until they were back from the restaurant, so the “half day” was looking more and more like a full day. At this point, settling in at Bianca’s felt like it was a million years away--and traffic crawling at a standstill didn’t help anything.

She pulled out her phone. Maybe she could set up some of the gift deliveries now, while she was stuck in the cab.

When they were finally in sight of the Galactica building, her phone started buzzing. She looked at the screen. Miss Fame. That couldn’t be anything good.

Courtney took a deep breath and answered, stomach tightening.

“Hello?”

“Courtney!” Miss Fame’s voice was sharp, sharper than usual. “Do you ever use your head? Or do you just go through life without a shred of critical thinking?”

It was fairly obvious that it was a rhetorical question, so Courtney kept her mouth shut, wondering what had gone wrong, what mess she’d have to clean up now.

[dustyblinds]

happy rpf monday! what are you cooking? 😁

hi again Carers of Zee's WIPs! i did a separate ask where i talked about underrated ships i'm writing about that can be found here

and so on this ask (thank u btw i love to yap 😭🙏🏾) let's talk about the head ship in charge joe'marr!! i'm currently writing 3 fics but one is kinda... so i'll talk about the two i like 😛

okay first is this silly fic that i dont have any snippets from just a description lol:

Tee asks to meet Joe’s girlfriend while they’re away in Louisiana.

so essentially i wanted this to be a super short fic told from Tee's perspective where he's been asking Joe since their rookie year about a girlfriend that he's always going to see on their byes and like offseason and Joe always indulges in his questions. but the silly part is that there is no girlfriend and Joe never told Tee the whole truth abt who he was seeing all those years 😭 so they have a game out in Louisiana and on the plane ride there Tee is like can I finally meet your gf and he figures it out when he sees how Joe is around Ja'Marr pregame.

some stuff im still figuring out abt this one is if i want Ja'Marr to play for the saints in this universe (shivers...) or if he's just living out in NOLA being a wag you know 🙏🏾 it'll come to me

the other fic that i'll share is abt them in college actually & in true zee joemarr fashion (that you just learned a few sentences ago) only joe plays football in this one & ja'marr hoops ����

here's the description (mind you, the descriptions are just for me to write around so if it sounds corny... idk what to tell you but trust the process 😭)

Uno is playing March Madness basketball and Joe is preparing for the draft. Joe is falling (fast).

OKAY: so it takes place at LSU, mostly after the college football championship, between late January and March Madness. it's told from Joe's POV & they know each other previously, but get closer after Joe's season ends and he has time to start going to Ja'Marr's games.

i want it to be introspective of Joe trying to figure out what's going on between him and Ja'Marr but lowkey not realizing that even though Uno is entertaining him March Madness is a big deal for him and it gets really stressful and tense and yeah 🙏🏾

here are some snippets of this!!

when they meet:

“I’m Ja’Marr, by the way,” Justin’s company– Ja’Marr’s– voice cut into the sound of the tape (and registered later than Joe would like to admit). The room had previously been swamped with a tangible silence, so heavy that Joe had nearly omitted the reality of someone else being in the room from his memory.

“Joe,” he said plainly. He turned up the volume slightly so that Ja’Marr would get the idea that he was busy. The game was less than a week away and Joe was adamant on analyzing all of Florida’s games this season so that he would have a solid plan for practice in a few days.

“Justin told me you don’t talk much,” Ja’Marr moved to the couch and sat on the opposite end of Joe, “you watching Florida?”

Joe paused the film, the second time he’d done so this morning for interruption instead of study, at the realization of two things: he was not going to be able to get anything done with Ja’Marr chatting at him, and he liked the way Ja’Marr pronounced it Flo'da just then.

next excerpt is the first time Uno asks Joe to come to a game (after the cfb championship):

“Make sure you come to one of my games before you leave.”

As much as Joe liked Ja’Marr, and appreciated his company at the moment, he didn’t like basketball. At all. Generally, the regular season games were anticlimactic and pretty much identical. There were about three things you could do in basketball: pass, catch, and shoot. None of which excited Joe very much. When it came to basketball, his stance was that if he’s seen one game, he’s seen them all.

“I don’t know, I’m not really a basketball guy,” he trailed.

“That’s ‘cause you ain’t ever seen me play,” Ja’Marr stuck his pinky out, “I promise, it’ll be the best game you’ve been to.”

Hesitantly, Joe reached across the table and wrapped his pinky in Ja’Marr’s.

“Bet,” he smiled and bounced their laced fingers before letting go, “Our next home game is against Florida. I’ll send you my schedule.”

And, well, that would be unnecessary. Joe could easily access their schedule from the school’s athletic website. But, Ja’Marr was a little too enthusiastic at the thought of him coming to a game, and he got to hear him say Flo'da for the first time in a while, so he didn’t mention it. Instead, he said, “I’ll look out for it.”

(peep the handshake lol...)

random excerpt i like:

It’s hard to tell from the stands just how bad a foul is, and shit, if Joe were out there he would flop too. He couldn’t imagine getting physical on the court, bruises, scratches, the whole nine yards, and not getting any calls.

He reaches out and examines Ja’Marr’s arm up close. His fingers lightly brush over the scratches on his bicep, wincing at their severity. Ja’Marr all but flinched at the contact but kept himself steady under Joe’s touch. And to think he almost got a tech for pleading his case. Bullshit.

His eyes dragged further down to where Ja’Marr’s sleeve was earlier, tattoos on display without it now. His fingers followed his eyes, tracing over all the ink he didn’t understand. Ja’Marr was so placid under Joe’s touch, his skin too soft, too inviting.

“Looks like it hurts.” Scratches, tattoos, none of his teammates defending him. It all looks like it hurts. Joe contained himself.

Ja’Marr tilts his head slightly, angling his arm for a better look, “it do?”

“They foul you a lot.”

He smiles, “they do that when you good.”

Despite the on-court protests, he relished the way other teams guarded him in a way Joe didn’t understand. As a spectator, the fouls were a little hard to watch. He found himself holding his breath more than once when Ja’Marr drew contact.

“You think I played good, Burrow?”

“I don’t understand a lot of the rules,” Joe started, “but you had a lot of points.”

“Do you think,” Ja’Marr lowers his voice as if the place is occupied by anyone other than them, “did I look good?”

There weren’t too many things that could fluster Joe or cause him to lose his composure, and it was apparent that Ja’Marr Chase would constantly be the one to find new ways to accomplish just that. The question was miles away from what Joe was expecting, lightyears even. It left his brain scrambling to form a group of coherent words, let alone a full, thoughtful response.

Honestly, the answer was yes. Hell yes. His ball handling skills, no look passes, fast-break shots in transition, how vocal he was directing his teammates while bringing the ball down the court. There was something very attractive about it.

OKAY YAY!!! thanks for reading lmk if you want more heh.. i have a lot from the second fic but i want it to be kinda long so dont expect it soon... as for the first one like i said it's practically just an idea in my head rn LMAO but if you have any thoughts or qs lmk!!! :)

thank you so much for the ask 🤍

[just-the-hiddles]

Fic Teasers | August 19, 2020

Hello my peeps!   I hope everyone is having a good week!  I have two new fics coming this week.  Tomorrow (20th), I have the first part of another Adam and Charlie story called Career Change.  This is the next story in the chronology of these two.  The second part will post next week.  And then on Saturday (22nd), I have the Sir Thomas Sharpe breeding kink fic, Fill You.  

As always, tag lists are open as is tagging for any individual story.  Please let me know if you wish to be tagged on either story or added to The Whole Enchilada (everything), Hiddles (Tom Hiddleston RPF stories only), and/or Loki.

-

Career Change | Adam x Charlie | Part 1

“Adam. I met Eve. And she was smart. Not to mention well versed in your moods. She made a choice.”

Adam shrugged. “I still could have stopped her.”

Simone chuckled. “I highly doubt that. Not even on her worst day could anyone stop Eve once she set her mind to something.”

“And what does this have to do with Charlie?”

“You can’t bring Eve back by keeping Charlie caged up in a triple decker in Quincy. She needs to get back to a new normal. Which includes her leaving the house.”

Adam fell back onto the bed, covering his face before popping back up. “How can I help?”

“To begin with, stop ordering in. Groceries and food. Go at night with her at first if it makes you feel better. But she needs to get out now. And second, continue to encourage her to maintain her friendships. Finally, she needs to get a job.”

Adam’s eyes snapped to the screen. “I can provide for her.”

“A job is more than money, Adam. You know Charlie. She needs to feel useful. She needs to help people. Am I right?”

“Yes.” Adam agreed, albeit begrudgingly.

“I appreciate that. I recognize that was hard for you.” Adam gave a half smile. Simone rubbed her hands together. “That is all I needed to talk to you about today. Thank you for keeping an eye on her nutrition and oh, I almost forgot I am sending Charlie some homework for our next session on Monday. Make sure she gets it done over the weekend.”

“What is it?”

“An aptitude test.”

Adam rolled his eyes.

-

Adam paced the living room floor as Charlie hunched over the computer, sitting on the green velveteen sofa. He glowered every time he overheard the clicking of the mouse or Charlie chuckle.

“You realize those tests are complete horse shit?” Adam snapped, holding his chin between his thumb and index finger.

“Mmm hmm.” Charlie responded. Her eyes remained glued to the computer screen. Adam stopped pacing and dropped his hands to the side.

“Are you even listening to me, Charlie?” His eyes bore into her.

Fill You | Sir Thomas Sharpe x Reader

“Darling,” Thomas pulled you from your thoughts as the bedroom doors clicked behind.

Thomas Sharpe appeared even more resplendent by moonlight as he did in daylight. His dark looks perfectly coiffed and a stark contrast against his pale skin and shockingly blue eyes. He still wore his suit coat and brand new white waistcoat, purchased for the occasion. His lips curved into a devilish smile as he took in the sight of you in your wedding gown, waiting for him.

