#i enjoy fics where the author really Gets the characters. any relationships are fine but i tend to prefer fics that are <60k words

[arithmonym]

i’m sick right now, and you know what that means: it’s time for me to eat soup and read fic!

one day i’ll make a more thorough rec post, but these fics are some of my favorites. i plan to revisit them this weekend :-)

a pain star has entered your house

And rising in the dead time of the night

at the end of the world, but not before

Aught But Death

Both halves sword and shield

come, dearest heart

(i carry it in]

I Won’t Stop Till I Get Where You Are

Incident Report

[requiemforthepoets]

hii do you write for franco? if yes can i request a fic where reader is short and insecure about her height so she’s afraid their relationship won’t survive his “f1 career” cause of the lifestyle and all the girls he’s going to meet so despite really loving him she tries to breakup with him but he won’t let her?

tell me that you’re still mine, tell me that we’ll be just fine 𖦹 FC43

PAIRINGS: franco colapinto x female!reader

SUMMARY: when you found out that franco will be racing for williams racing, you were so proud of him. though at the back of your mind, you can’t help but overthink about your relationship with him now that he’s finally in f1.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: hi! thank you so much for sending your request. it’s my first time writing for franco, but i really had fun. i hope you’ll like this one and it’s up to what you were expecting. enjoy! :)

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WORD COUNT: 1.6k

WARNINGS: not proofread, typos, insecurities (mostly comparing self to others), cursing, low self esteem, overthinking, anxiety, and no use of y/n

As you stand in the Williams garage, you can clearly hear the hum of the whole circuit buzzing all around, and you can’t help but feel so proud. Franco had just achieved what he had been dreaming of since childhood—his first official race in Formula 1. It should have been one of the happiest moments of your life, watching him stand there, helmet in hand, chatting animatedly with the engineers, that wide grin plastered on his face. You knew how hard he worked for this, how many nights you spent listening to his dreams, encouraging him through the frustrations of karting, and celebrating every win, every milestone. You were there through it all, and here he was now—your Franco, living his dream.

However, alongside the pride that you were feeling, a bitter feeling also crept in. It had been lurking at the back of your mind for days now, only growing stronger with each passing moment. It was not about Franco’s career, but more about where you fit into his new world. The glitz and glamor, cameras that seemed to follow every move, the polished and perfect people that surrounded him—people you had never imagined yourself fitting in with.

Lily, Alex’s girlfriend, had been nothing but sweet to you all weekend. You bonded with her quickly, her kind words and warmth is a welcoming comfort amidst the chaos. Yet, as much as you liked her, being around someone so gorgeous and effortlessly poised had only made you feel even smaller. You weren’t tall or glamorous like her or the other WAGs, nor were you used to the attention, and you barely have a successful career. You were just…you. A university student trying to get by through her classes, someone who barely knew what to do when a camera pointed your way, and someone who couldn’t help but wonder if you were truly cut out for this kind of life.

When Franco finally made his way back to you, you could hardly breathe. He greeted you with that same wide smile and a soft tender kiss on the lips, his eyes still sparkling from the thrill of the race.

“Can you believe it?” He laughed, pulling you into a hug. “I can’t believe I just raced in F1. This is really insane.”

You smiled weakly, arms wrapped around him. Trying to steady your racing heart. “I’m so proud of you,” you murmured against his chest. But the words felt heavy, there was something you needed to say, something you dreaded.

After the media frenzy died down and the team began to clear out, you knew it was time. You asked Franco if the two of you can go to his driver’s room, away from the lights, cameras, and the noise. He nodded and led you towards his driver’s room, completely oblivious to the storm brewing inside of you.

When you reached his driver’s room, he locked the room to give you two some privacy. Franco quickly sensed that something was off with you, immediately frowning.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, as your hands shook as you fumbled with the words. “Franco…I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Do what?” His voice is gentle but confused.

