#i don’t really want more comments? but maybe i want to know which thing squicks people the most about my writing

[passthroughtime]

i’m starting to suspect that i just fucking suck 🤔 unsure yet though, but there are lots of signs already pointing to this... gotta mean something 🧐

[purring-tiefling]

abt the remix debacle: despite this not helping the argument i think neither of you are right because there’s nothing to really be right about imo. you deserve to be able to say what you thought of the video and she deserves to be able to watch the video and enjoy/not enjoy it without comment! maybe you like discussing the things you watch together, and maybe she just likes the simple act of watching it with you! this is just how you two approach things, for her it might not be so much about listening to the remix and more so about listening to it *with you*, so it might not really matter all that much to her about what’s the opinion on it. lots of vague terms like ‘maybe’ and ‘might’ cuz i don’t know you nor your gf so i could be way off base but this is just what im thinking

so basically it's, if we were to shorten it, "a difference in approach"?

first of all - thank you, your ask gave me this new perspective of "we might just like to interact [with content/with each other] differently", BUT.

if she just liked to watch something with me, right, without comments, in all fairness, i think she wouldn't give her opinions on everything we watched, and listen to mine (when she has no problems with my opinion). and when i say opinions, i mean, for example - some random things we both say after/in the process of watching videos: "wow thats stupid", "oh they messed up with the editing here", "she's so pretty", "that was a great amv", "that was cringe". we say stuff to each other all throughout.

so i imagine, if she didn't really need my opinions, it would be normal for me/us both to be quiet for the whole video, but:

if she can't hear me for some time (i'm not saying anything at all or maybe one of us has bad internet), she asks: "are you there?", which suggests to me that she expects me to make comments from time to time, which. are. opinions.

the same thing happens after we finish watching the video

she herself gives me her opinions or says comments. i dont think she'd be able to be that way, but then forbid me from being that way too

so i PERSONALLY don't think there's a difference like "i need to be able to say whats on her mind and she needs me to be quiet". i think her reaction was like That because i said something negative (again i don't percieve it that way...) to a thing she liked.

AGAIN I KNOW ITS BASICALLY A NON-ISSUE but im getting huge brainrot because im trying to understand it and the human behaviour (also i have a squick when i feel/see that the person im talking to doesn't want to hear my story/opinion and/or doesn't respect it. so i guess that got touched too)

thank u for the ask!!

[letteredlettered]

How to write smut?

The first rule of writing smut is don’t write smut.

Not unless you want to.

When I ask most fic writers why they're writing smut, the answer is almost always, "So people will read my fic." This is the wrong reason to write smut. The idea that people won't read your fic if there's not smut in it is a lie. IT'S A LIE.

People will read your fic even if it doesn't have smut in it if it has something that interests them. If your fic interests you, trust that it will interest someone else for the reasons you find it interesting--don't stick in a shiny object that doesn't even belong there just for the benefit of others. Some of my most popular fics don't have smut in them. One of them doesn't even have kissing. Do I get shitty comments about that? Yes. Do I get shitty comments on fics that do have smut? Yes. You get shitty comments no matter what.

But okay, it's true that more people might see your fic if it has smut in it. That is because there are people who go looking for smut and only want fic with smut. Why do you want them to read your fic? In a societal sense, I understand this as a motivation. People like to be paid attention. In a personal sense, I don't understand it at all. You want your thing, that you made, to be read. So why add a thing that you don't like, that you don't care about, so that people will pay attention? When you do that, are you getting praise for some aspect of yourself and who you are, or are you getting praise for doing what everyone else wanted? What is that praise worth, if they're not praising you?

Look, I understand how hard it is to have no kudos, no comments. I understand what it's like to not know anyone in fandom and feel like everything you do is ignored. But what you need to do in those situations is to work on getting a beta, people who can advise you; you need to work on advertising and getting to know people and putting your fic in places where it can be seen. And if then people still don't like your fic, you also need to realize that maybe not everyone will love your story--but I guarantee you if you really work at it to make something you deeply love and care about it, other people will care too, and it will be that much more fulfilling because they care about what you care about.

If the plot, themes, arcs, or development in your story require smut, usually you can easily skip smut if you don’t want to write it. I hate writing descriptions. Most people say that good writing requires descriptions. You know what, fuck them. I’m going to get away with describing as little as possible, and when I do describe things it’s going to be the way I want to do it.

The next rule of writing smut is don’t write good smut.

Write the smut that gets you hot.

Do people come to this tumblr and ask me about writing smut because they think I'm good at it? I'm very flattered if that's the case. Keep in mind that at least fully half, probably more, think I'm terrible at it.

That's because people have different tastes, and when it comes to food and sex, that taste is even more wildly baseless than all the other preferences humans have. I hate berries, fish, and potatoes. Why? I have no idea. Similarly, some girls only like to have sex with girls. What the fuck? Some people only get off when there are feet involved. Some people will literally get off fucking anything that's warm and wet. Is that a problem? Is that wrong? Is that weird? We've accepted that everyone has unique sexual preferences, and yet tumblr dot com still thinks there's a right way to write sex? (I don't mean you, anon. Your question is great, and is allowing me to rant about something that apparently really drives me absolutely bananas.)

Most of the smut I read on AO3 is trying so hard to be good smut that it's boring. Either it's trying to be poetic, or it's trying to elegantly write around all the nastiness that makes sex hot; it's describing what bodies are doing and people are feeling while using the words you would use to describe a sunset. Literally no one got wet writing that; they were too consumed by making sure it sounded good and hit all the notes just perfectly to ascend into a perfectly sanitized orgasm. Do you know where I go for good smut? Bad!fic.

The trick is to stop writing smut that pleases other people. Write smut that pleases yourself. At least someone will be getting off, and honestly, if you are pleasing my particular id, I just want people to be hot and happy. If you wrote something that got you hot and happy, even if it squicks me, I'll probably still have more respect for it than something you wrote so you could get your smut Pulitzer, or whatever.

Oh my God there is just years of frustration coming out in this post over never finding any good smut to read. Like, maybe this very tame, very sanitized stuff is what other people actually find hot, which--good for you. There's a lot of stuff out there for you.

But I want to read filthy things that use filthy words. I want it to be really nasty. I want you to reach into your brain and wrap your fist around your wriggling, writhing id; I want you to yank it out and nail it, still pulsating, into a Word document; I want it, still dripping, smeared all over the face of AO3.

Is that hard to do? Yes. Desire is a living thing; it doesn’t like to be pinned down; as soon as you try to grasp it it will slither out of your hands like a wet eel and turn into a quivering jellyfish and you’ll be saying to yourself, what the hell? I only like eels; I’ve never been into jellyfish, and you will not understand yourself. You will not know yourself. You will not recognize this organic morass of convulsing mess that is your libido.

Will it embarrass you? Also yes. Is it worth it? Yes. Yes, yes yes, you will feel so hot; your fic will be so hot, and everyone will go home so fucking satisfied, believe me.

[dreamsurvivormultiplayer]

ive heard a lot of folks are moving from MCYTtwt to tumblr, so hello! Welcome! I am a tumblr boomer so let me teach you some things

number one: If you’re on browser, get the xkit extension. right now. literally first thing you should do it improves your experience on this website tenfold. [Here’s the xkit tumblr.] Do yourself a favor it has so many wonderful features, including blacklisting specific terms, blocking ads/recommended posts, or making tag groups. It’s a lifesaver. (Also definitely block terms related to your triggers/squicks/common gross things or anything you might be sensitive to. And NSFW, probably.)

Number two: Mobile tumblr and browser tumblr are very different in functionality. They have separate learning curves in terms of UI. You’ll get the hang of it, don’t worry, but know that both are kinda glitchy. Mobile tends to lag more and have more difficulty loading images (to the point where it’s a meme). Also on mobile you can’t see custom pages on people’s blogs.

Three: Tumblr has a very different comments language than other sites. Most people don’t actually comment on posts, but instead leave commentary in tags. You can’t put commas in tags but you can separate words and fill ‘em up a ton. You can also read tags on posts, so you can see what people are quietly saying or how they’re reacting to posts. There’s also a comments option, which doesn’t add on to the post but can be read as well. Actually adding an additional comment to reblogs is pretty uncommon unless you have something to add to the post. It’s highly recommended to read tags of posts on your dashboard.

Four: Tumblr is weird. If you’re making an original post that you want to be seen, the first five tags will be what your post shows under. Use those tags wisely. Also if you include any non-tumblr links in your post, your post won’t show up in tags, so be careful. Reblogs and additions to reblogs don’t show up in tags at all. Tags on reblogs or aside from the first five tags are mostly for personal blog organization or commentary. Also, you can add a maximum of 10 images to a post using the image function, and then paste as many more images as you want in the text portion. Images in photo posts can also be scooted around or reorganized (i.e. rows of four, two-by-five, etc etc. however you please). Tumblr won’t crop images images unless you put two images of different sizes in the same row/column. It also rarely cuts quality, and you can click on images to expand them. Also the search function is always broken literally everywhere all the time. if you’re looking for tags, just add “/tagged/[words]” to the end of the blog url and you should find it. put a - or + where any spaces should be. Also try to avoid using apostrophes in tags if you’re using them for categorization cause sometimes it breaks it. Also, don’t tag triggers/etc in the format of “tw: [x]”/“trigger warning: [x]” or “cw: [x]”/”content warning: [x]” - instead, tag it like “[x] //” or the word alone or similar. The tw:/cw: can glitch out tag blocks sometimes and render it useless. Putting the // after or just the word alone works better. Content warnings don’t need to be in the first five tags - tag/post blockers look at the post’s tags or the post itself as a whole, so it’ll just hide the entire post based on what you block. And for the love of fuck, don’t cross-tag.  [See #10 & “Cross-tagging”] The folks who use the Minecraft tag aren’t super fond of the tag being filled with only DSMP/MCYT content so be considerate of tagging MCYT content with just “Minecraft” as well.

Five: Tumblr is old. It has a lot of jokes and popular posts. You can acquaint yourself with a lot of them here: https://heritageposts.tumblr.com/

Six: You don’t need a carrd or whatever it is. Really. Trust me. Nobody will read it. All you need in your bio is like, what you want people to refer to you as (i dont suggest making this your actual name, but i can’t stop you i guess), your pronouns, maybe your fandoms, and maybe if you’re an adult or minor. Don’t put your exact age for the love of fuck. don’t do it. and don’t make your username anything including your real name. be dilfza69 or whatever, trust me, no one will care. just dont use your real name. trust us on this one. and probably not your discord tag. it’s not that tumblr is inherently any more dangerous than the rest of the internet, just that it’s one of the few places left where you can remain very private. utilize that. it’s very nice. Lots of people make an about page on their blog though, so you can include any other fun stuff you want to include there, like your zodiac signs or fandoms or other social media or whatever.

Seven: Don’t worry about how old posts are. nobody gives a shit nor can anyone tell. Also, you will find most people’s main blogs consist of mostly reblogged content unless they are specifically a content creator (usually an artist, musician, or voice actor). This is normal. Reblog a lot. ‘Tis our way. Also, you can’t see how many followers other people have unless they post it/tell you. Follower count is meaningless here. It doesn’t impact your posts at all even. Don’t worry about it. Everybody’s the same level here.

Eight: Go to your blog profile (top right icon of a lil person. it’ll open a drop-down menu. From there, click on the name of your blog.) Select “edit appearance” and scroll down. There is a section titled “Advertising” that says “On-blog advertising” with a little switch. Turn that off. You’re welcome.

Nine: You can make side-blogs. These are like normal blogs except you can co-own them with other people, you can’t like posts from it, and you can’t follow people from it. They’re connected to your main blog. You can make a lot of them. I legitimately have like 30 blogs.

Ten: Lil bit of tumblr lingo for ya. Not even close to the full list, but a good start.

Nightblogging - when someone is blogging a lot when they clearly should be asleep. Tends to include lots of existential/”shower” thoughts.

Shitposting - General memery and silliness. Usually to an absurdist amount.

Liveblogging - Just like livetweeting. Live reaction posts to something happening, be it watching a show or stream or anything really.

Askblog - A blog focused around a character or multiple characters who respond to questions asked to them. Usually art/comic-based, but also sometimes text or even audio based. If you find one of these, shoot them an ask or two. It’s nice and they’re fun and a dying breed. 

Mishapocolypse / Dashcon - Some highly iconic tumblr historical moments. You will learn of them in time.

Tumblr User [x] - How we politely refer to each other. You may hear about some very popular bloggers, many from days of olde - legends such as Pizza (rip) or Sixpenceee (don’t look there) or maybe even smaller known bloggers like Glumshoe (that one’s safe, unless you don’t like bugs or traditionally “gross” animals).

Bone Stealing Witches - There have been like three separate instances of this. This isn’t even a joke. Like, literal actual real people who practice witchcraft who stole or did something involving human skeletal remains. This is not the weirdest thing that has happened on this site. You will get used to that.