“Yes, Thomas?” you struggled to hold your voice steady. He moved to meet you, shedding his coat on the journey, folding onto the back of a chair.

“Finally alone.” He stepped in front of you and took your hands into his before kissing your lips with a tenderness. “I thought your father would never stop talking.”

You chuckled. Your father, the famed mercantile, had the reputation for verbose speeches.

“Mother had promised to ‘lose’ his speech notes. I shall chastise her at breakfast.”

“Unnecessary, my love.” Thomas cupped your face and kissed you deeply. His fingers teasing along the nape of your neck. Your hands moved greedily along his torso.

“Thomas…” you breathed. “… I need you.”

“I need you too… now. And I am too impatient to undress you properly.”

He teased up your skirt and petticoats up past your knees and further until the fabric gathered around your hips. You leaned back against the bed, mattress creaking. Thomas smirked as he unfastened his trousers and freed his cock, already hard.

[fairestcat]

We Did The Thing: Musings On the AO3, Wiscon, and Winning the Fandom Culture Wars

HOLY SHIT WE WON A MOTHERFUCKING HUGO.

Ahem.

More seriously - or at least more verbosely - I think we won the fandom culture wars. How weird is that?

This is a sort of rambly post. It's about the OTW and the AO3, but it's also about Wiscon, because that's the community I'm in where old-school SFF fandom and transformative works fandom collide, and it's where I've watched this transformation happen over the last decade.

Back in October I made a tumblr post about the history of the OTW/AO3: On the AO3 all these years later.

That post is mostly just quotes from the comments to @astolat's original post that started the AO3: An Archive Of One's Own - and quotes from the post I made back then linking to hers:  An Archive of One's Own, Or: Why Shouldn't We Ask For Everything We Want?

Those posts are from May 2007. I was on the OTW Finance Committee by that fall.

One year later, in May 2008, I went to my first Wiscon. I was on two panels: "Fanfic and Slash 201," and "Fanfic Rising: The Organization for Transformative Works."

They were back to back on Saturday night. "Fanfic and Slash 201" from 9:00 to 10:15 and the OTW panel from 10:30 to 11:45. All fanworks panels at non fanworks-specific cons were late night panels back then. Or, occasionally, on Monday morning after half the con had gone home.

I don't remember who else was on the Fanfic 201 panel, but the OTW panel was me, @oliviacirce and ellen_fremedon. The three of us had never met before that con. @oliviacirce and I had been in Chicago Friday night for a Panic! At the Disco concert and hadn't gotten back to Madison until 3am. I have no idea how we were even still coherent for a 10:30 PM panel.

None of us wrote the panel description, which reads even more impressively antagonistic in retrospect.

"The Organization for Transformative Works (OTW), led by fanfic writers, fan vidders, and fan artists (including writer Naomi Novik) seeks to establish a new regime in copyright law, in which 'all fannish works are recognized as legal and transformative and are accepted as a legitimate creative activity.' Should there be an exception for fanfic under copyright? Is OTW a good idea? (Some fans are afraid that OTW's activities will end BigMedia's tolerance for fannish creations.) What does the law say? What's the viewpoint of those who create original works -- should authors lose control of their original creations, as long as fans claim protection under a fanfic exception? And what about OTW's commitment to offer protection for RPF (Real People Fanfic)?"

At the time I would have said it was a pretty good panel, and yet we spent a distressing percentage of the panel defending the mere right of fanworks to even exist.

I went back to Wiscon in 2009, which was an...eventful year. It was the first Wiscon post-Racefail and it sparked a lot of discussion of intersecting modes of fannishness and particularly online fandom vs. offline con-based fandom, which was at the time a much bigger divide.

Wiscon 2009 was also the year @ellen_fremedon went to a panel on historical fiction, and got jumped on by Ellen Klages, who was one of that year's Guests of Honor, for the sin of mentioning fanfic in her presence.

After that Wiscon I posted Wiscon, Media Fandom and The Larger Fannish Conversation, about my experience of that divide, particularly as a transformative works fan at Wiscon.

Here's the thing: online media and fanfic fandom is a vibrant, active community within broader SF fandom. [...] And to a large extent media fandom is where the young female fans are, the women who are the future of fandom. We're there at Wiscon too; I was amazed by the number of people from LJ fandom I saw at the con this year. And yet, when it comes to having a voice in larger fandom, we're still the embarrassing cousin shuffled off into the corner (or the hotel lobby). Even at Wiscon, the feminist science fiction convention, we're mostly under the radar, carving out a tiny niche for ourselves.

Last year we had two general, broad-topic fanfic panels. This year we had a fanfic panel, a vidding panel and the media vs. book fandom panel, which was not explicitly a media fandom panel but had an audience heavily weighted towards media fandom participants. And I walked into those panels and I thought "Here! Here are my people!" But it was frustrating too. Why are we relegated to the corner, why are we willing to be relegated to the corner? The conversations we're having, the things we're doing, they don't exist in a vacuum, they're relevant to the larger fannish conversation, they're especially relevant, I think, to the conversation going on at Wiscon. And I think it's time we were a bigger, more open part of that conversation.

So, we set out to make that happen. The OTW and the AO3 were a big part of that. Everyone who was worried at the time that the OTW would bring too much attention to fandom was right to be afraid. And wrong to be afraid too. Because that attention was how everything started to change. The OTW was fandom coming out of the closet, and like any coming out it was a powerful, transformative moment for those involved.

In 2010, a group of fans held the first ever Wiscon Vid Party. 

At Wiscon in 2010, we held the first ever vid party in one of these hospitality suites on the Saturday night, from 9pm to 3am. That's six hours of vid programming! It was mostly unthemed, other than "here are some amazing vids!"[...] The general vibe of the party was loud, a little bit raucous, and pretty informal. We had a mixture of sofas and armchairs, stackable seating, and standing room. People came and went at will. We put a sign on the door asking people to keep conversations to a minimum, and it worked pretty well to keep chatter down while still allowing people to relax and have a good time. It was pretty much like a really big living room.

I missed that con due to the whole move to Canada and get married thing I did, but I remember my first Vid Party in 2012, looking around the party room and having this amazing feeling of being surrounded by my people.

I loved Wiscon, but it was always a fraught experience. There was always this worry that I'd say the wrong thing in the wrong place and suddenly get that disappointed, "oh, you're one of those fans," response. The vid party was the one place at the con that you could just walk in and that worry went away.

And then there started being more of those places. We started suggesting more and more fic and vid related panels.

In 2012, @oliviacirce and I were both on two transformative works panels. "What makes a great transformative work?" and "Fans Fix SF." In a step up from previous fanworks panels at Wiscon they were both during the day. But they were also both in the smallest panel rooms at the con, and both panels fit comfortably into those rooms. Conference 5, where "Fans Fix SF" was held, is still the only room Wiscon uses for programming that's so small it isn't wired for microphones.

And then in 2013 I suggested ten panels for Wiscon and nine of them ended up on the schedule. They weren't all explicitly transformative fandom panels, but a lot of them were, and most of the panel descriptions were informed by my experience in transformative works fandom. Looking back, that was a sea-change moment, because an interesting thing happened. There mostly stopped being transformative fandom-specific panels at Wiscon, because it started being okay, even expected, that fanfic and other transformative works might come up on any panel, from the audience or the panelists.

At Wiscon 2018, I went to a panel on #OwnVoices fiction. Every panelist was a published author and/or professional editor. In the course of the panel, every panelist mentioned fanfic in general or the AO3 in specific in an explicitly complementary fashion. I nearly burst into tears in the back of the panel room.

Afterwards, I met up with @oliviacirce and ellen_fremedon to flail about it, at which point we realized that it had been ten years since that first fateful OTW panel where we all met. And that ten years both felt like so long ago, and also so recent for everything to have changed so completely.

At Wiscon 2019, the three of us were on another panel together. We called it "Fanfic: Threat or Menace - Ten Years Later," and this time I wrote the description:

Do you remember a time before the AO3? Do you remember a time when mentioning fanfic at Wiscon risked a lecture on its illegality and/or immorality? We sure do! In 2008 we met on the panel “Fanfic Rising: The Organization for Transformative Works,” & spent most of our time defending the right of fanworks to exist. In 2018 we were amazed to realize just how much had changed. Let’s talk about how the perception & reception of fanworks have changed, both in fandom at large and right here at Wiscon.

We made it onto the schedule. They once again put us in the smallest panel room. We looked around the lobby on Thursday night and said, "yeah, that ain't happening." We eventually moved to one of the largest panel rooms.

It was almost completely full.

I started the panel by reading out the original panel description from 2008. There was laughter! revolutionaryjo came up afterwards and asked to take a picture of the description on my phone. There were so many people in that room who had no idea what the Wiscon of a decade previous had been like. It was amazing.

Best Related Work? The OTW and AO3 changed the nature of the relationship between fic readers and writers and the entirety of mainstream organized SFF fandom.

The Wiscon Vid Party is still happening, and it's still a marathon of amazing vids, but it's not a really big living room anymore. The Vid Party is the Friday night feature in the biggest panel room. There are Premieres. There’s a sing-a-long. People come who have never watched a vid outside of Wiscon. People come who've never even heard of vids outside of Wiscon. The first year the Vid Party was in the big room, I walked into the room just before the show started, looked around, and realized I didn't recognize ⅔ of the people in the room. And I was so happy. Because I no longer need the Vid Party as a safe space to let down my guard, the entire con is now that place.

We did that. We made that happen.