“This. All of this.” You gestured around vaguely. “I don’t belong in this kind of world. I don’t look like the other girls in this kind environment, I don’t act like them. I just feel like…I’m not cut out for this, you know. For you.”

He blinked at you, and then—he laughed. A soft incredulous sound that only made your chest tighten. “You’re joking, right?” But you just shook your head, throat tightening painfully. “I’m serious, Franco.”

His smile faltered, eyes searching your face, and then he grew serious. “You’re breaking up with me?” He sounded like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing at all.

You bit your lip, feeling your resolve crack under the weight of his words. “I think I have to.”

Franco stepped closer, shaking his head in disbelief. “No. No way. Hell no. You’re not doing this.” He grabbed your hands, holding them tightly. “Tell me why. What’s really going on?”

You stared at the ground, unable to meet his eyes. How could you even tell him? How could you put into words the overwhelming insecurities that you had been drowning in.

“I’m not enough for this life, for your life,” you whispered, voice barely audible. “I’m just…me. You deserve someone who can handle all of this, someone who doesn’t feel like they are drowning every time the cameras turn their way. I’m scared that this will change us, that it will change you.”

Franco squeezed your hands tighter, forcing you to look at him. “You’re scared?” He asked softly. “Of what exactly? That I’ll stop loving you because I’m in F1 now?”

You nodded, chest tightening as tears began to fill your eyes. “I’m not like them, Franco. I don’t belong here.”

He pulled you into his arms, resting his chin on top of your head. “Listen to me, and you listen well,” he whispered. “You’ve been with me through everything, literally everything. Since my karting days. You’re the one I want with me, not some random model, not someone from this kind of environment. You.” He gently cupped your face, making sure that you were looking directly into his eyes. “I’m not breaking up with you. Not because of this, not because of anything. I love you so much. If this life makes you uncomfortable, we’ll figure it out. Together.”

You shook your head, still overwhelmed with doubts. “But I don’t know how to—”

“I don’t care,” he interrupted softly. “I don’t really care about any of that. All I care about is you. I’m not losing you just because you think that you’re not enough. You’ve always been more than enough for me.”

Tears finally spilled over, and Franco wiped them away with his thumb. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily, okay?” He added.

You let out a choked laugh, burying your face in his chest. “Okay,” you whispered, feeling the weight of your fears slowly start to lift.

Franco kissed the top of your head as he kept you close, his voice soft but firm. “Look at me,” he said, lifting your chin so your eyes met his. “There’s no one else I see in my future but you. No one else who matters like you do. I don’t care about the noise or what other people say. Let them talk all they want, I don’t give a shit. You’re the most important person in my life.”

His words wrapped around you like a warm blanket chasing away the chill of insecurity. You couldn’t help the way your heart fluttered, how much you wanted to believe him. “But people will judge, Franco. They already are.”

Franco shook his head, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “I don’t care about them. They don’t know you like I do. I’ve seen you at your best and your worst, and I’ve loved you through it all. That’s what matters, not their opinions.”

You bit your lip, trying to push away the lingering doubts. “It’s just I don’t want to hold you back. You deserve someone who—”

“I already have someone I deserve,” he cut you off, voice unwavering. “You’ve been there for me through everything, you believed in me when no one else did, even when I wasn’t sure I believed in myself. I’m not letting you go because of some stupid insecurities about fitting in with this world. I don’t need someone from this world. All I need is you.”

Tears welled in your eyes again, but this time they weren’t from doubt or fear. They were from the overwhelming love you felt at that moment. “You’re sure?” You whispered, voice trembling. “You’re really sure?”

Franco smiled, the kind of smile that made everything else melt away. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. You’re my future, not them. Not anything else. Just you.”

As you stood there in his arms, you let yourself believe it. Because the way he looked at you, the way he spoke, it left no room for any doubts. You were the one he wanted, and that was enough.

After a long moment of silence, just feeling the comfort of being in his arms, you finally pulled back, wiping the last of your tears and giving him a small and sweet smile. The tension that had been weighing on you had lifted, already been replaced by the familiar warmth you always felt around Franco.