Inbox - If someone sends you an ask, this is where that will end up. This too tends to be broken, usually in the form of tumblr “eating” asks (they never appear in the inbox). Most common cause for this is allegedly links or things that tumblr thinks are links (basically anything in a [x].[x] format. Make sure to put spaces after your periods or your ask may be eaten.)

Cross-tagging - Tagging posts with tags that don’t or barely apply (i.e. tagging art of Bee Duo with “Bench trio”/”Tommyinnit” when Tommy isn’t in the image or referenced at all || tagging as many members of the dsmp as you can when the post is only about one singular content creator).

Hope this helps some of y’all new folks. If you have any questions, my inbox is open.

[silvysartfulness]

For the ask game: 6 & 18 - 18 because I'm bad at commenting. I'm so overflowing with love after reading even rereading your fic, there are 1000 thoughts in my head but all that gets out into the comment text box is 'GOOD (heart emoji, heart emoji)'.

6: What are some topics you will never write about?

Hmmm... I don't think there are any topics I would never write about. There are many that don't particularly interest me, but that doesn't mean it's impossible some character or story will come along one day and present a good angle! I think any topic, no matter how complicated, can be fascinating and add depth and insight to your characters and your story.

If we're talking tropes, though, I doubt I'll ever write mpreg or rpf. Mpreg rather squicks me, and while I know a lot of people enjoy it, I personally think Real People Fiction is rather disrespectful and objectifying. Exploring topics in fiction is one thing, but crossing that line to involve real, living people is not something I would do. Maybe because I had things happen in my youth where my family ended up written about in newspapers, albeit without names mentioned, and since we and those who knew us refused to talk to the papers ourselves, 90% of what they wrote were made-up lies, exaggerated and made awful for sensation-value... We had to live with that for years after, even after moving towns, and those rumours still raise their heads at times, decades later. Making things up about real people... It isn't fun, it isn't a game, and you honestly don't know who you may end up hurting or make deeply uncomfortable because of it.

18: Do you feel like your work gets enough recognition? What kind of feedback do you like to receive?

I am so grateful for all feedback I get! It means the world to me, it's the fuel that keeps me inspired and motivated to work through my chronic fatigue to create more!

The very best comments are the ones that ask questions, genuinely wanting answers, comments that spark interaction and dialogue! That is so rewarding and inspiring! That's why I love Asks about my story so much, because it sometimes turns into long discussions, and it engages all that dopamine and serotonin in my brain!

Same with comments analyzing character reactions and feelings - a lot of my writing focuses on getting emotion across without stating it outright, and when people pick up on all those non-verbal tells, that's catnip!

Comments that tell of the reader's reactions to specific parts are also amazing! What quip made you laugh? What knife made you cry? What tension can't you stand, what bit surprised you?

Comments pointing out certain words or sentences are also really rewarding - I know I have achieved a certain 'voice' in my prose after all my years of reading and writing, and I'm honestly very proud of it? Something almost poetic at times, occasionally poring for the longest time over which exact word sounds best in a sentence... So people noticing and commenting on that makes me really happy! It's a rather invisible part of the craft, and many people don't really think a lot about the words themselves, only the story they tell - but words and their sounds and meanings have always fascinated me, and I try to handle them as I do colours or textures when I draw, integral to the art itself.

Comments contemplating where the characters and plot are coming from, and where they may be going! That's always super-interesting, too! Comments musing on how the characters interact and how their relationships are changing throughout the story - like I said above, I work a lot with 'show, don't tell' non-verbal cues, and it's always a balance to see if I'm being too blatant or too subtle... So comments talking about the character relationships are a litmus test to let me know whether I managed to get my intended moods across or not!

Long comments are like Christmas come early! Nothing makes me perk up more than opening an AO3 notification mail to see a comment long enough to vanish off the page! Doesn't matter how rambly or repetitive, just the fact that someone was invested enough to sit down and write all that makes me so happy I sometimes tear up a bit! But a one-sentence comment asking a really interesting question, or noticing a super-subtle Easter Egg or such can be every bit as memorable!

So to sum it up - complements are very nice and appreciated, but what really makes me happy, and helps kickstart my inspiration to go write more, is people engaging with the story I'm telling! The characters, their emotions, the reader's emotions, the thoughts and guesses of where things are headed, recollecting things from earlier chapters and how it affects the present, and possible future...

I've lived this story for over a year now, spending so much of every waking moment on it, and that kind of engagement and feedback is the payoff! It's what gives me a sense of meaning and joy when life is rough, and I am so, so grateful for the amazing people who have chosen to come along on this journey with me, offering encouragement along the way. You are everything. ♥

[bonesthebeloved]

Loud talking, mushy thoughts

Trigger/squick warning: UNSYMPATHETIC VIRGIL, PATTON AND LOGAN, shouting (caps), Crying, dismissal of feelings, selfdoubt, mild violence (Remus knocks roman out) threatening of violence, mention of minor injury (very brief) manipulative behaviour (if I forgot anything please do let me know)

Summary: Roman goes to live with Remus and Deceit after being mistreated by his 'family' for so long.

(not beta read)

-

"WHY THE HELL IS YOUR BROTHER UNCONSCIOUS ON OUR COUCH REMUS?!"

"He was crying! I didn't know what else to do!"

"Knock everyone BUT HIM out maybe?"

A long pause, followed by Remus slowly widening his eyes in realisation. "Ohhhhhh."

Deceit let go of a frustrated sigh. Pinching the bridge of his nose and looking the still very much knocked out Prince messily displayed on their livingroom couch.

"Satan give me strength."

-

Roman was... Not having a good day. To put it lightly.

To put it not lightly would be saying that he was having a horrendous day and that everything that was able to go wrong, seemed to be doing just that.

He'd not been able to sleep the night before and, when looking in the mirror, had promptly decided that he'd rather not face the person on the other side and covered it up with a duvet that had needed a washing for a good few days now but that he had simply not gotten the time or energy to wash yet.

He'd gotten dressed and taken his first step on the stairs. And then his second one. And then his third.

By the seventh step he miscalculated and lost his balance, skipping over steps eight to fourteen and landing with a series of thuds and a surprised shout of pain at the very bottom.

When getting up, he noticed that all three other sides were in the room with him and staring. Virgil shrugging right as they made eyecontact and turning around again. Logan, rather dramatically, rolling his eyes and turning the page of the book he was reading and Patton, after taking a step towards him and seeming to think it over in his mind, shaking his head and returning to cleaning up three breakfast plates off the table.

They'd started, and evidently finished, eating breakfast without him.

He'd taken an apple out of the fridge and decided that would do for breakfast and, after wanting to settle down on the couch but being given a stern look from Logan which was so vocal he could almost hear it say 'don't you have work to do?' he retreated back to his room. To his little desk with empty coffeemug and too much paper in the bin, to work on his ideas.

That is, he would have done so. If he'd come up with even a single good one.

He thought he had! Oh, he'd had three beautifully worked out and handcrafted ideas for future projects in his hand when he'd gone downstairs again.

He thought he had, until he'd handed them to Logan who had looked over his black frames and had very slowly raised a single eyebrow as he read on.

He'd returned to his room with the three perfectly sculpt ideas punched into a muddy lumpy mush. A mush that would, as soon as he slammed the door shut just loud enough for it to send vibrations through the wooden flooring he was standing on, land in the bin next to the other mushy ideas that he hadn't even dared to show Logan.

It hadn't been a good day, that day. With Patton finally bringing up the wedding and questioning him about why I'm the world he'd wanted to go to the callback. He spoke like it was a police interrogation rather than a friendly discussion and Roman felt himself slowly move back on how chair until it was balancing on two legs only.

It hadn't been a good day because Virgil, as soon as he'd gotten wind of the conversation, began to talk to him so loudly Roman asked him to stop shouting. But Virgil said he wasn't shouting so he continued to very loudly talk and ask him why he was siding with Deceit. Why he was trusting that monster and why he was acting so self-absorbed lately. Patton went on to ask why he was being so selfish. The soft question hitting harder than all of Virgil's loud talking could ever do, leaving his self-image broken and bruised crying inside of him to stop, stop please stop!

It hadn't been a good day to put it lightly because now he was sitting in the livingroom, all of the others there but miles away and all of them sitting frozen. Unmoving and unmotivated to do so in the near future as Remus sat down next to him.

"What's wrong brother mine? Did somebody die? Did you accidentally drown your pet squirrel again?"

There was no again. There wasn't even a squirrel because that was very much not the reason for his being close to tears but Remus didn't know that. And Remus was trying to help in his own special way and his brother could apprechiate that. Did appreciate it very much infact.

But when he was sitting in the same room as the reasons for his being glum, with his brother poking the sore spots on his ego over and over again, the apprechiation lessened to something more resembling a stiff nod of acknowledgement.

"Did somebody hurt your feelings? Did Poor Pattycakes make you feel selfish again? He's still upset about you siding with double Dee's isn't he? Oh! Or maybe Logan said your ideas were stupid like he did to me! Is that it Roro?"

Roman wanted to say something. The something he wanted to say at the moment was a loud and repeated yes. But instead he sat silently. Head bowed and eyes sneakily on the other sides. They all acted like nothing was wrong. The documentary on the TV currently explaining what exactly bombs were filled with and how they filled them.

"Oh maybe Veve was being a big meanie again too! Did he shout at you? Oh I remember how loud his shouting could get. Your ears must hurt because of it, don't they Ro?"

The TV was explaining how the fuse was inserted and made to stay in place as Roman bawled his fists.

"Oh but maybe it's not only today right? Dee told me that they don't listen to you. Is that true Roro? Do the mean 'light sides' not listen to you? That must hurt a lot. I bet you're really doubting your purpose as a side right now aren't you? I bet you-"

And as the TV showed how the fuse was lit and the bomb exploded, Roman burst into tears.

The reactions were as he thought they'd be. Concern, from a small part of the room. And disgust and dismissal from the other 3/5th of it.

Remus had taken his hands off his brothers shoulder and arm like he'd suddenly become glowing hot. Brows knitted in confusion and mouth slightly open from the shock that his brothers sudden outburst had installed in him.

The other three, instead, acted very much like his brother wasn't fully breaking down on the other end of the couch.

Logan simply took the remote and turned up the volume of the TV so he could hear the commentators announce their next topic being how stained glass is manufactured and turning towards the TV with a nonchalance of a man knowing he's doing the right thing by turning the other cheek.

Patton let out a sigh and, after rolling his eyes dramatically, almost theatrically, he simply said 'stop being dramatic Roman. You're fine.' before getting up to refill his teacup.

Virgil scoffed at the crying Prince as if his tears were personally insulting him and just stared him down in the hopes that this tactic would shut him up.

But Roman didn't, shaking now, nose running and tears making the most quiet pat pat pat sound as they landed on his trousers, creating light grey stains on the pure white pants.

More comments like Patton's first one were thrown his way. Some half-heartedly thrown like an Un-enthusiastic kid in highschool. Some curved balled his way so hard it would leave bruises.

And slowly Remus began to panic.

He panicked over why this was happening. Panicked over why his brother's friends didn't seem to care at all. Simply tried to stifle him. Shut him up so he wouldn't be a disturbance in their otherwise seemingly uneventful day.

Panicked, because his brother too, was now muttering the words 'it's fine. I'm fine it's fine I'm fine I'm fineimfineimfineimfine-' over and over again like a broken record or a pray circle chant and Remus panicked.

He panicked so much that he shouted 'I'm leaving!' right into his brothers ear, making him flinch, before quickly running towards the door.

He paused with his hand still on the doorknob.

Because he realised this wasn't good. He realised something important that he didn't quite know of yet. Didn't quite grasp onto yet but he realised it. And it wasn't good news.

So he panicked. Summoning his mace and knocking his brother square on the head. Roman sitting straight up for a split second due to the shock and then passing out fully. Falling forward, face first into the carpet and tear streaks down his face slowly coming to a stop.

The room was dead silent, most of them frozen in shock, one of them frozen due to being unconscious, as Remus grabbed his brothers legs and lifted him, with a bit of effort, over his shoulders.

The room stayed dead silent when he straightened himself, looking around with eyes slightly too wide and lips still unparted.

"I-... See ya!" He said quickly, before sinking out and into the hallway leading to his safe place. The place he was safe. The one he needed to bring his brother who hadn't seemed so safe in his own safe place.

-

Deceit was so close to loosing his sanity that he might as well throw those last few braincells in the bin aswell, he thought, as he looked at the body of Romano creativity 'Princey' Sanders, messily sprawled out over his livingroom couch.

"Remus, would you come here for a second buddy?"

Remus nodded, getting up from where he had been sitting cross-legged on the floor, looking at his brother laying there. Silently. Unmoving. Unconscious.

"Remus my dear. Would you please explain to mE WHAT HAPPENED?"