The OTW made that happen. The AO3 made that happen. But also, a whole lot of individual fans made that happen. We stepped out of our corner, we stepped out of our closet. We demanded a seat at the table. And now we have a motherfucking HUGO AWARD, and when Naomi Novik got on stage at the Hugos and asked everyone who felt that they were part of the AO3 to stand up to be acknowledged, a notable number of this year's other Hugo nominees were among the attendees who got to their feet.

[ladyreapermc]

Fic: This isn’t a rom-com (1/?)

Author’s notes: So this was basically the first thing I started writing when I got back to Keanu fandom after Parabellum, but it remained sitting on my files because it still felt weird to write and share rpf. But after so many rewrites, I think I’m finally ready to do it. I’ll be posting new chapters every Monday and I’d love some feedback. The entire thing is set in 2013.

Wordcount: 2174

Warnings: none for this part

Part 2   Part 3  Part 4 Part 5

As Lilah stood outside the address given to her, she took a deep breath and asked herself for the third time what was she thinking when she let Isaac talk her into doing this. She had so much to do.

Sure, she had the morning off since her advisor was out of town for a conference, but Lilah still could have been prepping her Monday class or even reviewing her paper.

But Isaac knew her too well. He argued that it had been ages since she had taken a day to herself and as soon as the words movie set came out of his mouth, she dropped everything else and came running. The prospect of since the cinema magic working up close was too good to pass up.

So, she waited outside the set, waiting until Isaac finally showed up, dark curls sticking to his reddish face, probably from jogging through the building. He flashed the security staff a quick bright smile, before ushering Lilah inside, guiding the way through a maze of corridors, walking so fast Lilah barely had the time to take a proper look at everything.

“Thanks so much for doing this, Lih! You’re a lifesaver,” he commented over his shoulder. “One of our extras just didn’t show up today and we’re behind schedule already.”

“It’s fine,” she said as they stopped by a table where an agitated looking brunette sat with a clipboard and walkie-talkie. She checked Lilah’s ID, before collecting her contact information and telling Isaac to take her to the wardrobe department to change.

Before Lilah could even finish shoving her ID back in her pocket, Isaac was whisking her away.

“So, what kind of movie is this?” Lilah asked as she exchanged her street clothes for the costume, a beautiful red dress, and some killer heels. “It’s not a rom-com, is it? Izzy, I’ll kill you if you’re making me play extra in a rom-com.”

“It’s an action flick, relax,” he replied, and Lilah could actually hear the eye-roll in his tone. “I will never understand your hatred for rom-coms.”

“What’s to like about them?” she asked stepping out of the dressing room. “They sell women unrealistic, almost pathological expectations for love and romance, also…”

“Lih, this isn’t your dissertation. You don’t have to always take it so seriously.” Isaac said cutting her off as he led her to the hair and makeup chair.

“I mean, one can appreciate all the clichés without really thinking it’s gonna happen to them. I mean, how many couples do you know that started as two unlikely people that are perfect for each other having that first meet-cute then moving on to silently pinning over each other. Then having the classic love triangle that might lead to the epic conflict and break up so they can have a heartfelt reunion later, with the grand romantic gesture, the speech and finally their happy ending…”

And even though Isaac’s words pointed out the improbability of it, his dreamy tone told Lilah he still hoped it could happen to him someday.

Lilah rolled her eyes fondly because he was such a hopeless romantic.

She, on the other hand, prided herself on being pragmatic. She believed in love, of course. She wasn’t that jaded at twenty-nine; but to Lilah, love wasn’t something that just happened. You didn’t just stumble on the love of your life by accident someday.

“You look smoking, honey!” Isaac declared, snapping Lilah out of her thoughts. “Come on! Chad and David are already on set and ready to shoot.”

Lilah only had time to grab her bag before he was leading her once again through the maze of corridors to and ample room that looked a lot like a speakeasy, from the jazz band on the stage, to the smoky air, dim lighting and leather booths.

“Now all you have to do is sit still and look pretty.” He flashed her a teasing smile and ignored her eye-roll. “I’ll check on you during lunch break.”

Lilah waved her goodbye and watched as he moved to a pair of men standing by some monitors talking. They exchanged a few words, before Isaac disappeared again, probably off to run another task.

They filmed for around two hours straight. Lilah couldn’t see much of was going on because her table was facing the band and away from the area the camera seemed to be focused on and she couldn’t exactly turn to see, even if she really wanted to, but she managed to sneak a couple of glances whenever they called cut.

“Ok everybody, let’s take 15,” one of the directors announced.

Lilah stood up, stretching her back to work out the kinks of being sitting still for too long in an uncomfortable chair.

She took a few moments to search for Isaac, but he was nowhere around the main room and Lilah didn’t want to risk getting lost in the building. Instead, she picked a water bottle and a protein bar from craft service and looked for a quiet place to wait for filming to resume.

Lilah found a hidden corner in of the set, out of the way from most of the staff and quiet enough that she could pull out her book. She settled on one of the free chairs to read a little. Soon, she was absorbed by the text, shutting off everything else until a passage caught her attention, and Lilah couldn’t help but snort at it and offer a counterargument under her breath.

“Are you pro or against dualism?” Someone asked from just outside her line of vision, probably catching the cover of her book when Lilah held it closed while digging for a pen in her bag.

“Against obviously,” Lilah replied with a small snort as she looked up, her eyes going wide at the sight before her. Shock making her drop her pen and book, which he picked up.

“Really?” He asked with a curious frown. “Why?”

Lilah as she stared at him, she couldn’t get her throat to work.

He was so much taller than he looked on the screen, with broad shoulders and a strong chest. His dark hair was slicked back with gel, the tips touching his nape. He was spotting a well-trimmed beard, some fake bruises, and a black three-piece suit. Lilah didn’t think anyone could be this handsome, but she was obviously wrong.

“Where are my manners…” he said offering a hand. “Hi. I'm Keanu.”

The gestured kickstarted Lilah’s brain again and she shook his hand with a quick, embarrassed laugh.

“I’m sorry! Hi. Lilah,” she rushed to say. “I’m Lilah.”

“Nice to meet you, Lilah,” he said with a warm smile.

“So, you don’t believe in the mind…” he commented, handing her pen and book back and Lilah did her best to smooth the wrinkled edge.

“As an immaterial entity that exists apart from our bodies like Descartes proposed? Not really. I mean, let’s face it, he just gave it a pseudo-scientific look to the idea of a soul.”

Lilah looked up from her book, catching the way he was watching her with a smile.

“Sorry,” she huffed a breath with an embarrassed smile. Was she really babbling about dualism to Keanu Reeves?

“No, no,” he assured, taking a seat next to her. “Go ahead.”

“Uh… well,” she hesitated, glancing at him again. “I mean, it’s been what? A couple of thousand years? Probably more, but we still can figure out what the mind is.”

“I always thought of it as what makes us human. Theoretically, of course.”

“Ok but wouldn’t that be more like what it does than what it is?” she pointed out. “But let’s run with it, anyway. How does a mind make us human?”

“Well, for one, isn’t it supposed to give us a conscience, intelligence, all that…” Keanu trailed off with a hand gesture and Lilah smiled.

“But those brain functions. Are we saying the mind is the brain?” she couldn’t contain the way her smile widening even more. This was fun.

She loved talking philosophy, but Lilah rarely had the chance of doing it outside a classroom. And here she was actually talking dualism with fucking Neo!

“If it was the same thing, why would we need two concepts?” he inquired, brow furrowing in a small thoughtful frown.

“You just made my point for me,” Lilah said, and Keanu chuckled. “And it can’t be part of the brain either, because theories seem to agree that the mind isn’t material and our brains are very material.”

“Maybe there’s another dimension out there,” he offered with a shrug, leaning forward on his elbows which brought him closer to Lilah.

She bit her bottom lip to suppress the urge of making a Matrix joke.

“Ok, but then how is something that is immaterial influences our very material selves?”

Lilah watched as Keanu paused, considering her argument, that thoughtful frown returning, and Lilah took that time to admire him. If her teen self could see her now, she would probably have a heart attack. Keanu had been her movie crush for as far as she could remember, ever since she watched the Matrix for the first time.

And here he was, in the flesh, just talking to her. It was almost surreal. Was this a dream? Was she going to awake any minute in her bed?

“Alright, you got me,” he said with a smile, catching her attention. “I have no idea, but don’t you think there should be something there? Shouldn’t a man be more than just atoms and chemicals? Something more transcendental?”

“What? You’re a Kant man?”

The words were out of her mouth before she could contain herself. Her tongue slipping on the pronunciation, making it sound like a completely different thing and Keanu busted out laughing, turning bright red.

It took a second for Lilah to realize how it sounded, but when she did, she covered her face with her hands, mortified.

“Oh my God! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean…”

“It’s ok,” he assured, still chuckling. “It’s fine. Really. I am not a Kantian, no but I can see the value in his transcendental man theory.”

Lilah tried to make her mouth work, to say something else but all she managed was an embarrassed chuckle. She could feel her cheeks burning.

“I’m so, so sorry…” she managed, voice coming out muffled. “I just…”

“Sometimes you forget to double-check what are you saying before putting it out there?” He asked with a soft smile and she nodded. “I do that all the time. Don’t worry.”

“Is there a way to fix that?” she asked, finally lowering her hands.

“I’ll let you know when I find it,” he replied with a little smile, before he ducked his head, letting out a small chuckle.

For a moment they just sat there, still chuckling together, cheeks red and awkwardly avoiding each other’s gaze, until someone cleared their throat behind them and making both turn around to look.

Isaac stood there with his hand pressed to the earpiece he wore and a clipboard in hand. Lilah could see he was barely containing his smirk as he looked between her and Keanu and she winced, wondering how much he had heard.

“Sorry to interrupt. Keanu, Chad needs you.”

“Thank you,” Keanu said getting up and turning to look at Lilah. “It was very nice to meet you, Lilah.”