You wrinkled your nose playfully, trying to lighten the mood. “Okay, as sweet as this moment is, you really need to freshen up. You stink.” You teased, giving him a playful nudge.

Franco let out a laugh, the sound light and easy. “What? No way, I smell like pure victory,” he grinned, pulling you back into his arms, purposely trying to rub his post-race sweat on you.

“Franco!” You squealed, trying to push him away. “Ew, Franco! You’re all sweaty!”

He laughed harder, his arms tightening around you for a second before he finally let you go, raising his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright, I’ll go and freshen up,” he said, his grin still wide. “But don’t think I didn’t notice how you were crying on me. If anything, you owe me for that.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “Fine, fine. I’ll owe you. Just go clean up before I regret taking you back,” you teased, earning an exaggerated gasp from him.

Franco winked at you before heading off to freshen up, not forgetting to steal a kiss from you. “Don’t go anywhere, I’ve got plans for us to celebrate.” He threw a playful look over his shoulder.

You shook your head with a laugh, feeling lighter than you had in days. The doubts that once felt overwhelming now seemed small in comparison to the love you shared. Franco was right—together, you could figure out everything, just like how you both always do.

[python333]

Hello!! I absolutely adore your 141 platonic fics, I litterlay giggle and kick my feet when you post new storys about it. Especially since they're always gender neutral! Litteraly always check to see if youve posted a new fic, but anways!

I'm a really big sucker for found family mental health fics, especially when I'm experiencing rough times. If your comfortable with it, I was wondering if you could make the 141 catch Reader self harming or maybe just seeing the self harm on their arms accidentally and comforting them. Always love a comforting found family fic on cold nights.

If it's easier, I really love really any of your hurt/comfort type 141 fics with all my soul and eat them up anytime you post them. Especially since there isnt much gn!reader and TF 141 platonic hurt/comfort fics. So if you aren't busy than that's another option I would love to see!!

If your uncomfortable with it then that's fine and you can just ignore this post! Make sure to take care if youself aswell author. You're absolutely amazing! 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

self-slaughter — python333

— — — —

synopsis reader is a medic and is caught harming themselves by the 141 in the medbay!

relationships platonic!taskforce 141 & gn!reader

characters cap. price, soap, ghost, gaz.

word count 6.6k

warnings self-harm [specifically using a scalpel], self-harm scars, dark thoughts [nothing too bad, but thoughts of pulling off your skin and harming yourself], painful wound cleaning [with iodopovidone], 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of c/n [code name/call sign].

note hello anon!! i too am a big sucker for found family mental health fics, and completely understand this request, and i will happily write it for you!! a lot of this is based on my own experiences with this, so i hope that's okay and that you enjoy the fic!! as well as this request, i'll use this fic as an excuse to write a few prompts on my bad things happen bingo card, which will be displayed at the end of the fic! the prompt used will be: painful wound cleaning! expect wayyyy more angst after this LMAO. also, if this feels like glorification or anything else inappropriate for a fic like this, then please let me know! since it's mainly based on my own experiences, i assume it wouldn't feel *too* much like that, but still!

It gets kind of old after so long of doing it. 

Almost like it’s a chore—as if stealing glances at your medical equipment, tools meant to save the lives of others, and wishing that it were being used to draw blood from your body was just an inconvenience. You complain about it in your head like you used to about school, like it was nothing more than some homework that was due a minute before midnight. 

Right now, you’re alone in the medical bay. It wasn’t often that you were, typically two bumbling idiots would stumble in every few minutes talking about how they got injured while sparring, but for the past thirty minutes it’s been silent. While you appreciated the break from the constant explanations of why the soldiers you were to tend to had gotten injured, with the silence came very unwanted thoughts. 

And with nobody to focus on came your unwilling lingering stare at the sharp scalpel on the small metal equipment cart that was just a few feet away from where you sat. It didn’t help that you felt oddly guilty today, either. 