Remus tried to explain. Truly he did. But it's hard to explain when you still haven't quite gotten to realise what you realised. He knew it was important now. He knew it wasn't a positive thing too. It couldn't be, with Roman breaking down like that.

But Deceit hadn't slept well the previous night and, much like Roman, he hadn't had a good day. His was considerably less filled with humiliations and accusations. But he had spilled coffee over his favourite shirt and Remus had knocked over one of his cacti, smashing it's hand-painted pot so he was allowed to atleast mention it.

What followed was rather loud. Loud enough for Roman to stir in his un-wake and slowly start to wake up.

"WHY THE HELL IS YOUR BROTHER UNCONTIOUS ON OUR COUCH REMUS?!"

"He was crying! I didn't know what else to do!"

"Knock everyone BUT HIM out maybe?"

At Remus his noise of realisation Roman managed to crack an eye open. Finding he was laying on a rather soft couch in a rather dark room with rather loud company.

"Why was he crying then?" Deceit said, after letting go of another long sigh and trying to find a way to calm himself before he punched somebody, preferably Remus with how this conversation was going.

"I don't know! He looked like something was wrong and he wouldn't tell me what was wrong so I started guessing! The others acted like nothing was wrong though and that was weird."

Deceit sighed, took his hat of and flung it towards a corner of the room before combing his hands through his hair. Tugging at it once and facing Roman who was still laying on the couch.

"Roman I know you're awake. Why don't you tell me why you were crying and then I can decide if I need to kill either Remus or your precious family hm?"

Roman stayed silent as he slowly sat up straight. Fumbling with the cuffs on his sleeves, not meeting Deceit's eye.

Said side crouched down and said, in a much softer voice than Roman had ever heard him use (Remus did know it very well but as he didn't say we won't mention it) and softly called out for him.

"Hey, can you look at me please? We only want to help you Ro, I promise you that."

Roman nodded and, dropping the bravado he normally put on for a moment, he was truly being honest.

"Remus his guesses were... A bit too accurate. And I hadn't been having a great day and the others were just there acting like none of those things were true and I-" he cut himself off then, finding he'd choked up again. Deceit just reached out for him slowly. Hand hovering just moments away from touching his own and, after Roman nodded in response to the question if it was alright if he touched him, his hand was grabbed and thumbs ran over knuckles.

Remus sat down cross-legged again. Close but not too close. There but not too present.

He was slowly beginning to unwrap the thoughts he'd grasped then. And he didn't like his present one bit.

"Do you want to tell us what Remus said that was correct?" Deceit said and Roman was nodding as soon as the words had left his mouth. Desperate for comfort. Desperate to talk. For somebody to listen to him for once.

Desperate for the chance Deceit was giving him.

So Roman told them about his not too great day and about how he'd missed step seven on the stairs, showing then his bruised back and scrapped hands.

He told them about the apple and the mushy ideas in his bin and about how the documentary hadn't been his choice.

And then he kept talking.

He told them about how he'd been feeling for the last few months and how it hadn't been happy feelings. He told them about how mushy ideas had become more frequents and dismissal had been something he'd gotten used to.

He told them about not being heard and about lines being rewritten by others because his weren't good enough.

When the evening came they sat together on the floor infront of the couch. Eating parshly cold and parshly mushy noodles because they'd let them sit for too long as they talked and talked and didn't talk for a while before talking again.

And when Deceit offered that he could stay the night and every othernkugjt if he so pleased, Roman had said he'd sleep on the couch for the night.

And if he woke up in his own room the next morning, well, you wouldn't see him complaining.

And if said room had a door that led to a different livingroom than it had lead to for all of his life then he didn't mind.

He simply greeted his brother, trying to get used to being so close again. Trying to find a way to orbit around the same earth as he without clashing again.

And he simply thanked Deceit when he arrived at the table and saw three plates there and eggs and bread and orange juice and water and tea that had cooled down slightly.

They'd waited for him.

-

After they'd finished breakfast and cleaned up Remus very timidly asked if he liked where his room was now. And after Roman had told him that he liked it very much, he asked him a little less timidly if they could pay his family a visit.

The term family felt like a jacket that didn't quite fit when it was applied to the three sides but he'd nodded either way. And after they'd gotten all dressed up and Roman had stared at the mirror still covered with his old duvet wondering if he'd ever be able to face the man on the other side, they were off.

Roman walked towards their common room with a darkside on each side.

He'd never tell them why is ment this much to be able to walk in the middle and not on the side or behind them. But they seemed to know. And Deceit laid a hand on his shoulder for a brief second and gave him a tight-knit smile.

"Where have you been?!"

They stood in the middle of the common room, infront of the TV that was displaying a documentary on black holes on pause.

"Roman?" Remus said, looking at his brother closely. Watching a stop motion of microexpressions flicker over his face that got significantly less micro when Patton crossed his arms and, rather loudly, told him to 'just spit it out Roman!'

Deceit had understood though. And he stepped infront of the two brothers after Roman had given him a quiet confirmation that he was allowed to speak for him.

"We're taking Roman in. He's going to be living with us from now on."

"You're kidnapping him?!" Virgil said very loudly. But it wasn't shouting. Never shouting.

"No. We asked if he would like to and he agreed that it was the best choice. He's fully willing to and we've already moved his room."

"Why isn't he telling us himself then? The fact that he isn't making this more dramatic than it needs to be us suspicious. Don't you think so Logan? Of course you do."

Deceit's eyes flickered to Logan as Patton mentioned him. Seeing a flash of something like longing, of something like guilt, like begging him to tell Roman that he was sorry.

"You've broken him down enough for him to not want to. Now if you'll excuse us, -" he began, nodding once as the brothers began to leave. "- we only stopped by to announce the news to you so we'll be going." Roman was shaking with relief. "HOWEVER." And suddenly he was shaking with something very different.

"If I get even the slightest indication that EITHER or you do as much as GLANCE at him in a wrong way, I'll not be held responsible for how Remus might act to protect his brother."

Patton took a step back at that while Virgil simply snarled and gave Deceit the bird.

Logan sat silently. Very very quietly in the same place he'd been sitting for the entire time they had been there. Looking down at his knees.

"Tasteful Virge. Very very charming. And Logan-" The logical traits head snapped up to meet Deceit's eye. Gaze wandering towards Roman for a moment to determine that he was indeed watching him intendly.

"-if there's anything you wish to talk about or apoligise for, you're welcome to come by sometime. Make sure you shut the door though. We wouldn't want pests getting in."

The last part was growled towards the other two sides and Remus cackled in delight at the remark as he grabbed the handle and pushed the door open.

As soon as they were far enough away Deceit turned to Roman who had been clutching his brothers arm rather tightly for the entirety of the conversation.

"Are you alright Roman?"

Roman looked up then. Tears staining his cheeks but a smile Deceit found was very much a genuine one on his face as he looked at him.

"I'm not. But I think I will be."

-

AN: Ceno, if you're reading this, thank you for ranting with me about unsympathetic Virgil and Patton and giving me this story idea. You're great and the best unoffical sister I could have wished for.

-

Tags: @purp-man @crazycookie13o @deceitifullies101 @sapphire-knight @ragingdumpsterfiremess @chronophobica @lance-alt @mylifeisadeceit @itriedandimtired @unsympatheticpatton @unsympa-side-ic

(if you would like to be added or removed from the taglist simply send me an ask/message)

[bandomfandombeyond]

Thank you very much. Deciphering the morals of this has been really hard for me. I appreciate AO3 for what it is, but recently I've heard about real children being written about explicitly. I've had a hard time confirming fics like that exist b/c idk any famous children, but if it's true, isn't it bad? Obvi it would be hard to prevent abusing the system, but don't we have a moral responsibility to protect real kids by not enabling pedos to use our space to fantasize about harming real kids? 1/2

So this actually hits on one of my personal squicks, which is RPF! I avoid that shit like the devil because it DOES cross the line for me of what's okay to depict happening to a fictional person vs a real person.

However, let me ask you some questions. This isn't accusatory, just provocative.

Why is AO3 on the hook to remove those works that have RPF of children, but Dan Schneider was able to use his position as a producer for nickelodeon to create multiple shows that catered to his pedophilia? Why does AO3 have to censor works when CSI Miami can show explicitly "dead" bodies of children and spend entire story arcs talking about the methods and desires of pedophiles on public television (csi came out of cbs right? And that's a public channel.) Why does AO3 have to remove works when mainstream TV shows us soft porn of people who are supposed to be teens in high school? Why do the fans who use AO3 have to feel morally responsible for every minor user on the site when their parents should be monitoring their internet access?

I don't feel that I and my fellow fans ought to be on the hook for sheltering children from the world. I feel that parents are overburdened by the financial realities of the world and this creates situations where their children are babysat and raised by the internet. That's not my fault or your fault, and it's not our responsibility. Will those kids end up fucked up? Maybe. And that will be on their parents, because internet controls aren't exactly hard to set up. My parents kept me from reading porn or really any fanfic til I was 18 and on my own (which is a different form of abuse because isolation also fucks with kids and they need a gradual ramping of responsibilities and independence to grow into adults rather than just being kicked out as children with adult age.) using internet monitoring and actually spot checking what I was doing. Do I think they went overboard? Yes.

Did they also prevent me from being sexually exploited by a teacher my sophomore/junior years? Yes they did.

Essentially, this boils down to, perhaps, an overinflated sense of personal responsibility. 'See something, say something.' However, you cannot allow yourself to carry the weight of every bad action on the internet. You are not responsible for everyone else's parenting choices. You are not responsible for what other people post or consume on the internet.

You are responsible for how you treat yourself, how you treat others, and how you respond when you see IRL injustice.

I think part of the anti brigade Issue also comes from an overwhelming inability to... Feel like they're making a difference in the real world? Like the internet connects us but also isolates us, and if you (generalized) are the sort of person who wants to step in when bad things happen but your only contact with the outside world is the internet, that can create situations where you have no real ability to change the bad, so your actions end up creating a different kind of bad instead.

Addressing the "isn't allowing pedos fantasies making them more bold" I will admit I don't know enough about the psychology of pedophilia. I don't know if it starts as fantasy and escalates like with serial killers, or if consuming fantasy media actually helps them control their urges. I don't know, and I can't comment.

I will say this: something that enables predators can also be cathartic for victims. There are always going to be competing access needs -- and that's why opt-in/opt-out is really important.

I have personally been mocked for refusing to follow or speak to minors on Twitch, tiktok etc. Other people's opinions on my boundaries do not change that the boundary exists. My morals are not compromised by ignoring the existence of problematic content when I cannot change it, my morals would be compromised if I engaged with or created content that went against them.

I hope this makes sense and if I didn't completely address your points or you'd like to discuss more, feel free to keep sending asks!

[ironwoman359]

Is it bad to like Deceit/Roman and Logan/Deceit? I started a blog for it but I've gotten nothing but people telling my to go kms and that the ships are toxic and I'm a toxic person. I just think they are kinda cute together. I just entered the fandom through the most recent video so I know everything isn't perfect but is the ship really that bad? Also, what is rem/rom (?) I see a lot of people hating on it but I don't know what it is.

Okay...so I’m gonna answer your second question first because it’s easier to explain and is more cut and dried. 

Remrom is the ship name for Remus/Roman. A lot of people don’t like it because, since canon presents them as *brothers, they see the ship as incest, which triggers and/or squicks a lot of people. If this is the case for you, the best way to handle that is to just blog those tags and not interact with those blogs. Harrassing people online over a ship never did anything positive or productive. 

Which seques into your first question, is it bad to like Roceit (Roman/Deceit) or Loceit (Logan/Deciet)? Of course not. I see loads of people ship it all over the fandom, especially Roceit. Here’s the thing, if you’re new to the fandom you won’t have heard about this, but there used to be a hUGE debate in the fandom about Deceit and whether or not liking him/shipping him with other characters was “toxic” or not. I thought that had all died out by this point, since there are more episdoes with Deceit in them (especially with where his character was left at the end of Putting Others First) but apparently those comments are still around and just lurking in the shadows more. 

But here’s the thing. One, those fears about Deceit are, in my opinion, very unfounded, especially with the current state of the character, and two, it’s fanfiction. NONE of the ships will be canon, cuz that’s not the type of show this is, and in fanfiction, we get to not only explore the dynamics that characters do have in canon, but the dynamics that they could have if things were different. If this WAS the type of show where a ship was possible in canon, would I see Roceit as plausible (or even healthy) ship with where the characters are at in the show right now? Absolutely not, they’re way too at odds with each other, Deceit’s motives are still shady at best, and BOTH of them need to make reparations with each other before their relationship can improve. 