“You too,” she replied with a small smile, watching as he walked away before turning to look at Isaac with wide eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell me you worked with Keanu Reeves?”

“I don’t work with him, I work around him,” Isaac pointed out with a frown. “Also, that was the nerdiest flirting I’ve ever seen.”

“What are you talking about? I wasn’t flirting.”

“Yeah, right!” Isaac snorted in disbelief. “Come on. Break’s over.”

Lilah followed Isaac back to the main area of the set and the same table from before. This time, she caught a glimpse of Keanu chatting with one of the directors. She thought his lips quirked into a smile when he saw her, but she was probably just imagining as she sat down again.

“Shit! I should have asked for an autograph. Or is that too weird?” Lilah asked Isaac.

She was doing so well, but that Kant thing threw her off and she went right back to that strange awkwardness she usually had around people she found attractive. Lilah really thought she had outgrown that.

“It’s not weird. Extras ask for autographs all the time,” Isaac said with a shrug. “And maybe while you at it, you can ask him out.”

“Haha.” Lilah rolled her eyes at the way Isaac wiggled his eyebrows at her. “Isaac, no! It’s Keanu Reeves. Are you nuts?”

“Fine,” he replied with a huff, but the glint of amusement in his eyes didn’t fade. “But you do know what that felt like right?”

Lilah frowned in confusion and he flashed her an excited grin.

“It felt straight out of a rom-com.”

­­­tbc

Go to part 2

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[queen-of-the-avengers]

Friendly Competition

Characters: Chris Evans x Reader

Word Count: 1,330

Warnings: just fluff

Summary: You drag Chris in your childhood traditions, and it’s a lot more fun than you anticipated.

Author’s Note: If you have any requests, please send them in! This is unbeta’d and any and all mistakes are all on me. I AM SO SORRY I DIDN’T REALIZE YESTERDAY WAS THE FIRST DAY OF DECEMBER OMG BAD ME

This is the December 1st fic for my 25 Days of RPF Christmas and the prompt is “You murdered my snowman.”

I am doing an 800 Follower Challenge and it would be awesome if you participated! It’s still going on!

Feedback the glue that holds my writing together

Tags at the bottom

Some of the best things to do this time of year is to watch Christmas movies. What’s better than that, is watching them with your boyfriend Chris. Anything is better when you get to do it with him. He makes even the smallest chore seem like the best time of his life. Like now, you two are sitting on the couch, watching The Nightmare Before Christmas, even though he claims it as a Halloween movie, and you a Christmas movie. It didn’t matter since you both love that movie anyway. He likes to sing along to the songs, and if you’re lucky, you get to record him doing it.

To top off your evening, there is a mountain of snow outside. Christmas is your absolute favorite holiday because of reasons like this. Every year, you and your family got to enjoy the “white Christmas” package: pure white snow, snow angels, snowmen, Christmas music, and have you mentioned snow? Despite hating the cold with a passion, you love it when it snowed. It’s especially nice when you wake up to an ice-cold room because that tells you it’s been snowing all night. You love looking outside before anyone is awake to see the fresh blanket. It lays untouched by humans which is why it makes it so pure.

One of your favorite things to do as a child is not only making snow angels but to have a snowman competition. You have a lot of brothers, and they’re competitive by nature, so you would all compete to see whose snowman would be the best. Whoever won didn't have to do any chores for the week. Every Monday, you and your brothers would go outside to make the same contest. It gave you something to do, and your parents didn’t mind the healthy competition.

You grew out of it the sport when you moved out and started dating Chris, but you keep thinking how fun it would be to bring it back. You wouldn’t compete for chores, but something else. Chris loves competitions since he can really get into it. Not as bad as your brothers, but still. The movie is about halfway through when you look outside to see the fresh blanket. There hasn’t been a lot of foot traffic in your neighborhood, so the snow looks as if it has been untouched.

“Chris?” you ask and pause the movie. He was really into it because you heard a little groan leave his lips once you pressed the button.

“Yeah?”

“Want to do something fun?”

“We are. We’re watching The Nightmare Before Christmas.”

“Yes, but how about something more fun?”

“What’s on your mind?” he asks and scratches at his beard. He loves growing it out whenever he gets a break from filming. He claims he hates shaving it off since it’s always a hassle to get every hair follicle.

“Let’s go make some snowmen.”

“It’s so cold outside,” he whines. He hates the cold about as much as you do, but you don’t let this deter you.

“Let me put it this way, let’s have a snowman competition. Loser has to do whatever the winner says for an entire week. Each week, we’ll do another competition with the same bet. Are you interested in it now?”

“Maybe,” he thinks about it.

“My snowman is going to kick your snowman’s ass.”

“I’m in,” he decides.

“Okay, we each have one hour to make the best snowman you can. This is your half of the hard, and this is mine. We can go into the house for anything that is considered as accessories, but we can’t make more than one so no family! Just one snowman each. Got it?”

“Yeah, yeah, just set the timer.”

“Okay go!” you set the timer. As soon as the clock began counting down the hour, you and Chris rush to make the base of the snowman. This is a friendly competition, but you can’t help but turn it into anything but that. The yard is big, but you can see each other’s snowman if you simply look over. To prevent this from happening, you agreed to turn your backs to each other and build that way so the temptation to look won’t overcome your need to create.

“I want you to know my snowman is coming along just nicely!” Chris announces.

“Don’t be a jackass!”

“Just saying, you might lose this!” he laughs.

“I’m your dreams, Evans!”

The playful banter is just that—playful. You’re almost done with your snowman, but it’s missing something. The rules state that you can go into the house and pick anything that might be used as an accessory, and you know just the thing. You believe simple is the best way to go. You don’t want a snowman to be over the top which is what Chris is going to do. You don’t have to look over to know.

The thing that’s missing is some carrots and chocolate chip cookies. You don’t have coal, so you think that the small cookies you made a while ago will be perfect eyes. Growing with excitement, you ran into the house with only one thing in mind. You take two carrots and two small cookies and head back outside.

Chris’ snowman looks like a pure masterpiece, but yours tells a different story. When you left, your snowman reached the point of perfection, but it’s the complete opposite now. Red blood covers your snowman. In the middle of each red blotch are sticks that could be found around your property.

There was a lot of fake blood left over from your Halloween party, and this little asshole decided it would be a good idea to use some of it now. Chris stands next to his snowman with a faux innocent looking on his face.

“Christopher,” you warn.

“What?” he asks, shifting his eyes from you to your snowman. The little shit pretends to be shocked at the state of your snowman. “How did that happen?”

“You fucking murdered my snowman, you bitch. What the fuck?” you gasp. He meets you over by your snowman to inspect the damage as if this is the first time he’s seen this.

“I don’t know how this happened.”

“You’re about to. Say goodbye to yours,” you grin. The bucket of blood rests by his feet, and you snatch it off the ground. You run as best as you can in the snow over to his, but he’s faster.

“Oh no you don’t,” he yells playfully. He doesn’t think twice about tackling you to the ground. The snow is so thick and fluffy that it doesn’t hurt when you go down. The blood falls all over the place, making this the bloodiest Christmas you’ve ever had.

“Chris! Look at what you did!” you laugh. You turn around so you’re facing him, and your hair sprawls all around you.

“It’s not my fault.”

“You murdered my snowman!”

“I think Santa did that. He was angry you made such a bad one,” he teases.

“Fuck you,” you laugh. The snow around you makes your skin paler than it already is. Your cheeks give off a pinkish hue, and your lips are almost too white.

“You’re freezing,” he comments.

“I’m going to be okay,” you shudder. This is the first time you let the cold sink in. Before, you were too busy to focus on how cold it is.

“Since I sabotaged your snowman, why don’t we settle who’s the winner inside? I’ll make us a bath and we can see who truly the winner in that situation is. Spoiler alert, it’s me.”

“You got yourself a deal, Evans,” you grin. He leans down and kisses you briefly before pulling away. He held you to your feet, and you leave the yard the way it is. It’ll give whoever passes by it a Christmas awakening. Not all Christmases end in white snow and perfect presents, although you had a feeling yours will.

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[coffee-obsessed-writer]

A Haunting in Salem

Dean Winchester x Bi!Reader (Past); Reader x Raylin Stanley (OFC); Carly (OFC)

Summary: Five years ago you quit hunting, and are now engaged to a beautiful and successful NYC Attorney, Raylin. A mysterious case file arrives at your home office, and you immediately know that it's from your ex-boyfriend and hunting partner, Dean Winchester. It’s not just any case, it was your first case - the disappearance of her sister, Carly. Now, there’s activity again. Dean convinces you to help him out back in your hometown of Salem, posing as a honeymooning couple at the place where it all started, The Morning Glory Inn.

A/N: This is part 1 of 2 written for multiple bingo cards that go for both chapters. Its the first thing I’ve written and published in about a month, so please be gentle. New tag lists are at the end of the fic. I have tag spots open, let me know if you want to jump on or off for SPN (Dean and/or Sam, or RPF for Jensen)

@spngenrebingo Square filled: The Ex (part 1)

@spndeanbingo Square filled: Case Fic (part 1)

@spnfluffbingo2019 Square filled: Bed Sharing (part 2)

Warnings: (Part One): Language, Mild angst  

WC: 5.7K

The envelope arrived by messenger sometime around noon on Monday, but it was well into the evening before you got around to opening it. Inside was a manilla folder that made your heart stop cold. Scribbled across the top was handwriting that was familiar and one you had not seen in at least five years. You didn’t even care that there wasn’t a name signed at the bottom; you knew exactly who it was from. 

It started again. Thought you’d want to know.

You leaned back in your desk chair and held it in your hands for a while before you felt ready to open it. It wasn’t often the past came knocking, but whether you were ready or not, it was time to answer the door. 

Exhaling cautiously through shaky, pursed lips, you laid it flat and lightly ran your fingertips over the letters before flipping it open. Just as you suspected, it was a case file. You pulled the original envelope to the front and looked at the return address. It simply said, ‘Lebanon, Kansas’. 

It couldn’t be. Your throat went dry and your heart began to race. 

“Winchester,” you mumbled and sighed with defeat. “How the HELL did he find me?”

“You say something, babe?” Raylin asked from the kitchen, then peeked her head around the door and into your home office. “Were you calling me?”

“No,” you smiled sweetly at her as you casually covered the folder with the envelope. “Was just muttering to myself.”

“Well, don’t work too hard. Dinner will be ready in a few minutes. Hope you’re hungry. I made teriyaki.”

“I won’t, I promise. Just one more thing to read over. Then I’ll come set the table.”

“Alright,” Raylin smiled seductively, “just one more… then you’re mine for the night.” She raised her well-manicured brows suggestively. “Deal?”

“Yes, counselor,” you replied with a wink, hoping that your returned playfulness would cover the trembling you felt internally.

Raylin nodded in satisfaction and went back into the kitchen. You waited until she was out of sight and went back to the folder. 

Newspaper clippings, photographs, handwritten notes… everything your typical case file would contain. There wasn’t much time to go through everything right then, but from what you could see, this was a case file for a haunting. But not just any haunting; this one was from your hometown of Salem, Massachusetts.

“Dammit,” you muttered and raked your fingers through your hair. “Not again.”

Raylin prepared a delicious dinner, as she usually did, and carried on a lively retelling of her day in court. You listened and smiled, and reacted in all the right places; even managed to stay attentive and ask questions, too. Your mind, however, was back in the office with the folder that sat there, waiting.

Five years since you had a case file in hand but felt more like a lifetime ago. You’d left hunting behind, despite most hunters thinking it wasn’t possible. Five years in and so far you’d proved them wrong.

It hadn’t been an easy transition at first. You went somewhere that you thought you could get lost; where being a hunter, a spiller of blood and avenger of the innocent, wouldn’t find you. You had to find a nine to five job, learn your way around a new city, make new friends… then, maybe even try to find love again. It felt impossible, especially after what you had with the older Winchester brother, but in that time a brand new life fell into place. It just so happened to be one you loved. 

After dinner was cleared, you tried to put the folder, and case enclosed behind you. Doing your best to give your girlfriend all your attention, your mind betrayed you and continued to think about both that and Dean. Eventually, Raylin had you distracted enough to forget it all for a moment as she took you to bed. But when sleep finally came, it was plagued with nightmares and flashes of a life lived a long time ago. 

The next morning dawned bright, and as you began to wake from a fitful night’s sleep, you were assaulted with a spray of papers fluttering all over the bed.

“Morning,” Raylin said sharply. “Care to explain this now that you’re up?”

“What the Hell, Ray?” you groaned, sitting up on the bed and trying to focus on what just happened. As you came around to waking, you realized that the papers were from the case file. “Shit.”

“Yeah, shit. What the fuck? This again?”

“No, it’s not like that Ray…” you started, then rose from the bed and put on your robe lying on the chair beside the nightstand. “I got it in the mail yesterday, an old friend--”

“Him? You mean him… just say what it is, Y/N, its HIM.”

“Yes, Jesus. It’s Dean, okay!?”

“And there it is… I thought this was done, that you moved on.” Raylin’s expression was cold and staunch. You could feel her anger rising, and knew that meant a fight was brewing.

“I didn’t want it. I didn’t seek it out. It came to me. Please, let’s not do this, okay? I don’t want to fight with you, Ray.”

“Fight? Who’s fighting? I’m not raising my voice. I simply went into the office to see what had you so distracted last night. And, to my surprise, look at what I find... “ she tilted her head to the side, her stern-lawyerly demeanor seeping through. “The past coming back to bite you in the ass. You promised.”

“I promised I wouldn’t go looking. I stopped scanning the papers, didn’t I? I haven’t even brought it up in a year, Ray. Why do you think I would suddenly go after a case? HE sent it to ME.”

“And how does he even know how to find you. I thought you didn’t talk anymore.”

“We don’t. I have not seen or heard from Dean Winchester since I left him in a diner outside of Omaha five years ago. Trust me, he had zero desire to chase me. He sent this because--”

“I don’t care,” she said straightening her spine and adjusting the lapels of her blazer. “I have to leave for court. I would prefer that not be in the house when I get home.”

“Jesus, Ray… this case… he sent it because it’s important. It’s the ONE he knew I wouldn’t be able to let go. But--”

“This obsession of yours is going to get you killed!”

“What do you want me to say!? She was my sister and she straight up disappeared! How can I just let that go!?”

Ray seemed uncaring and cold anytime you brought up your sister, but that wasn’t anything new. Regardless of knowing what happened, she liked to pretend it never did. Anytime you brought up Carly, Ray just went blank. She drew in a deep breath to steady her nerves, the corners of her mouth pulling down into a tight, unforgiving grin. 

“I don’t know, Y/N. You just do,” she said and sighed heavily.

Raylin turned on her heel and walked out of the room calmly, but you could hear the hard snap of her Jimmy Choos on the hardwood as it echoed down the hallway. When the front door slammed a moment later, you jumped at the sound then cursed under your breath. Rubbing your hands over your face, you turned back towards the bed and gathered up the papers one by one. 

You didn’t want to start actually looking at them, because you knew that you would end up looking at ALL of them. As quickly as you could, you gathered them and shoved them back into the envelope. Just as you were about to leave the room and go shred them in the office, a piece that you had missed caught your attention. It was on the floor on Raylin’s side of the bed. Something about it felt familiar as you bent down to retrieve it. Picking it up as if it were radioactive, you held it out in front of you, pinched between two fingers. You tilted your head slightly to read the headline that spanned across the small newspaper clipping.

Two More Mysterious Disappearances at Salem’s Historical Morning Glory Inn Has Locals Fearing the Worst

“Shit,” you whispered as you felt your knees weaken. Grasping for the edge of the bed, you couldn’t deny your pull to the case. It wasn’t just because of your sister. Her disappearance from the Inn was one of many that Autumn so many years before. But it was also the case where your life as a hunter first started. It was where you first learned the truth about what went bump in the night, as well as where you first met Dean Winchester. 

“Shit, shit, shit… SHIT!” you yelled into the void of the room. “We fixed it… I know we fixed it. How is it starting again?”

 An hour later, sitting in your home office and now fully ensconced in the case file. You read each clipping, studied every little scrap of paper and still couldn’t understand why the claims of hauntings and subsequent disappearances were happening again. The papers fell from your fingers, gliding down slowly to the desk. Your head fell into your hands, and you felt a rise of nausea in your gut. 

“How… how did this happen?” you whispered to yourself, then shook the thought from your head. You growled in frustration and was quickly pissed that this came back into your life. There was no concrete evidence that the haunting was related to Carly’s disappearance other than timing, but the haunting that had been going on at the Inn was enough to open your eyes to all the nasty things that lived in the shadows.

You picked your cell off the desk and just stared at it, contemplating whether you wanted to make the call that you should make. It would uproot everything in your life now, but this… this was too important. This case, this is the one that turned your life upside down in the first place. Why should it have any different effects, now?

It had to be different. YOU were different. A different life, a different job, different lover… A quick burst of anger made you slam the case file close, then finally do what you knew was the right thing to do.

With a heavy sigh, you dialed the number you still knew by heart. It rang for a while;  when the voicemail picked up and you heard his voice again, you weren’t sure if you’d be able to leave a message.

“This is Dean’s other, other cell, so you must know what to do.”

BEEEP

“You got a lot of nerve sending me this, Winchester. Lot of fucking nerve. Stop trying to rope me back in. I’m out. Period.”

You ended the call and could feel yourself shaking. Gathering all the papers, you stuffed them haphazardly into the manila envelope, then into the original mailing envelope. Going right for the shredder, you turned it on and hovered the envelope over the spinning blades. 

That’s when you were hit with the memory. Not just one, but a collection of them. 

The first time you saw a spirit… the first time you met Dean… the long days on the road with him and Sam… the longer nights spent in Dean’s bed. Hundreds of cases, thousands of miles… all for you to just walk away outside of some shithole diner swearing you would never look back.

Absently, you switched off the shredder and leaned against the corner of the desk. You pinched the bridge of your nose between your fingers, and despite knowing what it would cost you, you knew you couldn’t simply pretend like you hadn’t seen the file. 

It was so late by the time Raylin came home, she missed dinner, and never called; a tell-tale sign of a temper tantrum. You sat at the table waiting for her, watching the pasta grow cold and absently shoving it around your plate with a fork. Eventually, you cleaned up, left her a covered plate in the fridge and went to bed. 

It was around one in the morning when you heard her slip into your shared bedroom and into bed. She wrapped an arm around your waist and nuzzled her face into your neck.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I hope you can forgive me for being so harsh this morning.”

Still wide awake, you rolled over and propped yourself up on one elbow. 

“Don’t apologize,” you said with a wan smile. “I’m just going to piss you off all over again.”

Her brow furrowed. “What--how? Why?”

“Because Ray…” you trailed off and let your eyes wander to the suitcase packed and waiting by the door. “I’m leaving for Salem in the morning.”

“What?!” Even in the barely illuminated room, you could see her scowl. She ripped the sheets off her legs and flipped on the bedside lamp before getting up and pacing the room. “You’re going?!”

“Yes. I have to. It’s my responsibility--”

“Bullshit! I’m your responsibility! Me! US!”

Slowly, you shook your head. “No. This case… you don’t understand. This one--”

She put her hands up to stop you. “Don’t. I don’t care! You promised me when you moved in, that part of your life was over. That HE wasn’t in your life anymore.”

“He isn’t. I’m going alone, this has nothing to do with Dean.”