But none of that matters in fanfiction. Because they are cute together, and there’s a lot of potential between those characters. Now, someone else may disagree for whatever reason. They might not like the character dynamic, maybe they can’t see past the tense state of their canon relationship, maybe Roman or Deceit or both just aren’t their favorite character. That’s all totally fine too, people are going to engage with content in different ways. But that doesn’t give people the right to come into your inbox and hurl insults and death threats. In fact, NOTHING gives people the right to treat you that way, on the internet or in real life. Keep on shipping Roceit and Loceit and whatever else you want to ship, and block people who try to harrass you over it. Here’s a tutorial on how to block anons (since most of the time people sending that kind of crap aren’t brave enough to send it off anon). If you’re getting hate anons over a ship or character, you are not the one with the problem, the hate anons are.  

Also, if you’re following blogs that post a lot of stuff you don’t like, be it ships you don’t care for or negative posts about ships and/or characters you like, you can unfollow them, scott free! Carefully cultivate your own online experience, and suddenly fandom becomes a wonderful thing. Welcome to the fanders, I hope you have a lot of fun! Check out the roceit and loceit tags, there’s loads of good content there to enjoy! And if anyone else out there reading this thinks it’s okay to send hate over a ship, then you can kindly leave this blog, because this isn’t gonna be the place for you! 

*Arguments can be made surrounding this, such as A) since they’re all figments of Thomas’s mind, they aren’t really brothers so it’s not really incest, or B) since they’re all figments of Thomas’s mind, ALL the ships are incest and/or selfcest. There will be people who feel either way, and as far as I’m concerned those feelings are valid, but they’re both minority opinions as far as I can tell. Either way it doesn’t matter, everyone will have their own interpretation of the material and how they engage with it is ultimately their business.  

[philcoulsonismyhero]

Fic Writer Interview

I got tagged by the excellent @astriiformes Ages ago to do this fic writer interview thing, and I’m finally getting around it! So here goes...

Name:

Mairi (sounds like 'marry'), Kamemor over on AO3 (after a particularly cool Romulan politician in a Star Trek novel, if you were wondering)

Fandoms:

Currently, I'm writing a lot of RWBY fic and that's unlikely to change because I'm deep in Special Interest Hell with no signs of coming up for air. In the past, I've also written a bunch of stuff for Criminal Minds and The Flash/DCTV. I've got a lot of other fandoms, but those are the main ones I've written for.

Two-shot:

Assuming this is asking if I've ever written one, technically no. But I do have a series (Just Hold On, a RWBY fix-it) that currently consists of two fics which could stand alone as they are, although I have plans to continue that one for quite a few more fics if I can find the motivation and time. And I guess I also have a couple of fics that I could have split into two chapters because they switch from one POV to another about halfway through. I like to stick to third person limited POV, and that means I often have section breaks when I want to switch from one character's perspective to another's, and for a two-person scene that usually means two sections. But I like the oneshot structure, and usually I don't feel like what I'm writing is long enough to split into chapters.

Most popular multi-chapter:

I only have one true multi-chapter fic, and it's Moving Forward, a Flash fic based on the idea of Reverse Flash being taken prisoner at the end of s1 rather than being wiped from existence. It's technically still unfinished, but I got a lot of lovely comments on that one a few years back when I was posting it, including a few folks that went through and commented on each chapter and really made my day. Maybe one day I'll actually finish it...

The only other thing I have that’s multi-chapter is a collection of missing scene ficlets, also Flash fic, but that doesn’t really count.

Actual worst part of writing:

My brain tends to be very visual when I'm writing fanfic for a TV show, and few things are as annoying as knowing exactly the facial expression someone is pulling and having No Idea how to describe it in words. Same with tones of voice. Also, I tend to jump straight into writing the bits of scenes that are most interesting to me, and going back and adding in the context that you need to make something actually readable for someone that isn't you can be a bit tiresome.

How you choose your titles:

It depends, tbh. A lot of my older fics are titled with short verb phrases that are pretty straightforward (like 'Moving Forward' or 'Breaking the Cycle'), but recently I've rather enjoyed using song lyrics. Most of my RWBY fics have lyric titles either from songs from the show itself or songs that I've got on my extensive Ironwood character playlist or otherwise just quite like and feel like they fit. I don't tend to find titles all that difficult, and I've got a fair few WIPs that have them already.

Do you outline:

Again, depends on the fic. With longer ones, yes, usually as a list of bullet points describing what happens. But shorter missing scene fics or things that I bashed out in only one or two sessions and only follow a single conversation tend not to be outlined because they just flow as I write them. I've got some more extensive outlines for a few of the fix-it AUs I've been playing with, but even then they're just bullet point lists or mostly held in my own head.

Ideas I probably won't get around to but wouldn't it be nice:

I have. So many. Most of them are RWBY fix-it fic, which is fun to write at the moment of divergence but then A Huge Endeavour to follow any further than that. I’ve planned out a bunch of different shapes for where the three different versions I’ve already written and posted would go, but there’s only one of them that I’m really continuing (aforementioned two fic series). Although I have a dilemma there, because the climax of the story arc that I figured out for that ‘verse would work even better in the other one that focuses more on Penny & Ironwood. But it’s not as simple as just throwing the idea into continuity with that one, because there’s a Major difference between the two in that in one of them, Qrow was the one who got through to Ironwood, and in the other they kinda hate each other over the whole ‘I blame you (and also me but mostly you) for Clover’s death’ thing, so I’d have to plot out a completely different relationship arc there which would have a knock-on impact on how well Ironwood is dealing with everything else. Canon divergence fic! it’s a good time.

I’ve also got So Much other RWBY fic in bits and pieces in various Google docs, it’s ridiculous. (Including a superhero AU that I’m rather fond of conceptually, but don’t really have a solid arc plot for.) A lot of it would be nice to get into a publishable state, but I probably won’t ever be bothered to.

On the not-RWBY front, I've also got a big Criminal Minds/Silent Witness crossover that I've planned out all the beats of, but actually writing it means coming up with the specific details of the murders and the autopsy scenes and a whole lot of technical stuff that I'm not comfortable just winging based on what I've seen on TV. But I also don't like researching real life crime stuff even though I love a good crime drama, so you see my dilemma. I like casefic in theory, but in practice I'm probably not going to write much of it. 

Callouts @ me:

Just because you’re an insomniac who mostly writes fic at night rather than sleeping doesn’t mean that every conversation fic has to happen as a result of one or both characters being unable to sleep, my dude. There are Other circumstances in which people talk to each other.

Best writing traits:

I’m good at character voice, although that’s a pretty standard thing to be good at. I also really like unconventional crossovers, I’ve gotten pretty good at playing around with conversations between characters who never met or aren’t even from the same universe and coming up with a believable dynamic for them. I also like to think that I’m good at getting into the heads of awkward characters and figuring out which bits to poke at in order to get them to do things they didn’t do in canon. (And figuring out how they rationalised the things they did actually do.) That’s a big reason why I liked writing Reverse Flash, the complicated bastard, and it’s why I’m having so much fun with Ironwood now. You’ve really got to work at him to get him to change direction, great big stubborn disaster that he is, and I think I’ve rather gotten the hang of that.

Spicy tangential opinion:

People should write more longfic focused on gen relationships. Some of the most fascinating relationships in stories, at least to me, are the ones between people you’d never expect to be friends, or between adults and the kids they feel responsible for who also feel kinda responsible for them, and that makes for a (imho) much more interesting story than most ships. I Live for a good complicated mentor/mentee relationship, but I hate looking for fic about them because then I have to deal with the fact that a lot of people ship those relationships and it squicks me out. Give me the longfics about types of relationships I actually care about!

(This whole thing is a good 40% of the reason that I’ve ended up get absorbed in planning out a RWBY Vol8 re-write where the parallels and the newly complicated relationship between Ruby and Ironwood is The Main Agenda. (The other 60% of the reason being ‘[x character] deserved better’.) There’s some Really Good Stuff there and I want to play with it in more of a longform situation than my usual oneshots.)

No pressure tagging:

@squireofgeekdom , @catgirlalchemist , and anyone else who wants to give it a go! Feel free to say I tagged you :D

[friendlylocalwhumper]

content warning: a central point of this drabble is that there is a lot of blood, to the point that i think it’s gore. also please check the tags for squicks!

Thin, jagged gasps slip out of Lux - quiet, quiet. He needs to listen. Listen to the footsteps, the man walking around. Taking a break from using the knife, or giving Lux time to gather himself for the next round.

The footsteps sound like they’re headed toward the windows. There’s a soft scraping and sliding: the fabric-lined cover of a book getting pulled across the surface of a shelf. The man makes a short amused sound.

“Weird old books. You like to read?”

Twisting his raw wrists in the rope binding them above his head, Lux licks his lips, clears his throat. They’re Emory’s books, but Lux won’t dare mention his boyfriend, put his life at risk. “I, I try.”

“You try? What, can’t read?”

“No, I just…” The blindfold secured over his eyes makes him terribly anxious, but the cloth gag out of its place and resting loosely across his throat is easily worse. Any touch there, any pressure at all, and it’s like his lungs forget how to do their job. It doesn’t help that there’s a knife in his stomach. “Nnh. I, ‘s hard, for me, to s-stay focused. I don’t, I, do-on’t get through books ve-ery fast.”

“Hmm.” The book slides back into its place on the shelf and the footsteps start up again. Lux can’t tell which direction they’re headed in, just that they’re still behind the sofa. He hears a small metal-on-wood sound, a clinking of glass. “Cute picture. You and him really look happy.”

It’s the picture frame from the little table under the windows, the picture of Lux and Emory on the beach. Lux usually feels proud when he sees it, a rare time that he let himself show his scars outside, and even rarer for someone capturing it with a camera - but now he feels nauseous at the thought of it, of this man seeing him and Emory holding hands and commenting on it like Lux isn’t lying in a pool of his own blood across the room.

The picture frame is set down. Footsteps. Lux can’t see, can’t be sure of his hearing. A stray whimper escapes him here and there as he waits for something to happen.

Footsteps on the kitchen floor. The fridge opens with a funny suctioning sound and a whirring hum of electricity. Something clinks. Is he taking something out to drink? Yes, a soda is opened with a crisp snap.

“Such a good host,” Jokes the man, and then he sets down the can, walks over. Lux shudders against the floor and clenches his jaw. “Okay. Tip your head back, now. Better angle.”

A tremulous breath. Lux obeys, or thinks he does, letting his head fall back an inch. There’s movement, the man’s shoes meeting the floor, the sound of someone crouching nearby, Lux has heard that enough times - fingers are in his curls in an instant and his hair is grabbed onto, his head shoved back until his neck is bared.

A moment passes, a terribly tense moment. Is the man angry, watching for rebellion, for a surrender? Is he looking for something? Does he just like to move suddenly and grab so that Lux takes these breaths that squeak with pure terror?

The hand leaves his hair, but the man doesn’t move away. Head still tipped back between his arms, his elbows are straight above him in the air, arms at a loose angle with his wrists tied to the leg of the sofa.

He wasn’t tied the whole time. He was just pinned, and then the weight lifted off of him, and he struggled. He pushed and scrabbled and stumbled to his feet to run. His bloody hands slipped against the walls, his shaking legs wobbled under him - and he was tackled, pinned, beaten. As if the guy didn’t love the rush of letting him think he could escape.

“Time for more of the knife, now. You know what that means, right? Say yes, last thing you’ll get to say for a while.”

“Y-yes.” Fingers brush against his throat, and Lux yelps. His attacker laughs as he scoops up the gag and pulls it back up to slide between Lux’s teeth. He even grabs Lux’s hair to pull his head up and pat his cheek before shifting to reach for the knife embedded in the warlock.

A long, winding keen slips out of Lux along with the knife’s blade. A hand presses over the wound, pushing down on it, around it - not to staunch the bloodflow, but to dip into the blood that spills out. The warlock’s jaw is grabbed, and the smell of the fresh blood so close, his blood, makes him eke out a muffled whine and try to turn his head away.

“Hey, hey. Calm down. Just making it a little more colorful. It’s a real shame that that blindfold’s on, you know? This place is covered in blood, I’d love for you to see it. You’d probably faint. But I guess it’s better this way, huh? Long as the blindfold’s on, you might get to live!” At Lux’s frightened sound, the man hums “mmhmm” in patronizing agreement. “If you see my face, I can’t let you go, can I? That blindfold comes off and you know you’re about to take this knife right in the head. So it’s good that I put that thing on you in the first place.”

Lux nods, petrified and eager to show his understanding, his gratitude. He doesn’t want to die, it’s worth the terror of not seeing what’s coming to get to live.

“Yeah. Okay, more knife.” The tip of the blade taps against Lux’s chin as if to tease him for letting things veer off-topic, and then it’s in Lux again, buried right into him with a quick, harsh stab down into his belly. The muffled scream that comes is answered with the blade sliding back out, and back in, a few inches to the side.

“Bit loud there, Lux. Got you gagged for a reason.”

The warlock whimpers behind the gag, nodding again in a wordless apology. His body shifts restlessly as the knife is pulled out again and dragged across his skin in search of a good place to be pushed back in.

Time drags on like taffy being pulled, stretched, wound across metal arms to droop and fold. Lux’s head remains tipped back as he takes slow shuddering breaths through the pain. He passes out, he thinks - get dizzy and nauseous, and then jerks awake, the knife lodged in a different part of his body, the man on the other side of his limp body. The warlock chews idly on the gag, tongue heavy and unwieldy. He whines.

“What? Yeah, it hurts, obviously. Why you making sounds again?” Fingers tap against Lux’s cheek, then slip under the gag to pull it out. Lux licks his lips and closes his mouth. “What’cha whining about?”

“Mmh, th-, th-...” The warlock’s voice cracks. He wouldn’t need water so bad, he thinks, if he knew he could get some himself whenever he wants to. Knowing he can’t, though, makes the need so much sharper. “Thi-irsty.”

“Oh! Hey, perfect solution.”

The guy gets up and walks away. The knife is on the floor, Lux thinks, definitely not in him right now. Dried blood cracks across his bare stomach as he lets out a slow breath.

The man is back, propping up Lux’s head, tipping a can of soda against Lux’s lips. He drinks eagerly, brows furrowed at the thought of this man having drank from the same can. He doesn’t care about germs, really, it’s just upsetting that this is all so casual, as if they’re close friends and he knows Lux won’t be bothered by it.

“Gotta be flat by now. Been sitting out for a few hours. No use cracking open a fresh one if this one’s sitting around, though, right?” He lets Lux finish off the can. After a second, there’s a rush of air across Lux’s chest and a loud clattering in the kitchen. Lux flinches. The guy threw the can, and missed the trash bin by the sound of it.

There’s a sigh above him. “Guess I’ve had enough time with you.” Fingertips touch Lux’s arm, then his cheek, sliding up to the blindfold. “Thinking about taking this off.”

A chill sinks into Lux’s heart. If the blindfold comes off, he’ll be killed, he remembers. The gag is still out from being given something to drink, he can beg, beg for his life. “Nnh, no, don’t, d-don’t wanna die, please I, I won’t-” The blindfold slips up, pushed so Lux could see if he wanted to. The warlock keens in panic and squeezes his eyes shut. “D-, didn’t see you, I, ple-ease please put it back, don’t ki-ill me, ple-e-ease!”

The man laughs. “Well, you are doing your best, aren’t you? You really don’t want to die. You’re sure you didn’t see me? Not one little peek?”

“N-no I didn’t, m-my eyes were closed the, the, the whole time, please l-let me live, I’ll never - I-I…” Lux isn’t sure what the man wants. He hasn’t said anything about Lux being good. He hasn’t called him a warlock, hasn’t yelled at him for using magic. Maybe he’s just mocking Lux, watching him fumble with his begging before killing him. A whine escapes the bloody, terrified warlock. “I-I just want… Emory.”

“Emory?” A moment passes. “Oh! Your boyfriend? You want him?”

“Mmh, mmhmm. Want… wan’im to sa-ave me, h-help… help me clean up, and f-feel safe, and s-say, say I was brave.” Pitchy warbles take hold of his voice here and there to make it nearly crack into silence. “I, I, d-din’t I… take it well? Di’n’I k-, keep quiet?”

“It’s all those scars, I bet, the ones under all this blood. You’re used to it. And besides, you weren’t all that brave, you made some sounds when you were trying to escape.”

Shame burns across Lux’s cheeks. “I know. I, I… ple-ease, I just, want him to find me, he-elp me.” If begging for his own sake does no good, then he can at least beg for Emory. It would be so much worse for Emory to come home to a corpse than to Lux hurt, bleeding and crying as he so often is.

“...Find you,” Mutters the man, patting Lux’s chest. “Yeah, find you! Oh that’s fun.” The blindfold is pulled back down, and Lux can breathe again. The gag is pushed back between his teeth - frightening, since he can’t beg anymore, can’t argue for his own life - and the knife comes back to his skin. Lux shivers. He thought it would be over, one way or another.

“Need more blood. We’re gonna put on a real show for when your man gets back!”

~

As soon as he opens the door, Emory freezes. Something is wrong.

The lights are off. Yes, it’s daytime, but Lux likes to keep the lights on anyway, so shadows and dark corners don’t trick his mind into seeing movement when no one should be around.

The door was unlocked. Lux keeps it locked, always, so no one can come in without making a lot of noise, or having the key. Especially when he’s home alone, that’s important to him.

Emory steps inside, setting down his bags silently. The framed photos on the table in the entrance are at an odd angle. There’s something smudged on the glass of one of them, but Emory can’t make out what it is in the dark.

He has an ominous feeling that he shouldn’t make a sound, shouldn’t turn on the lights. If someone was here, there’s no knowing if they left.

Carefully, he steps further into the house. There’s another dark smudge, on the wall. As he walks along, he sees bigger smudges, all trailing to a handprint.

He’s near the end of the little entrance hallway now, and there’s more than enough light from the windows to see the color of the smudges. Deep ruddy brown. Dried blood.

Emory turns, stiff with fear, to see a knife on the floor.

There are sounds, he can hear them now, coming from the living room. Whimpers.

He wants to help Lux, he does. He knows those are Lux’s sounds. He knows this is Lux’s blood. It all feels like a nightmare. He just… can’t know what state Lux is in until he sees it. He could just be stabbed through the hand. He could be missing a limb. Emory can’t know. Maybe Lux is dying, maybe he’ll die in Emory’s arms. A small, irrational part of his mind wonders if he can just sit down on the floor, and breathe, and wait to wake up. This can’t be real.

Emory comes out from behind the corner to see it. Lux, lying on the floor, covered in blood. It’s pooled under him, and smeared around him, on the walls, on the rug, on the sofa. Rope is wound around Lux’s wrists to keep him where he is. He’s shirtless, and there are so many new cuts across his front that Emory wonders how long it must have taken to make all of them. His arms are cut into, too, and his sides. It’s so thorough that it had to be slow and deliberate, not a quick brutal attack with rapid-fire stabs and a bolting criminal. This was torture.

Little fluttery breaths make Lux’s ribs rise and fall, blood weeping from the cuts in the skin there. As Emory gets closer, silent with horror, he sees the pink skin of Lux’s scarred wrists, worn raw from struggling. He’s still twisting his arms weakly to pull at rope that won’t give. He’s even letting out little frustrated whines as it gets him nowhere. Sweat beads in the divot between his collarbones, and on his brow.

There’s a strip of cloth tied around his head to serve as a gag, and another one over his eyes. It’s not right, hurting someone in their own home, someone as vulnerable as Lux, and taking away their ability to see and speak. It’s amazing that Lux isn’t sobbing into that gag, that the blindfold isn’t soaked with tears.

Emory crouches next to his boyfriend, hands hovering. Lux quietens his breaths and tips his head to listen. Emory can’t speak, his throat’s clogged with grief.

With his most gentle, most careful touch, Emory tries to move the blindfold.

Lux’s whole body jerks with his flinch, a desperate cry cracking out of him as he tries to hide unders his arms. Wordless, panicked sounds are muffled by the gag. There’s a tremor in Emory hands, now, that echoes Lux’s full-body shaking.

“Hey, Curls, it’s just me. Just me, just Em, honey. I’ve got you.” His voice is hushed. He’s sure that there’s no one else in the house, but this still feels like a delicate, dangerous moment. Lux is so scared, must have been for… hours, probably? Days, maybe.

A smell, one that was vague at first but is stronger now, overwhelms Emory. He blinks, looks around, and finally down at Lux, at his jeans. There’s a slowly growing dark spot there. Emory scared him so bad that Lux wet himself.

The horror settles deeper in Emory at making this more difficult for Lux. How humiliating, how degrading it must be to be tied up on the floor of his own home and cut into, blindfolded and gagged. Emory’s not making it any better.

“I’m sorry, honey.” His voice cracks with guilt. Being upset over seeing all the blood isn’t an excuse for doing this wrong, for scaring Lux after whatever he just went through. There’s so much blood, there are so many cuts, the pain must be unbearable. Lux whines behind the gag. “I’m gonna take off the blindfold, okay? It’s just me, it’s safe-” He tries again, fingers dipping under the cloth, but Lux jerks his head to the other side with a pitchy sound. The warlock is breathing quick and shallow like he’s going to get stabbed for turning away.

“You don’t want it off? ...Okay, that’s okay. What about this?” He taps against the cloth stretched across Lux’s cheek. He gets a hesitant nod in response. “Okay, here goes. Just this one, I promise.” The gag is pulled so it can stretch enough to get out from between Lux’s teeth and be untied. Lux takes deep breaths, rolls his jaw with a wince.

“Em?” Asks Lux, small and unsure. “‘s you?” He shifts uncomfortably, shame settling across his features. Emory cups his cheek and leans down to press a kiss to his forehead.

“Yeah, honey. I’m sorry I scared you. I just… I got freaked out. I wasn’t thinking. There’s… a lot of blood.”

A shudder tears through Lux. “H-he said… I know. Ca-an you - please, my arms?” His wrists tug on the rope half-heartedly.

“Yeah, ‘course, I got you.” The rope is wound tightly around itself, stuck in tense knots. Emory pulls at it, digs in with his nails, but can’t get any give at all. The room seems to get physically colder as he remembers the knife lying on the floor nearby. “...Honey, I’ve gotta cut the rope.”

“C-cut the…?” Under all the blood stains, Lux pales. “With the…?”

It’s covered in blood, the blade and the handle both stained. Emory could go get a different knife, or scissors or something… but he doesn’t know if he can stand Lux fearing he’s been left for good when Emory stands and walks into another room. He doesn’t have to patience to do that whole thing. Lux deserves to be free, now.

He reaches for the knife. Freezes, kneeling at Lux’s side, looking down on the blood-stained, cut-up body of his boyfriend, the knife that did it weighty in his hand. If he was Lux, he’s doubt for a second, wonder if he actually did the cutting. But he’s not Lux.

The knife doesn’t do the job as fast as he’d hoped. Emory’s incredibly careful not to slip and nick Lux’s wrist, sawing through one of the rope’s knots. It takes a couple minutes of cutting, Lux’s breaths coming in short gasps, before the rope falls loose and can be pulled apart. As it slides along those raw wrists, Lux moans in pain.

“I’ve got you,” Emory murmurs again as he gingerly lowers Lux’s arms. “There. Better, honey?”

Lux gives a noncommittal groan.

“Do you think I can take off the blindfold now? Now you know it’s safe?”

“Nnh, d-don’t, I - he, h-he said if, if I see him, he’ll kill me, I - d-don’t wanna die.”

The frightened confession steals Emory’s breath. So Lux was attacked, was terrorized. No wonder he’s so scared, even now. “Right. But he’s not here, now. Just me. So it’s safe. He’s gone, you won’t see him.”

Emory slowly helps Lux to sit up, and is beyond relieved to find that there are no cuts across his back. He rubs circles there, eager to comfort in whatever small way he can.

“Mmmnh, but - he… I th-thought he was gone… thought he was, a wh-, while ago, and when - when I tried, to, to get untied, he…” With a whimper, Lux presses a hand to his stomach, over some of the stab wounds. “...Wh-, what if, he’s n-not gone? I, I can’t… I tried, to - to do wha-, whatever I had to, s-so you, you wouldn’t come home, to see… see, me, see me dead.”

Grief clogs up Emory’s throat once again. Lux tips his head to the side, breaths quieting again, listening for a response. He’s scared.

“Sorry, Curls. It’s okay. God, I’m sorry that happened to you. The blindfold can stay on if you want. Let’s just… get you cleaned up, and on the bed, okay? And I’ll… I clean up all the… everything, while you rest. So when you do feel okay to take it off, you don’t see… things.”

~

Pink bathwater drains languidly from the bath, bloody footprints wiped from the tile floor.

The rug, out in the living room, has been rolled up and shoved under the couch - Emory didn’t think it would be smart to toss a blood-drenched rug out on the curb.

The walls and floor are wiped down, but the stains won’t leave. Emory’s checked his bank account on his phone about ten times to make sure he has enough to spend on covering up the flooring and painting over the walls himself.

Lux lies in bed, passed out, pale. His whole chest is wrapped up in pristine white gauze, winding up from his waist, over his ribs, up over his shoulders and down his arms. He was able to relax once all the cuts were covered up, held secure. Blood seeps through the bandages in little spots.

He shook and apologized when Emory helped him get undressed and step into the bathtub. As if the blood was fine, the deep cuts and torn skin, but the fact that Lux wet himself would be enough to frustrate Emory. He just guided Lux to kneel in the water so it wouldn’t rise above his hips, and carefully wash between the cuts. It would be awful to get them infected - he doesn’t even want to imagine the fever that would come, the pain Lux would be in.

At least he’s asleep now. He went boneless, at one point, between getting his body bandaged and making it to the bed. Emory knew the pain was bad, but feeling Lux faint in his arms, it made his heart clench with guilt as if he piled up all the agony on Lux on purpose to knock him out.