“Bullshit. You want to see him, don’t you?!” Raylin was seething with anger, continuing to pace back and forth, her small hands clenching in and out of fists.

“No,” you replied calmly, knowing that engaging her with anything but wouldn't do anything except continue to perpetuate a fight.

“I don’t believe you. The evidence I’ve been collecting says otherwise.”

“Don’t lawyer me, Raylin.” 

“Don’t bullshit me, Y/N. You know what, fine. If you’re gone in the morning, don’t bother coming back. I’m sleeping in the guest room. ”

Raylin turned to leave, slammed the bedroom door and stamped down the hallway to the guest room; slamming that one as well. You fell back onto the bed, knowing there would be no sleep for you that night. Instead of attempting the fruitless effort, you reluctantly got up from the bed and got dressed, and quietly left the apartment with your suitcase in tow.

 Making the overnight drive to Salem didn’t take as long as you thought it would. You wouldn’t be able to check into the hotel until later, so you decided to stop at the only diner on the way into town for some much-needed caffeine and maybe a short stack of pancakes. 

Once you were sat at the table and placed your order, you pulled out the case file, along with the original one from years before and placed them side by side. Somewhere in the mess of notes and clippings, there was a link and you just needed to find it. 

The waitress delivered your coffee promptly, but as you were waiting for your pancakes, you felt a shadow looming over your shoulder. Assuming it was the server, you pushed your cup to the edge and asked for a refill without looking up. 

“Could you top that off for me, doll?” you asked, while intently reading a newspaper clipping from fifteen years before. 

“I could, but it’ll cost ya.”

It was not your server, but that voice… you’d know Dean’s voice anywhere. Slowly, you turned your head up to see him standing there. He hadn’t aged a bit in five years, but still wore the same flannel and canvas jacket he always had. When you met his eyes, he flashed a charming smirk and motioned towards the booth seat across from you.

“This seat taken?” he asked and then slipped into it before you could answer. 

“What the fuck are you doing here Dean? How did you know--”

“That you would be here?”

You nodded. 

“Because I know you. No way you’d pass this up, even after leaving me that voicemail.”

The waitress delivered your food and asked if you wanted more coffee. When she saw Dean had joined you, she asked if he wanted anything. 

“I’ll have a short stack, too. Also a cup of coffee and a side of bacon, please,” he said with a smile. She noticeably blushed and scurried off to put in his order. 

“I mean, how did you know I’d be at this diner... smart ass.”

“Oh, well, that’s easy. It’s the only place open with decent coffee. I’ve been watching the place, waiting for you.”

“You were that sure I’d come?” you asked with a snort of annoyance. “You think you’re so smart.”

“You’re here, aren’t you?”

“Don’t be smug, it doesn’t look good on you.”

“Oh, sweetheart, everything looks good on me,” Dean leaned in and said with a wink. You knew he was baiting you, he always did. But you refused to let him get under your skin. 

“Jesus…” you groaned and rolled your eyes. “Those kinds of lines actually working for you?”

“I haven’t heard any complaints.”

Deciding to ignore his cocky demeanor, you dove into the short stack and drank the rest of your coffee just as the waitress returned with Dean’s cup and to freshen yours. The moment she was gone, Dean pulled the old case file from under your arm and began to look through it. 

“I can’t believe you still have this,” he chuckled and sat back in the booth. “It's been, what… ten--”

“Fifteen,” you interrupted and tended to fixing your coffee.

“Fifteen years, and you still have this. Tell me again how you’ve put hunting behind you.”

“I’ve put hunting behind me,” you replied nonchalantly, taking a big bite of your pancakes and chewing methodically. 

“Yeah, okay,” he paused and took a drink of the piping hot coffee. He winced at the temperature and set it back down before grabbing your gaze and holding it. “In all honesty, I only sent you the file because I thought you’d want to know.”

You wiped your mouth with the napkin beside you, then leaned forward on the table, a smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth. Dean followed your lead, leaning forward with an excited gleam in his eyes. 

“You're full of shit, Winchester. Now, you wanna feed me the truth?”

“God, you are still just as frustrating as you were back then. I can see civilian life has had zero chill effect on you, huh?”

“Bite me, okay? I am here only because of that case…” you trailed off, a sick feeling turning your stomach which now made the pancakes a complete waste. 

“I know,” he said, his tone low and more serious than you were used to. “When Sam got wind of it again, I knew I had to tell you.”

This time when you met his eyes, the excitement was gone, as was the cocky asshole you were used to. Now, they were darker, more burdened, and seeing Dean like that threw you off. 

“Is Sam in town, too?”

“No, he’s off with our friend Jody doing his own thing right now.”

“Oh.. So, it's just me and you, huh? That seems like a great partnership,” you sighed and sat back, pushing the plate of pancakes towards the middle of the table just as the waitress came to deliver Dean’s order.

“Not hungry, sug?” she asked, concerned. “They alright for ya?”

“Oh yeah, they’re great. I just lost my appetite. Can I take them to go, please?”

Twenty minutes later, you and Dean were outside of the diner as the sun finally made it ascent into the sky. The sight of Dean’s old Impala made your heart swell, and the memories that came along with it, made you feel very nostalgic for those old days. 

“She looks good,” you said, motioning towards the car.

“Well, treat a girl right and she sticks around for a long time,” he laughed, then realized what he said could be applied to your relationship with his as well. “I just mean--”

“It's fine, I know what you mean. It’s true though. Treat a girl right, and she could be yours forever,” you sighed and your mind flashed to Raylin. She would be waking up about now if she had even slept at all and you couldn’t help but wonder if she was really going to change the locks on you over this.

Dean got quiet, and nervously kicked a bit of the gravel of the parking lot with his boot before looking back up at you. “Is that what happened… the reason you left? I didn’t treat you right?”

“Dean, please. Not now. I just want to get this case figured out so I can make an attempt to get my life back.”

You could tell he wanted to ask questions, but despite what you wanted to believe, Dean knew you well enough to know it wasn’t the time.

“Alright, let’s head over there,” he said. “How do you wanna play this?”

“Well, since my fake FBI badges were shredded, I’m guessing that’s not the best way. I was just going to check in as a guest and start there. Keyword in that reply, Dean.. is I. Not we. Me. I’m going alone. You can go back to wherever you were.”

“Whoa, whoa. You are not going alone. You’ve been out of the game for a long time. No way I’m letting you hunt alone.”

“Letting me?” you asked with a laugh. “Dean, you have zero say over what I do. You sent me the case file. I’m going to take care of it. You can go.”

“No can do, sweetheart, I--”

“Call me sweetheart again, I dare you.” You shot daggers at him, and despite the lingering feelings for the eldest Winchester, you refused to let him steamroll you. 

“Fine. Y/N… you’re not going at this alone, period. So, you can either throw your crap in the car and let’s go, or I can ghost your ass for the duration of the hunt and just piss you off more. I’m thinking, the first option is the best option. Besides, one more case, for old time’s sake?”

You knew he was right. You were rusty as Hell, and with no idea where to start, a partner would be ideal. But why did it have to be the one man that, no matter what, would always have a hold over you…

You rolled your eyes and sighed. “God I hate you…” you mumbled. “Alright, fine. But I can’t just leave my car here. So, let me find a place to stash her and we’ll do it your way.”

“That’s my girl,” he chuckled with a satisfied smirk and a raise of his brow.

“If we’re going to do this, let’s get two things straight… One. I am not ‘your girl’ and haven’t been for a long time. Two, I have been engaged for more than six months now. Three, don’t think for one second I am sharing a room with you. I’m getting my own room and going in as a travel blogger. I mean, the more truth the better, right? You, do what you want.”

“Engaged?” he scoffed, his eyes darting down to your left ring finger. “Yeah? Where’s the ring?”

“I left it at home,” you lied. The truth was, there was no ring yet. Raylin had asked you to marry her on a whim while out shopping one day. No grand proposal. No big declarations of love. And still, no ring.

“Oookay,” he chuckled. Dean nodded and pushed out his lips in a knowing, smirky pout. “Sure thing, Y/N, whatever you say. Come on, let’s ditch the city wheels over there and get to work.”

The old hotel looked exactly the same as it had fifteen years earlier. Despite a fresh coat of paint, and new staff uniforms, you felt like you were a kid again working there and had flashbacks to pushing your housekeeping cart down the ancient hallways. 

The moment you stepped foot inside, all those memories came rushing back, knocking you over like a tidal wave and rendering you nearly speechless. You froze in the lobby, and when Dean caught up to you, he paused and waited for you to come out of the fog of nostalgia. 

“You alright?” he asked quietly, adjust the bag he had slung over his shoulder. 

You nodded and suddenly felt grateful he was with you, though you’d rather die first then tell him that. “Yeah, let’s get this over with.”

Approaching the front desk, you were once again hit by flashes from years before. Dean could sense your hesitancy and engaged the desk clerk before you could. And he did so with an impish, rueful smile. 

“Hi there,” he said getting the clerk’s attention and taking a moment to read her name off her tag. “Brenda, hi, nice to meet you… I was hoping you can help us out. Any chance you a room available? We don’t have a reservation, and I know it’s last minute, but the little missus and I are just anxious to get our honeymoon started and this place looks just divine to make memories in.”

What he said snapped you out of your fog and you turned slowly to glare at him incredulously. He was wearing a larger than life smile, and beaming down at you then back at Brenda. Before you could say anything, he put an arm around your shoulder and pulled you in close and giving you a tight squeeze before kissing your temple. 

“Aw, well aren’t you two the cutest! You know, I just happen to have the honeymoon suite available! How does the ‘Rebecca Nurse Suite’ sound? You basically get the whole third floor all to yourself, along with a fireplace and a full private bath!” she revealed, overly excited and smiling from ear to ear.