So by sundown, the house is as clean as it’ll get. Lux is tended to, safe, set to heal.

Emory sits on the now-bare floor in the living room. The knife lies in his hands, still stained with Lux’s blood.

All he did was spend one weekend away. A convention: books, like-minded thinkers, seminars, vendors, lunches. Three days away from home. Lux had sworn he’d be fine. They texted, right when Emory got in the car to leave; Lux didn’t answer any of the following texts, not for Emory’s whole trip. He thought maybe Lux forgot to check his phone, or was trying to prove he would be fine alone.

Someone took advantage of that, of Emory being gone. Someone knew he’d be gone. Knew that they’d have three days to spend on tearing Lux open and spilling his blood all over their home.

He can’t help but wonder, as his grip tightens on the handle of the knife, whether this was torture for Lux, or a message for Emory.

[unsettledink]

(Part two of looking back at the fandoms I was in and the fics I wrote in 2020)

(Part one here.)

*

Most popular story:

    By Kudos (and comments), Seiche : By hits, Indefensible : On tumblr, Pocket Change

Story you wish was more successful:

    Well, that’s kind of the curse of writing rare pairs. I want anything with Tony/Quentin or Peter/Quentin to be more successful, lol. Defining the feeling of success in fandoms/pairings like that is tricky, because— do I wish they’d gotten more attention? Of course! Do I consider them fairly successful because they got any attention? Yeah, kinda.

Something like Intent got very little response, but considering the size and age of the fandom, it actually felt successful to get any response?

The entire Old Adages series I really wish had found an audience; I’m very fond of it, and it’s… softer than I usually write? The filthy smutty kinky stuff always outpreforms anything else, and that sort of thing feels easy for me. And I’m extrapolating a lot for young Quentin’s characterization, so I’m a little insecure about that as well.

Most "Holy crap, that's wrong, even for you" story:

    You know, there are several stories I feel like should be that? But let’s be honest, considering what I’ve written in the past, they’re not that bad. 

    So I’m going to have to go with Creepy Crawly. I mean, I get squicked a little if I read it in the wrong mindset. SPIDERS D:

Hardest story to write:

    Causality. I just… could not quite connect somehow. I had the image in my head fine, but when I went to write it I felt pretty meh. I think I hadn’t done much (any?)Peter POV at that point, so that was a stretch. And I think I’d been spending so much time in the world of Gotcha that any other version of Peter/Quentin felt strange. I got it done, I have a sequel planned, but it was a struggle.

    No Lies was also tricky. I picked the prompt ‘make-up’ because I had this crystal clear mental image of someone kneeling, crying, makeup smeared all over them. But I didn’t know WHO. I tried so many pairings and characters, and even when I figured out that I really wanted that to be Tony… who with? Could I actually make Peter behaving that way believable?? Once I got it sorted out the writing was easy, but getting there - gah.

Easiest story to write:

    Indefensible was bizarre to write, because it literally just arrived in my brain in one giant chunk, complete, and I just had to transcribe it over a day or two. Very odd. 

    Pocket Change was much the same. The idea appeared and that first image of Tony holding the bill was just… there. The rest of it fell into place so easily as I went along.

Most fun story to write:

    Just a Bite was a lot of fun to write. It’s a topic I enjoy anyway, and I like trying to focus in on one element like that. Peter discovering a new thing he liiiiikes is always a ton of fun.

    11:59 was also surprisingly fun? Like— three characters that have interesting dialogue patterns, a slightly darker Tony, being able to indulge in nasty Quentin without him being quite a villain, the constant shifting of emotions for everyone in the room. Just so much going on in small ways. There are totally at least three more fics set in that universe. 

What’s your personal favorite thing you wrote this year?

    Tough call, but probably A Perfect Fit. Really, the entire insane little universe that’s expanding into. Definitely not something I would have expected at ALL back in January. 

What’s your least favorite thing you wrote this year?

    Maybe Can’t, Wont? Idk. I didn’t have a strong enough idea for the prompt to really make something of it, I guess. And writing Peter/Quentin is kind of difficult at the moment. It feels weird because I’ve spent so much time in the world of Gotcha that other takes on the characters are odd.

If you could go back and change something about one of the fics you wrote this year, what would it be?

    Probably Want What I Want. I knew what I wanted and I just couldn’t quite make it function. So I went with a slantwise version of it - which isn’t bad, but doesn’t have the focus I wanted it to. It felt like more of a twist on the prompt than I wanted. I’d like to go back and expand it out, dig into the specifics of the prompt a little more.

    And tbh, I got a comment on that very point. I’m normally really good about letting go of comments? But it was something I’d questioned myself, so it stuck more.

Story that shifted my own perceptions of the characters:

    (Just) Waiting Around? Maybe? As much as I love top/experienced!Peter, I had to sit down and figure out how I might be able to actually get him there, convince the reader that this was a Peter that current Peter could become. 

    And any of the Tony/Quentin fics. There’s not a lot given for Quentin in canon; taking those little bits and trying to follow them back to these younger version of Quentin was really interesting and difficult. How do I make this character the softer, more open, more vulnerable, less confident version of himself from 10/15 years ago, and still keep those sharper edges that will grow and take over? How do I make the reader believe both that this version could have existed and that version could actually become the canon one? 

Story that was most different from what you usually write:

    I mean, Relief? I’ve never written het before (and probably never will again, lol), but I wasn’t going to let the chance to write redwings pass me by. 

    In general, all the freaking ABO. Which I’d never written before this fandom, though I’ve read tons of it. Not something I really expected to write? And then suddenly I’m not just writing it, I can’t seem to stop. 

    Sustain felt pretty different, and it took me a moment to figure out why (don’t laugh at me!). I’ve never written straight up non-sexual kink before. Not just a kink scene that doesn’t have sex, but a kink scene that doesn’t even have the intention or desire for sex. Completely removing that additional layer of tension and complications is fascinating. I’m really interested in expanding that verse.

Most unintentionally telling story:

    Oh, other than Gotcha, lol? Um. I don’t know if any really are? Maybe Backhand, or Sustain. Hmm, maybe Getting Started, though it’s not finished. 

    Now I wonder what conclusions those have people drawing.

What’s your favorite piece of description or narration?

    Oh my god, what an impossible question. Uh. This is difficult because I… think of images in words? I feel very odd about the bits I picked, Idk. 

    It’s so small, and I don’t know if I captured it as well as it is in my head, but I come back to it so often:

Stark sits on the bed, and then seems to get lost, or distracted, not moving again until Phil pushes him gently towards the middle of the bed. He gets Stark curled up on his side, just a sliver of his back touching the sheets.

There's a chair against the wall that doesn't look too modern, so hopefully more comfortable than most of the monstrosities around here; Phil has a feeling he's going to be here a while, watching Stark come back up. He stands, about to walk away when there's a soft touch on his hand. He looks down.

Stark's arm is stretched out, his fingers just barely resting on the back of Phil's hand. He's looking up at Phil out of the corner of his eyes, head just barely turned towards him. It's a clear a request as anything spoken; stay.

"I'm not leaving," Phil tells him. "I'm not even leaving the room. I was just going to get a chair.'

There's a breath, a hesitation, Stark's hand not leaving his, and then it's gone, Stark dragging it back in, turning his face into the pillow. That was the wrong response, something about it was just... wrong.

"Stark," Phil says, leaning onto the bed. "Do you want me to stay here? On the bed? I wasn't sure you'd be comfortable with that." After all, this doesn't seem to be at all sexual for him.

Stark doesn't say anything—Phil's not entirely sure if he's nonverbal or not—but he turns his face back towards Phil a little. Doesn't quite look at him, and doesn't make a move; he's not going to ask again, not after what he obviously took as a rejection. His reactions are odd, not much like Phil had expected. 

    - Sustain

Or:

Beck gets Peter turned around, still kneeling but settled back against Beck's legs, leaning into it. "Toss me his shirt," he says, and Tony throws it at his face, Beck managing to catch it before it connects. Laughs, like this is fucking funny. He slips his hand into Peter's hair and tugs his head back a bit, wiping the come off his face.

"Take five, baby," Beck says, and Peter hums, resting his head on Beck's thigh and staring at Tony. Beck's petting him, hand sliding slowly though Peter's hair, and it's a fucking nightmare that Beck knows what that feels like and Tony doesn't. "You see?" Beck says. "He likes it a little rough. A lot rough, sometimes, so don't worry about hurting him. Don't worry when he cries," and Tony glares at him.

Beck's looking down at Peter, though, and then Tony is too. He's turning red again as Beck talks, but he's not denying anything, and not looking away from Tony.

Beck's hand trails down Peter's neck, hooks around the front and pulls him back; Peter's head tips back, exposing the whole of his throat to Beck's hand. "He's a little embarrassed by it," Beck says, "but he's an awfully sweet submissive too. Aren't you, honey?"

Peter looks up at him, his expression soft, open. "Yes, sir," he says, and Jesus Christ, Tony had no idea how much he wants Peter to say that to him. Peter likes it too, not just giving it lip service judging by the way his cock is getting hard again. Beck smiles.

"I'm going to miss you," he says. "You've been a lot of fun, baby." He looks up, catching Tony's eye, a smirk growing slowly on his face. "Guess I'd better make sure the last time makes up for it."

     - 11:59

What’s your favorite piece of dialogue you wrote this year?

I mean, I’m very fond of Hang Up, it’s like 85% dialogue.

Alternatively:

"Looks like you're finally ready to be fucked," Tony says. "Bets on if you'll come on my cock, or if I'll have to give you a reach around with this?" settling the gauntlet on Quentin's hip.

"No," Quentin says, shaking his head as much as he can manage, "no, no, Tony—"

Tony leans in, thighs pushing Quentin's legs apart, the head of his cock bumping up against Quentin's ass. "If you manage it just once without my hand," he whispers, ducking his head and rubbing his beard over Quentin's shoulder, "I'll fund every last thing you ask for."

"No," Quentin moans, because he can't.

"Don't worry, sweetheart," Tony says. "I'll make sure you can."

    - Make Sure

Story with the single sexiest moment:

    AHHHHHHHHH fuck this is the hardest one. 

    Secondhand and Gift Wrapped both have some of the hottest moments, I think:

    Peter's so hard he can barely think, absolutely can't control the way his dick jumps in Quentin's hand. He doesn't want to hear about this, doesn't want to imagine Tony with Quentin at all. Doesn't want Quentin to stop.

Quentin kicks off his pants and then he's crawling up over Peter, staring down at him with that manic glint in his eyes that Peter knows well enough by now to worry about. "He fucked my face like that," Quentin says, watching him. "Kept babbling that shit and fucked my throat nearly raw. Can't you hear it, honey?" and Peter can, he can.

"Can't you imagine it?" Quentin asks, and Peter can.

    - Secondhand

And:

    Peter wants— he curls his fingers in Tony's hair and yanks, Tony's head hanging loosely from his hands. He looks wrecked, sweaty and his whole face is dark, his lips wet and red and puffy, all from Peter's cock. When he opens his eyes, it's like he's not even seeing Peter, completely lost in his own little world; he's stiffening slowly, his spine rounding and he tries to brace himself, his eyes going wider and his breath getting shorter and— and is he about to come, Peter wonders. Is he really going to come just like this, from being fucked like this?

He is, he totally fucking is because a moment later Tony stops breathing entirely, his head jerking hard against Peter's hold, his whole body jerking as he comes. He gasps, eyelashes fluttering, and Peter can feel Tony's come landing on his legs, holy shit.

Pepper eases her thrusts, sinking into Tony and just rocking against him while he comes. Waits until he's gone limp, sunk down even more between her hands and Peter's; "Peter," she says. "Get a good grip on him for me. He gets all wiggly afterwards and I'm not done."

    - Gift Wrapped

    But if it comes down to what is probably my favorite - 

    Peter had already been pretty out of it when Tony came back, already wound up and just existing, no thoughts and no worries, nothing but want and feeling and response. He’d already been awfully close to flying, and this— this drops him over the edge, completely. 

Some part of his head is aware of the way he’s thrusting up into Tony’s mouth, Tony taking it happily, drooling around him; is aware that Peter’s tossing his head back and forth, fighting against Rhodey’s tight grip on his hair, only making it worse with every yank. Is even a little aware that the others must be watching him, watching them, watching just like Rhodey’s looking down at him, Tony looking up, their gaze so heavy on Peter he can feel it, just like he can feel everything, every touch and every texture and every single spot his body is in contact with anything. Can feel everything, too much, overwhelming, amazing, and he doesn’t know if it’s that, or the pain of Rhodey’s grasp, or the wave crashing down on him as he comes that have him crying. Maybe it’s all of them, or maybe it’s just that he’s wanted like this, kept and held and wanted. 