“That sounds amazing, Brenda, thank you so much. How’s that sound, honey?” he asked as he turned to you, both his eyes and his expression silently begging you just to play along.

Knowing, and hating, the fact that you knew it was just best to go with his game until you were alone again, you forced your best smile and nodded. “Sounds perfect.”

“Great! Why don’tcha just go ahead and fill this out, we still do forms the old fashioned way here at the Morning Glory Inn. Then I just need a credit card to put on file and I can get ya your key!”

Dean went to reach for his wallet, but you put a hand over his. “I got this,” you said softly and reached into your purse to retrieve your wallet. You pulled out the credit card you shared with Raylin and placed it down on the counter.

“Fantastic, thank you so much!” Brenda was far too chipper and you couldn’t wait to get the hell out of the lobby and up to the room.

You snatched the form and pen from Dean and filled in all the necessary information making sure it all matched the information from the credit card. Once you were done, you pushed it back towards Brenda, but not before Dean got a look at the name on there. You could feel his eyes on you but did your best to ignore him until Brenda was passing your key over the counter.

“Okey dokey! You love birds are all set! Take the stairs, sorry, no elevator here, up to the third floor and make a right. Your room is number 12 at the end of the hall. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to give me a buzz!”

“Thank you, Brenda, I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

You grabbed the key and headed off towards the stairs with Dean following closely behind.

  “Whoa,” Dean mused upon walking into the room. “I don’t remember it being this nice last time.”

“It wasn’t. They must have renovated over the years. Maybe it’s what kicked up another haunting,” you said, tossing the key on the dresser and casually walking around the room. “Dibs on the bed, by the way.”

“Uh, no. Sorry. That, we share. If you think I’m sleeping in one of these chairs, you’re sadly mistaken.”

“If you think I’m sharing a bed with you…” you shrugged nonchalantly and trailed off.

Dean’s smug smile made you want to smack him and yet, still was able to stir those old feelings back up. Refusing to ever give him the satisfaction of knowing he could, you ignored him and plopped your bag on the bed. 

“Dibs is dibs, Winchester. Deal with it. The floor in front of the fireplace looks comfy. I’ll throw you a pillow, you know, for old time’s sake.”

He read your expression and knew immediately that you were purposefully being spiteful; it was one of your tendencies when you felt unnerved and you hated that he knew you so deeply. Dean moved slowly across the room, nodding to himself, ever so slightly, as if agreeing to a silent conversation that was taking place in his mind. 

“Y/N,” he said, now so close to invading your personal space, “dibs is bullshit and you know it. So, what… are you afraid to share the bed with me? Hm? Don’t think your fiance will approve?”

“No, I don’t think she will,” you replied simply, dying to turn and see his expression, but did your best to resist.

Dean stammered and stuttered, finally coming around to find the words he needed. “She? You’re… a woman?” 

“Yes Dean, I am a woman. I thought you of all people should remember that.”

“No.. you know what, forget it. I was just surprised, that’s all.”

“Why? I never made it a secret that dated women, too.”

“I know. I just… I mean you being engaged, alone, is trippy. I just can’t picture it.”

“Good. Don’t. It doesn’t concern you,” you snapped at him more harshly than you meant too. 

“Why are you so angry? If you didn’t want to come, you shouldn’t have come.”

“How could I not!? This all started because my sister disappeared, remember? Went to bring the laundry to the basement and never came back. Then, a week later you and the rest of the Scooby gang show up and tell me that the place is haunted. Yeah, okay, it is… and all that I went through helping you guys… there was STILL no sign of Carly or her body!”

Dean’s face softened at the mention of your sister’s name. “I know, Y/N, and I know how long that’s haunted you for. It’s why I sent you the file.” He paused and then took a few hesitant steps towards you, but left his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his jacket. “I don’t have any answers for you. Not yet, anyway. All joking aside, all our history aside, I thought you’d want a second chance at this one. That’s why I sent it to you. The only reason I came was to be sure you didn’t try and do it alone.”

You felt your body relax a little and was happy to see that he didn’t hold your snarky attitude against you. The pull to throw yourself into his arms, and have them wrap around you was stronger than anything else in that moment, even more than the urge to find something about Carly, but you didn’t. You resisted the feeling of being around Dean again and turned to sit on the edge of the bed. Closing your eyes and breathing slowly through your nose, you weren’t exactly shocked when you felt the mattress dip beside you with Dean’s weight. 

“We’ll figure it out, okay?” he rasped, then without thinking, unfurled an arm over the back of your shoulders and pushed you closer, your head coming to rest on his arm. 

Any lingering thoughts of Raylin were pushed away the moment the familiar scent of Dean’s soap touched your senses. It was faint, but it was there. Your lids fluttered closed and your mind’s eye wanted to transport you back in time, to some far away motel room… Seattle, maybe? Or was it Eugene? It was raining, that much you could remember, and the motel room smelled of whiskey and pizza...

The sudden sound of running water stopped the memory cold, making you lift your head from Dean’s shoulder and catch his gaze with a curious shrug. 

“What the hell?” you mumbled. 

You and Dean got up from the bed at the same time, but instinct took over and he stepped protectively in front of you. As you inched closer towards the door to the private bath, Dean took a moment, then slowly pushed it open, unsure of what would be found there. As the old wooden door slowly swung on its hinges with a creak, you and Dean both inhaled sharply when you saw the sink’s faucet gushing with hot water, so much so that steam had already engulfed the bathroom mirror. You felt your gut tighten as lines began to form across the glass. 

Goosebumps rippled up your arm as the first few lines formed into an “H”, then, an “E”. Just as the long line, of what you could only presume was going to be an “L”, started taking shape, the faucet stopped, as did the ghostly graffiti. 

Dean leaned back against the door, and when he turned to you, you just shrugged. 

“I guess we have another haunting on our hands, huh?” 

“Seems that way,” he sighed and cleared his throat before pushing off the door and heading straight for his duffle bag. 

Dean picked it up effortless and tossed it onto the bed. After rooting around it for a minute, he pulled out the small salt shakers he kept on hand, along with two, long and thick iron railroad ties. 

“Here,” he said handing them in your direction. “Downsized a bit so as not to attract attention, but seems like having some iron and salt on hand may be a good idea.”

“Seems that way,” you replied, repeating his words back and making him smirk.

“Welcome back to the life, sweetheart.”

Everything Tags: @sorenmarie87 // @yallgotkik

SPN Tags: @kazosa // @wings-of-a-raven // @closetspngirl // @idreamofplaid // @screechingartisancashbailiff // @linki-locks11 // @winchesterxfamilybusiness // @spnhollis // @sandlee44 // @stoneyggirl // @clarinette07 // @negans-wife // @deans-baby-momma // @hobby27 // @breereadsthings // @katehuntington // @81mysteriouslyme // @mrswhozeewhatsis // @deathofmissjackson // @lauravic // @aomi-nabi // @akshi8278 // @whereismyangel-damnitdeanshare // @coffeebooksandfandom // @rebelminxy // @22sarah08 // @adoptdontshoppets // @blackcherrywhiskey // @babypieandwhiskey // @maddiepants // @lefthologramdeer // @his-paradox

[unrelaxing]

Guardian Trope rec list!

Originally posted on Dreamwidth, I thought it would be a great idea to start crossposting (and posting in general) more often on tumblr.

Tropes make the fannish world go round. Where would we be without our Pornstar With a Heart of Gold? How did people get together if not for the fact that There Was Only One Bed? The magic of tropes in fandom is in the unique way a writer can take what is usually Capitalist and Heterosexual and turn it into something Free, Creative and Queer. Tropes is also, somehow, a universal fandom language. Whether your fandom is Hockey RPF or K-pop, both are likely to feature coffeeshop AUs or ABO. To celebrate the magic of tropes, and the skill of our fandom's writers, I wanted to do a Guardian Trope rec list! 

If Life Was A Movie We'd Have A Better Soundtrack Than This by @galaxystew | The first time Shen Wei meets Zhao Yunlan is when he innocently steps out of his Monday morning office hours and is immediately slammed into by 180 pounds of cop pursuing a suspect on foot. TROPES: Forgotten First Meeting, Case Fic, Meet Cute

The Crimson Lotus by @bonibaru, no_detective | A chance meeting. An unexpected union. A kingdom in turmoil. Secrets run deep in the tumultuous land of Haixing - but none more deeply than those between crown prince Zhao Yunlan and his mysterious new husband from Dixing. TROPES: Secret Identity, but also EVERYTHING.

Dragon Wings by @starandrea | Shen Wei hasn't been home in three days, and Zhao Yunlan wants to know why. TROPES: Wings!!

The Guardian Porn Star AU by FayJay | Yunlan does porn. Shen Wei doesn't. (Or does he...) Confusion ensues. TROPES: Meet Cute, as well as the obvious.

With A Twist of The Kaleidoscope by @for-the-flail | Ye Zun tries a different tactic to defeat his brother, that may tear apart everything Shen Wei and Zhao Yunlan have worked to build between them. TROPES: Amnesiac Lover A More Perfect Union by kimboo_york | Every Lord Guardian of Haixing of their generation must, by law and in accordance with the ancient treaty, be married to His Royal Highness the Black Cloak Envoy of Dixing. This purely ceremonial rite between the two nations has never gone awry. Until now. TROPES: Bureaucratically Arranged Marriage Five Times Zhao Yunlan And The Black-Cloaked Envoy Fucked, and One Time They Didn't by chaosmanor | How exactly is Zhao Yunlan supposed to manage secret late night hookups with the Black Cloaked Envoy and beginning to date Shen Wei? Will he have to choose between carpet burn and dragonfly kisses? TROPES: Identity porn.