Rhodey kisses him, gently, and Tony crawls up over him; kisses Rhodey and kisses Peter and Peter could stay just like this forever. He can see Tony’s mouth moving, talking to him, then Rhodey, then him again, but his head is full of nothing but static, white noise.

    - Flaunt

    (So, uh, what does it say that all of those are threesomes?)

*

Stories I haven't yet written, but intend to:

    SO MANY. Beyond the fics I’ve got going for other people and Gotcha, and the (hopefully) one off continuations of kinktober fics, I really want to focus on - 

    The rest of Deep End (I know it all exactly!)

    The sad AI Peter/Tony, real!Peter/Tony

    Branches of Aegis

    ONE of my longer ABO pieces. 

    Fluffuary & Kinktober, again. 

Fingers crossed. I don’t even want to think about how many more ideas will come creeping in.

[pale-silver-comb]

Do you have a head canon on individual kinks and squicks for the OT3?

Hmmm....you know, I have never actually thought about this. Well, except for Eliot. There is no-one who can convince me that Eliot Spencer does not have a massive praise kink. Both in general - as seen throughout the entire show - but also I can imagine it’s something he really likes when with a partner. Either to be good for his partner(s) or please his partner(s). I think he’d just be content knowing he makes Hardison and Parker happy in whatever way he can but I think he gets right-down-to-his-bones satisfied/happy when Parker and Hardison comment on how well he’s done or doing something. He cherishes those little moments, especially because they aren’t violence related. He’s being praised for doing good. For being good. And while Eliot tells himself it’s enough to know he’s doing good on his own - helping people, making food, etc - when Hardison and Parker notice it and compliment him? He melts. Parker and Hardison make sure not to take advantage of it - especially during jobs - but sometimes they can’t resist just to see the way it makes Eliot smile. (I also like to think this is something Eliot has never shared with past partners - with Aimee it possibly wasn’t even on his radar because wanting to be good probably comes hand in hand with his violent past - and he doesn’t always know what to do with the emotions he experiences when Parker and Hardison purposefully use this knowledge to make him feel good. Sometimes it even ends in snuggles which makes Hardison deliriously happy.) 

When I see posts or fics about Parker, I can definitely see her being on the asexual spectrum. With a view she isn’t sex-repulsed (or isn’t asexual, as not everyone sees her this way) I don’t think Parker would have any specific kinks or squicks. I think she would maybe have definite adrenaline rushes after jobs that might lead to some interesting situations, but mostly I think Parker would just be really curious about a lot of stuff and like exploring them. For example, testing all the different ways Eliot responds to different types of praise and taking pleasure in trying them out. Like how maybe some types of praise make Eliot very soft and quiet, like a form of subspace, while others inspire him to be playful. Or wanting to use rope to tie Hardison or Eliot up nice and pretty (it wouldn’t even be with a sexual end; she just likes the way the rope looks). I also think Parker would definitely have things she doesn’t like but more in the sense of “I don’t get why anyone would want to do that” - probably about vanilla things more often than not - but is happy enough to acknowledge Hardison and Eliot like it and leave them to it (or on more than one occasion, casually eat a bowl of cereal while they do said thing, making Hardison and Eliot both a little confused but not necessarily uncomfortable). One headcanon I cannot shake though is Parker not being able to understand why Hardison and Eliot don’t find the prospect of having sex hanging upside down off a building sexy. It combines her two favourite things: high places and her boys! 

I think Hardison is the one who gets super excited about role-play and dressing up. I don’t know about specific kinks but I think Hardison is definitely the one in the relationship who enjoys the build-up the most. The foreplay. He probably likes being in character or setting just the right atmosphere/scene. Parker probably doesn’t see the point of this most of the time but she does find it fun, and Eliot definitely doesn’t see the appeal of dressing up or role-playing but he does it for Hardison and he has to admit, he’s never laughed so much during sex before. Most of the time when Hardison wants to try something, Parker and him end up laughing (aside from the times Eliot wants to strangle Hardison) which sometimes annoys Hardison, depending on how elaborate the role-play is and how much time he spent on it, but Hardison does appreciate that they do it and sometimes Parker will say something like “next time, we should time it so Eliot comes in after we do that” which touches Hardison more than he can say. One time Eliot comes home with a hat that completes a costume Hardison has being wanting to use for sometime, telling him “not a word” before disappearing into the kitchen and refusing to talk about it when Hardison tries to tease him. As for squicks, I don’t know about that, but all I can think is Hardison is a hard no on anything that cuts off air supply (for obvious coffin related reasons). 

[writtenbyjenn]

Homework

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Reader Warnings: None Squicks: None Genre: Fluff Word Count: 2280

If there are any spelling or pronoun errors, please tell me! All of my fics are gender neutral. _________________

Draco slammed his forehead on his book. His homework was just not turning out right, no matter how many times he wrote, rewrote, or reread his textbook. He crumpled the parchment that sat in front of him and tore it into shreds. When he threw it back onto the table, it knocked over his bottle of ink, spilling it all over. Draco groaned. With a wave of his wand, the ink and the paper were cleared.

He picked up his books and started heading away from the common room, intending to go to the library. Maybe a change of scenery would help loosen his mind and allow him to finally understand the assignment. He was not looking forward to it, having an intense fear that someone would realize just how stupid he felt.

Draco walked alone through the corridors- he sent Crabbe and Goyle away long ago, not wanting his underlings to see him in such a sorry state. Eventually, he came upon the library. Opening the doors, he saw small groups of students dotted among the tables, each either completely absorbed in their homework or not all, gazing off into space and desperately willing their homework to complete itself. He saw the one person he was most excited to see- a lone Ravenclaw he was sure he could convince to help him. Draco walked over to them.

“You’re a Ravenclaw.” The student in question flicked their obviously blue scarf over their neck without looking up, their eyes still glued to the paper their quill was dancing across.

“Yeah,” they said, still scribbling furiously. Their writing was intense- whatever homework they had (if it even was homework, Draco had never seen that textbook before) they were determined to get it done. Their writing was so small he couldn’t make it out from across the table, and the parchment looked almost totally black with the amount of ink covering it.

“So, you’re smart,” Draco said simply. The Ravenclaw let out a dry chuckle.

“You would be surprised,” the student motioned to another group of Ravenclaws in the corner of the library who were currently trying very hard to blow a portion of their homework up without alerting Pince, the caretaker of the library.

There was a slight pause as Draco stood there before the Ravenclaw continued.

“…. Yes, I’m smart. At least compared to most.”

Draco sighed and smiled, “Just what I needed!”

The Ravenclaw looked up confused as their quill stopped. They saw Draco Malfoy, holding his textbooks and parchment in front of him excitedly. Their face steeled as they looked back down, quill resuming its frantic scribbling.

“No matter how much you threaten me, I’m not doing your homework for you.” Draco’s face fell.  

“Nonono, that’s not what I meant!” His face turned pink. Did he really have that much of a reputation of threatening people? He knew was a bit wand happy with hexes and jinxes in the halls….  

“I just wanted help with my homework,” he said shyly, a pale hand moving up to ruffle his hair and hide his embarrassment.

For the first time, the Ravenclaw in front of him looked up and met his eyes, trying to see if he was being honest. Draco gulped. He knew the student well from the hallways and a few double classes they shared- they were Y/N, not the absolute smartest student at Hogwarts (that went to Hermoine), but one of the best Ravenclaws there were. Draco knew that they would be able to help him without letting the whole world know he needed the help- they seemed like a drama repellant. Pansy and Parvati tried teasing them many times, but no matter the insults they hurled or rumors they spread, Y/N just shrugged and walked away unaffected. It drove the girls insane. They eventually stopped, more so for their own sanity rather than getting bored.

Y/N looked up at Draco. For a long moment they held eye contact. Draco gulped again. His throat felt dry. Why was he so nervous? His thoughts were interrupted by the movement in front of him. Y/N had looked back down at their paper, but their other hand was motioning to the seat beside them. Draco let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and sat down next to them, spreading his books out and readying his quill and parchment. Y/N looked over at his excited expression and their lips curved into a small smile. Draco’s heart flipped. He had never been so excited to do homework before.

Soon enough, the pair settled into a rhythm. Draco would write, Y/N would correct or make comments.

“Your handwriting is so messy. Also, that is wrong,” Y/N said, pointing to a specific line that Draco hastily scribbled out. There was a slight moment of silence- no words were exchanged, and Draco’s quill stopped for a brief second. He looked over at his tutor. Y/N was leaning on the table, their head resting on one hand. They had a gentle smile on their face.

“…What is it?” Draco broke the silence.

“Nothing,” they said, looking back at the parchment in front of them. A moment passed where Draco looked at them before they continued.

“Most people get angry when I correct them, because I don’t bother sugar coating things,” Y/N looked a little embarrassed as they scratched the back of their neck.

Draco didn’t respond, as he knew he was the same way. He simply smiled, and Y/N understood. He had quite the reputation, after all, for speaking his mind without thinking (or waving his wand as soon as the urge struck, without regard as to who or why). The two continued in amicable silence, only stopped by the occasional blunt correction by Y/N.

Soon enough, his homework sat in front of him, finished. Draco let a content sigh slip from his lips as he leaned back.

“All done, then?” Y/N said.

“Yes, and I’m quite glad. I couldn’t have done it on my own. I appreciate the help,” Draco said, putting his things away. He looked over to his companion, who was grabbing their own work once again, eyes trained back on the parchment they were scribbling on before Draco came over.

“You’re welcome, Draco,” Y/N said simply. Draco frowned. He didn’t know why, but he wanted to pull them out of their shell. He wanted to see their eyes again, not trained on their paper like it was the only thing that mattered. He wanted their sparkling, mischievous eyes trained on him and him alone. He wanted to see their face again, their expressive face, reacting to the stupid things he said and the stories he told when he didn’t feel like answering the questions he was assigned. A plan sparked in his mind.

The week passed quickly, and it was time to put his plan into action, if Y/N would be willing to endure his presence again. He hoped so, Draco thought as he pushed open the door to the library once more. As he suspected, Y/N was sitting at the same table as before, scribbling in the very same frantic manner. He walked up to them again.

Y/N looked up, saw him, and gave a slight smile. Draco’s heart leaped. As Draco approached, Y/N pushed their books and papers to the side.

“Need help again?” Y/N said, a smile on their face and hands folded in front of them.

“Yes, please,” Draco said, a lopsided smile on his face.

Their routine became clear quickly. Every few days, Draco would come to the library to spend time with Y/N get help with his homework from Y/N. Y/N would push aside their work every time and help him with his homework, often interrupted with anecdotes or jokes from both students. A few weeks passed in this manner.

“Draco,” Y/N asked, looking towards him with an unreadable expression on their face. “Why are you here? I know you don’t need help with this. It’s your best subject. You do just fine in class.”

Draco paled. He scratched his neck absent mindedly, eyes trained on a peculiar stain on the floor.

“I, ah, I know,” He paused for a second. He could feel Y/N’s eyes trained on his face, which was rapidly heating up, “I just like spending time with you,” he said, eyes not rising from the floor. He was so embarrassed. He couldn’t believe the words that came out of his mouth. Why did he say that? He wanted to hide under his scarf or apparate away.

Y/N sighed before speaking. “… I like spending time with you too,” Y/N said. Draco looked up hopefully. Y/N was in the same position as him, face flushed and looking away. Draco grinned from ear to ear.

“Well, then we should spend some more time together,” he said, growing more confident with each word and the blush on Y/N’s face, “How about we go to Hogsmeade together next weekend?”

“… As a date?” Y/N said.

Draco paled once more, but pushed forwards, with a resolved “Yes.”

“Okay,” Y/N’s hand lifted to brush a stray hair behind their ear, smile on their blushing face.

Draco couldn’t wait for the next Hogsmeade trip, but until that time came, he still went to the library to spend time with Y/N. He invited them to many things, most of which Y/N politely declined when they saw the group of Slytherins behind him, most of which held a disapproving glare. Y/N always made sure to come to his quidditch matches though, and Draco could never resist showing off.

Draco entered the library, and for the first time, Y/N wasn’t there. On their table (which many students now avoided sitting at, for fear of Draco’s wrath) was a note. He recognized the scratched, near-illegible writing instantly. He picked up the note.

Draco,

Don’t you think the grounds are very nice this time of year? I’m underneath the tree by the lake.

See you soon,

Y/N

He left the library and headed outside. The sun was shining, and he had to admit, it was very nice out. It did not take him long to find Y/N, situated under a shaded tree. They had their eyes closed, drifting off while the shadows from the leaves danced over them. Draco was entranced. Books and parchment were spread on the ground all around them, it was clear they had been there most of the day. He stepped towards them, and they stirred, wiping their eyes with the back of their hand.

“Don’t let me interrupt your nap,” Draco said quietly. Y/N hummed in response.