Not All Those Who Wander by @xparrot | The god Kunlun is as old as the mountain range that bears his name, if not older. Or so the villagers say. He was here before any people were, as eternal as the mountains — moreso, in truth. The mountains might change, but Kunlun remains Kunlun. TROPES: Exposition of Immortality. The Black Lotus Club by mistresskat | Shen Wei understood power. It was, he thought, why he was here. Why Zhao Yunlan had asked him. Because he understood power, not just as some abstract concept, but concretely, intimately, the heavy cloak of it a familiar weight he’d carried for centuries. Shen Wei knew how to wield it, like a weapon, like a caress, and he knew how easy it was for that use to turn to abuse. Tonight, Zhao Yunlan needed him to wield that power on his behalf. And that was the easiest thing of all. The easiest and the most dangerous. TROPES: Undercover. On My Knees I Thee Worship by shirasade | Zhao Yunlan's first visit to Dixing goes... somewhat differently than planned. TROPES: Aliens Made Them Do It. A Demon-Friendly Guide To Happiness by zairaa | Shen Wei is a demon exasperated by humans, until he accidentally acquires a human child and turns to Officer Zhao Yunlan for guidance. Zhao Yunlan meanwhile has no idea that he has the hots for a demon. TROPES: Human Mom, Non-Human Dad, Interspecies Romance, Kid Fic.

Catastrophe by china_shop | In which Da Qing and Zhao Yunlan swap bodies, and Zhao Yunlan naturally takes the opportunity to spy on Shen Wei. (Let’s call it recon.) TROPES: Body-swap.

Prince of Thorns by Sylvia | Steel was the only thing that had a discernible effect on the rose thicket. Dark energy splashed uselessly against it, absorbed without a trace. Cold that would slow molecules ghosted across the fresh green leaves as a harmless frost, melting away easily in the afternoon sun. Fire… Shen Wei had not dared to try fire. TROPES: Hedge of Thorns!!!, Fairy Tale. A Different Kind of Hunger by Green | "Why doesn't anyone just call it what it is?" Da Qing asks. "Vampires. We're talking about vampires." TROPES: Vampires.

And I Try, Oh My God Do I Try by @sarah-yyy | A quick search tells Shen Wei that Zhao Yunlan is not enrolled in any of Shen Wei's classes. Shen Wei pinches the bridge of his nose. TROPES: Misunderstandings!, Hot Professor (surely this is a trope). Scorched Earth, Deep Ocean by margrave | The official proclamation of ceasefire between Haixing and Dixing was an event worth celebrating. His Imperial Majesty Kun Lun was not expecting the additional Concubine, who also happened to be the Great General of the West and Royal Prince of Dixing. The man who could murder them all. TROPES: Royalty, ABO.

How To Lose A Black-Cloaked Envoy In 10 Days by @qikiqtarjuaq, @bai-yu-thirst|  Zhao Yunlan has no idea how to handle the Black-Cloaked Envoy’s declaration of love when he’s already got a perfect boyfriend in Shen Wei. TROPES: Identity porn. Eat Your Lover Alive by orro | Shen Wei is silent as he listens to Chu Shuzhi’s latest report, staring at the corkboard covered in photos of Zhao Yunlan, lost in thought. The SID is used to this though. Ever since Zhao Yunlan disappeared two weeks ago, Shen Wei has been desperately searching for any hint of him, and the team wasn’t surprised when he announced that he had quit his teaching position. They all know Shen Wei is out there, searching for any clue, no matter how slight. TROPES: Yandere character. The People of The Roses by mabyn | Zhao Yunlan takes himself off the investigation into Shen Wei because he just can't be objective anymore. It doesn't last.  TROPES: Case fic, Identity porn. [WIP] All-Consuming by ratbones | Zhao Yunlan is the chief of an organization that definitely is not the secret police. Shen Wei is an ordinary biology professor. They've never met. The strange events taking place in Dragon City are being addressed by the proper authorities and pose no danger to the citizens. Anyone displaying symptoms including headache, high fever, and disorientation should seek prompt medical attention for the best prognosis. TROPES: Zombies. [WIP] Da Capo by glymr | Shen Wei pulled his hand back - the rest of the shirt had a somewhat suggestive cartoon image of a violin and a cello - and dropped his eyes. “My name’s Zhao Yunlan,” said the boy easily, “What’s yours?” TROPES: Band AU.

[moonbeambucky]

Tara’s 5k Writing Challenge

Oh my gosh I hit 5k! I’m so grateful for everyone who has followed me over the years. I truly appreciate each and every one of you. I wanted to celebrate by hosting my very first writing challenge! ✨

RULES

Must be following me

Reblog to signal boost (please don’t let this flop!)

Send me an ask with the chosen prompt (one per person) and the character you’ll be writing for!

You can write for any Marvel character or pairing, or any Sebastian Stan character. No RPFs please.

No underage smut! Don’t age up characters to make it work.

Minimum 500 words, no max and you must use the Keep Reading insert.

Remember to bold your chosen prompt in the fic

Tag your fic with #taras5kwritingchallenge and tag me in the author’s note too

The deadline is September 30

If you’re writing a series I ask that the first part be posted by the deadline.

If I don’t like/reblog your fic within 24 hours please message me a link. Tumblr tagging is unreliable so please don’t hesitate to reach out

If you need an extension or have to drop out for any reason just let me know! :)

Prompts under the cut but first a big thanks to Sam @buckyofthemyscira for helping me with the prompts. Happy Writing!

Dialogue Prompts

“Agh I’ve been hit!” “Calm down Meryl Streep, it’s just a paintball.” @shreddedparchment with Tony Stark

“You’re the love of my life, you know that right?” (Crazy Ex-Girlfriend) @bucky-smiles with Bucky Barnes

“I hate the truth. I want to lie for just a little longer.” @beckzorz with Bucky Barnes

“Think before you walk out of the door.” @hufflebucky with Bucky Barnes

“I don’t even have time to tell you how wrong you are.” (Parks and Rec)  @ramblerumble with Tony Stark

“Your safety means everything to me.” @ruckystarnes with Steve Rogers

“It’s just sex.” “It’s never just sex.” @all1e23 with Bucky Barnes

“Take it easy Romeo.” @isthiswhattheycallwriting with Bucky Barnes

“I never thought you’d break my heart.” @ourdreamsrealized with Steve Rogers

“You found me.” “I never lost you, not in here.” @suz-123 with Bucky Barnes

“Can someone explain why my suit is covered in barbecue sauce?” @kentuckybarnes with Bucky Barnes

“Don’t cry, not over me. I’m not worth your tears.” @revengingbarnes with Bucky Barnes

“We’re stuck here until Monday, might as well make the best of it.” @buchonians

“I’m so tired of your mouth!” @buckthegrump

“I like your laugh.” “I like you making me laugh.” (50 First Dates) @holy-captain with Bucky Barnes

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” @221bshrlocked with Chris Beck

“You can look all you want but I bet you’re dying to touch me.” @lailannajacobs with Bucky Barnes

“Do you think it’s easy for me to see you with somebody else?” (Friends) @tropicalcap with Bucky Barnes/Stucky

“S-stop the tickling! I surrender!” @stevieang with Bucky Barnes

“What’s the point? He’ll/She’ll never see me as anything more.” @docharleythegeekqueen 

“I love you. I always have and I always will.” @marvel-buck 

“After everything I’ve done for you!” “That I didn’t ask for!” (Crazy Ex-Girlfriend) @scarlettswxtch with Bucky Barnes

“You were made for me.” @petals-sunwards with Bucky Barnes

“Oh, you’ve been flirting?” “Have been for the last year.” @interestedbystanderwrites

“Go tell him he’s cute. What’s the worst that could happen?” “He could hear me.” (Friends) @jupiterbucky with Bucky Barnes

AUs, Tropes & Misc

    26. Coffee Shop AU @its--fandom--darling with Stucky     27. Royal AU @mostfandomfanatic     28. Reality Show AU @dracris33 with Bucky Barnes     29. Neighbor AU @lokissoul with Bucky Barnes     30. Fairy tale AU @as-write-as-rain with Bucky Barnes     31. Baker/Chef AU @sgtjbuccky with Bucky Barnes     32. Florist AU @the-canary with Bucky Barnes     33. Veterinarian AU @buckyofthemyscira with Bucky Barnes     34. Bookshop AU @caitfairwrites with Bucky Barnes     35. Blind Date AU @moonstruckhargrove with Bucky Barnes     36. Fake Relationship @breakmebucky     37. Friends to Lovers @barnestruck with Bucky Barnes     38. Enemies to Lovers @prettyyoungtragedy with Steve Rogers     39. Sharing an umbrella @softhairbarnes with Stephen Strange     40. Single Parent @teamcap4bucky

NEW PROMPTS

41. Doctor AU @jaamesbbarnes with Bucky Barnes 42. Biker AU @ginatoldmeso 43. Soulmate AU @ciarawriitesmarvel with Steve Rogers 44. “You’re seriously going to leave me tied up like this?” @ultra-asgaridanwarrior  with Loki 45. “Ruin me.” @eyesfixedonthesun22 with Steve Rogeres 46. “What did I steal?” “My heart.” @littledarlinwrites with Matt Murdock 47. “We’re lost, aren’t we?” @aunty-peggy with Peter Parker 48. “I can’t do this anymore!” @mybearyarmy with Bucky Barnes 49. “Shut up and get over here, you’re freezing!” @chuuulip 50. “You said you would come back for me.” @authoressskr with Bucky Barnes

tagging a few people who might be interested or would be kind enough to signal boost: @jaamesbbarnes @kentuckybarnes @interestedbystanderwrites @all1e23 @sgtjbuccky @youngmoneymilla @prettyyoungtragedy @beckzorz @suz-123 @notimetoblog @bucky-smiles @lokissoul @captain-ariel-barnes @bitsandbobsandstuff @teamcap4bucky