“Why don’t you join me?” They said sleepily. Draco’s face turned pink and his eyes opened wide, but he didn’t decline. He moved closer and sat next to them, back leaning against the rough bark of the tree. Y/N scooted closer and laid their head on his shoulder. Draco tentatively wrapped his arm around their shoulder.

“…Is this okay?” Draco asked. Y/N just let out a soft mhm before closing their eyes again. In a near instant, they were asleep. Draco felt their weight slump against him. He didn’t know what to do, where to put his hands. After a panicked moment of looking down at their peaceful face, he relaxed. Draco laid his head down on top of theirs and let out a soft sigh. In a few moments, he too was drifting off to sleep.

He awoke some time later. He didn’t know how long it had been, only that the noonday sun was now creeping near the horizon. Y/N was still stationed next to him, but they were no longer asleep. Their head still rested on his shoulder and his head atop theirs, but their eyes were trained on the book in their hand. He watched as they ever so carefully flipped the page with a smooth movement and not a lick of sound.

Draco’s heart leapt when he realized they were so gentle and quiet because they didn’t want to wake him.

He didn’t hesitate to move, wrapping his arms completely around their waist and pulling them lower onto the soft grass. Y/N dropped their book and cursed but let out a soft giggle when Draco nuzzled into their neck.

“Feeling bold, aren’t you?” Y/N mumbled, hand brushing through his blonde hair.

“Yes,” Draco replied simply. He pulled back, letting his arms pin Y/N to the grass.

“I must still be sleepy,” he continued, looking down at them. The evening light danced between the leaves and cast jumping shadows across their adoring face.

“Or maybe you just do that to me,” Y/N was looking up at him and their eyes locked. He could see their chest moving with each breath, the leaves and grass bits in their hair, feel their warmth, see those adoring eyes, and he leaned forward with no hesitation.

The kiss was soft and sweet and seemed to last a lifetime. He never wanted this moment to end, but he had to come up for air. He opened his eyes, and Y/N lay beneath him, a perfect gentle smile upon their lips. He leaned down once more. ________________________

Draco walked to the library, like he did every day. He glared at first years that passed him by and sneered at the Gryffindors that passed, but as soon as the library doors closed behind him, he relaxed. He let out a sigh and a soft smile appeared.

Draco held his books in front of him, lopsided smile on his face as he walked up to the familiar table they used every day, and asked the same question that brought them together,

“Help me with my homework?”

[ridasverkisto]

So something I’ve been feeling more and more recently is the fact that I interact with certain parts of fandom culture differently from allo folks.

Like—shipping. Aside from some few squicks (incest, adult/minor ships, that sort of thing) I’m not usually bothered by whether or not a relationship is platonic or romantic. And something that got slapped in my face recently is that people tend to envision romantic ships as somehow “deeper” or more meaningful than platonic ships, which I sort of knew before, but not to this extent?

Like, I literally had to have a discussion with a friend over how I see certain ships in one of our shared fandoms, and he and another friend started talking about—“well they’re so close—“ “I see them as brothers, y’know?”

And I’m over here going “uh. Guys. I never said familial platonic. I just don’t see them as romantic, even if they do have a brother vibe sometimes.”

Or the times I’ve had to explain that “&” as a relationship tag is so very....inadequate. I mean, yeah, we have a platonic tag!! But also, compare it to “/“. You see “/“ and you immediately know it’s romantic and/or sexual; but you see “&”, and the author has to clarify what kind of platonic relationship it is. Is it familial? Close friends? Qpr? Mentor-student? It just...feels inadequate to me, but I’m the only one that feels that way it seems like.

Or—simping. Finding characters hot. Like—I genuinely cannot understand people who look at characters and go “ah yes, if they were real I’d absolutely tap that.” Like???? I know they can feel complex and real and grow and it’s amazing—I love character growth and dynamics, but so many people seem to find their favorite characters based off of how sexy they find them, or how bad of a crush they have on them! And I just don’t get it!!! Fictional crushes?? How do allos even function??

It’s even worse when I’m like, reading a fic that’s got really good dynamics and writing (rich characters, lovely prose, the works), and then they drop a sex scene in as a “treat” or some sort of weird “gift,” and people go nuts in the comments for it. Sex scenes are almost always superfluous, because you can write them out so damn easily.

And don’t get me started on the weird rules people impose on themselves regarding shipping being only A/B or something. Why does a ship have to be only two people so often? Why does a romantic relationship (in fiction or IRL, but ppl project so much) have to be the most important part of a characters life? The most important relationship they have????

And why does every character have to be shipped with someone? People are allowed to be single!! Not even just characters headcanoned as ace or aro (which is a whole other discussion, bc why does everyone assume an ace and/or aro character will be forever alone???), but anyone can just be single and happy that way!!!

Idk, maybe it’s just me being the outsider here, surrounded by a culture I only understand from the other side of a glass wall. Sometimes all of this stuff just makes me feel like I’m stuck on the other side of an invisible wall, or some kind of cuckoo alien imposter of a human being.

I’ve kind of lost the point here, but I guess it’s just a sort of screaming into the void about how isolating a lot of this feels, because so few people actually really get it without me having to explain my perspective on any of it. I appreciate my friends, and they try, but like—it’s still isolating when you’re constantly surrounded by a world that looks at your relationships and how you interact with the world and deems it somehow lesser or wanting.

And try though some might, that shows in fandom too. It shows in people using platonic tags for romantic relationships, or how there are so strikingly few fics that feature explicitly queer-platonic relationships in any way compared to the vast library of romantic ship fics.

I’m a rickety lifeboat, constantly surrounded by cruise ships on an ocean with no land in sight. Alone in the crowd, tiny against the vast shapes and so, so easily ignored. Trapped behind an invisible wall, tapping on the glass to be heard.

Most of the time, I can ignore it. Sometimes—all I can feel is hopelessly alone and out of place, never really able to understand or relate to what everyone else says is “normal.”

Is it so wrong that I wish I knew people—close friends, people I could talk to IRL, laugh with, form a rapport with—that actually understand how I feel, rather than try to meet me halfway over the gulf of mutual incomprehension?

I don’t think so, but maybe I’m wrong.

[mellometal]

Hello, I found you through your Dhar Mann post. I would like you to know he is extremely problematic - he made a video that was pro cop, it was a white woman who wanted to defund the cops and she decided to leave the movement as one cop helped her. One cop doesn't mean all cops are good, and also in the video Dhar made the white woman the victim, and not the black men who are the #1 target of cops. In his video about racism the white woman is rewarded for being racist to her son's black friend with a brand new laptop. My point is, Dhar Mann makes a lot of videos with awful morals. If you would like a black person's perspective on it, I recommend watching Jarvis Johnson's video response to Dhar Mann. Thanks for your time!

Hello there, anon. Thank you so much for sending this in! I'll be sure to look into this further.

A lot of Dhar Mann's videos are gross, especially the ones about racism, the ones that try to tackle disabilities, and about fatphobia. I do know about the video that's about a mom being racist towards her son's black friend and the laptop stuff, which is terrible by itself. I know it's a video and they're all actors; however, it doesn't change the fact that those events DO happen in real life...and I really don't understand what his whole deal is. Maybe he's trying to act like he's superior? There are many theories.

I find some of his videos interesting because he really thinks he's trying to "change lives" and all that jazz, but in reality, there are people tearing his videos apart because of his twisted morals. I don't understand why he repeatedly makes videos like that. I personally don't follow him or support him because him as a person is a real squick. I just find his videos on my feed on Instagram while scrolling and watch them to mentally tear them apart and make fun of. His video about ASD was the first video I mustered the courage to make a comment on.

(ETA: We are all about loving Black people, Indigenous people, Latino, Hispanic, and South American people, Asian people, Pacific Islanders...everybody here. Everybody except for racists, pedos, that kind of thing! I forgot to add this in. My apologies.)

About the pro-cop video, I had no idea he made a video about that. I knew about the one video about the woman cop in training, but not about the pro-cop video. Thank you for letting me know. Despite me trying to keep this account a safe space as much as possible, I will say that ACAB, we need to defund the police, and we need to reform the police. I have some more very colorful choice words about the police that I won't get into here. (I heard he scammed people too before all the videos full of cringe and reek of wannabe superiority, but I don't have any evidence to support any claims about that. That's something I'll be looking into more as well.)

[eirenical]

@takethewatch​ replied to your photo: @fixaidea found a trope tier generator that looked...                

   I kind of assumed that baby fic meant de-aging … That’s one that I just don’t. Get. Why.   I mean to each their own, but like, I understand the appeal of ABO even if its a squick for me personally.  I just don’t get de-aging.  But anyways that’s a tangent, what I intended to say in this comment was I misread it and totally forgot about all the other baby fics.  But honestly I have so little interest in those that the category still belongs under nope for me    

AHAHAHA.  OMG, Yeah, there are plenty of other baby fic.  I am generally not into BABY baby fic?  At all?  But I can sometimes get behind kid fic.  Like “oh look my OTP or fave character has somehow acquired a child” kind of kid fic?  Because that can cross over into found family territory which I-- OMG, FOUND FAMILY WASN’T A TROPE CHOICE EITHER, WTF, HOW DID I NOT NOTICE THAT????  *coughs*  ANYWAY, so yeah, where “kid fic” crosses over with “found family” I can often find common ground that I enjoy.  Otherwise, I’m not interested.  :P

As for de-aging... I am RIGHT THERE WITH YOU.  I... OK, look.  I read and write and enjoy noncon fic.  I will put that one right out there.  But there is a very specific part of my id that that scratches.  On the contrary, there is something about the way that consent (and often the lack thereof) plays out in de-aging fic that makes me VERY uncomfortable.  Maybe it’s because it’s usually the person’s friends who are treading all over their consent and thinking nothing of it?  Maybe it’s because it’s often used as a way to “redo” a person’s childhood in a way that changes who they are when they’re turned back into an adult?  IDK.  But the way that they de-aged August (Pinocchio) in OUaT to do EXACTLY THAT, STILL fucking pisses me off and is the reason I never finished watching the show.  So, yeah.  I’m right there with you on de-aging.  NO, THANK YOU.

takethewatch replied to your photo: @fixaidea found a trope tier generator that looked...                

But really, unhappy endings?  This from the writer who brought us Muet?  (Altho in fairness I don’t know what the end of that story was going to be/will be.)    On that subject tho: do you find the categories are the same or different for you as a writer and as a reader?    

AHAHAHA.  OK, FAIR.  XD  First of all, I think I was thinking of this mostly as a reader, not a writer, though there’s a lot of crossover for me.  And by unhappy endings, I’m thinking of the “all light has left the building” variety.  Like that one should-have-been-a-barricade-day fic that I wrote where Courfeyrac and Feuilly died... and even then, I had to write a sequel to fix it because I couldn’t just LEAVE IT that way.  XD

(And Muet is definitely still a ‘will be,’ for the record--I am NOT abandoning that fic.  It is still my baby.  I just needed a break from Les Mis for a bit.  ;D)

(Forgive me, this is about to get heavy, so...)

Because yeah, the key for me is that as much as I love putting characters through it (or seeing them put through it), if everything ends in darkness with no hope... it just leaves me cold and feeling kind of sick.  And if it happens unexpectedly--where the happy ending is snatched away to reveal an unhappy ending right at the last minute, that can actually land me in borderline trigger-y territory.  The last time I read a fic that did that to me, it left me feeling jittery and low-level anxiety attack-ish for a good two weeks after, and as much as I loved the fic (up until that point), I haven’t even been able to make myself go look at it since then.  I don’t even remember what it’s called, because I don’t want to accidentally put myself in the position of reading it again. 

I think maybe because fiction is my retreat?  It’s my escape from all the really dark shit that goes down in the world.  So, I NEED IT to end happily.  Like... it doesn’t have to be everyone lives and shits rainbows kind of happy, but there at least has to be a LITTLE hope that things will get better.  The only time I’m OK with it not going that way is if I know ahead of time that that’s why I’m getting into.  Like on Barricade Day.  I’m going into that darkness knowing it’s there and willing and consenting and, more than that, KNOWING THAT THE BOOK, ITSELF, ENDS WITH HOPE (...and that there are a thousand modern AU fluffy things I can pick up to read the second I’m done ;D).

So, yeah, as dark as Muet is?  It’s going to end happily.  It won’t be a perfect happiness.  There will still be some healing to do.  But, as far as I’m concerned, that’s the entire POINT.  I want to take all these damaged, unhappy, beaten down souls... and get them all to a point where they have at least HOPE for healing, if not actually healing.  Because that’s where the catharsis is for me.  There may be suffering... but for that suffering to be cathartic, there has to be an end to it, eventually.

So, yeah.  Unhappy endings are a hard NOPE for me except for VERY specific circumstances.  ^_^

And this was probably WAY more than you bargained for, but I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately.  XD  And I always love to talk about tropes and why I’m drawn to the ones I’m drawn to... and why I’m NOT drawn to others.  XD