Well, the guilt wasn’t odd. You knew where it came from. It just felt odd, considering the cause for it happened a week ago. 

The cause had been on a critical mission last week, where you were responsible for carrying medical supplies and ensuring the team’s well-being and general health. The medical equipment wasn’t particularly expensive or hard to get, but it was still incredibly important. 

However, on that same mission, right towards the end of it, you’d been caught in the midst of an intense gunfight. Distracted by the heavy enemy fire, you dropped the small bag you’d been using to carry the medical supplies, and hadn’t noticed you did until it was too late. By the time you and the others were out and heading back to base, you had just realized you left behind the medical equipment. 

All week, your fellow task force members had reassured you that it was okay and that it wasn’t that big of a deal, considering nobody got hurt. Still, even a week later, you’re hung up on it. Had someone gotten injured, what could you have done? You didn’t have any supplies to help them, so what would you have done then? Just the thought of that possibility makes you shudder. 

The scalpel looks so tempting.

It’s not like you hadn’t used it before—you have the scars to prove you had, ranging from small lines that could be mistaken for cat scratches to tiger-stripe length cuts that make your thighs look as though they’d been mauled by a large animal. As elegantly as you describe them in your head, the visuals of them aren’t nearly as pretty. With the help of that scalpel, a few sharp needles, and some medical scissors, you’d successfully made it look as though a bear had tried to attack you and tear your legs off. 

Ironic, isn’t it? A medic harming themselves? 

Your job is to literally save the lives of others, and here you are, staring at the closest thing you have to a knife in the medbay. It’s become as easy as blinking for you—which is scary, honestly, the way you’ve developed a tolerance for cutting yourself and stapling your skin back together if you’ve cut too long or deep. 

It’s no longer enough to just scrape something sharp across your skin and watch blood bubble up from the broken seams of your flesh, no, now you have to cut even deeper to actually feel anything. You have to feel the scalpel being buried to the hilt in your flesh, and you have to see the way blood spurts out of the self-inflicted wound after you pull out the tool. 

You continue to stare at the scalpel, sure that you look like you’re in some sort of trance right now. 

It looks so tempting. You can remember the last time you used it—three days ago, the longest you’d gone without it in a while. Similar to cigarette-addicts, you often tell yourself that you’re able to stop whenever you’d like—that you’re able to quit at any time. It’s a lie, and you know it, but you still like to pretend that it’s true. 

You’re still staring at the scalpel. 

Its sharpened edge reflects the overhead light, creating a bright glow that strains your eyes when you stare at it for too long. The metal of the handle is worn down from use, even though it’d only been in the medbay for maybe a few months—something nobody had questioned yet, thankfully. The clean blade, replaced just yesterday, had no traces of filth or grime on it, making it even more tempting. 

You blink. You hadn’t noticed the burning of your eyes until you forced them away from the small knife. 

You move your gaze to your lap, where you fiddle with your fingers, gently tugging at a hangnail that’s been lingering on your thumb for the past few minutes. As you pull on it, you feel the sting that it brings, though that sting now feels dull compared to the other things you’ve done to yourself. 

It almost feels like a small pinch compared to the ways you’ve mutilated your thighs on certain nights that didn’t allow you the energy to do anything else, or the ways you’ve carved apologies in the forms of lines into your arms to try and gain forgiveness for your thoughts and temptations. 

You pull the hangnail off completely and watch the miniscule droplets of blood bleed through your flesh and meet your skin and nail. Before you only had the energy to do your job and harm yourself, you would’ve hissed at the sting pulling off the small bit of skin caused you and grabbed a bandaid immediately, but now, all you can think about is how it isn’t enough. 

About how much better you’d feel if you pulled all your skin off. If you could feel every inch of your skin stretched to its limits and torn off of your body, because God knows you deserve it. 

The thought makes you wince. That is… disgusting. Why am I thinking about that? You shake your head in hopes that it would shake away the dark thought, but instead the action makes it rattle inside your brain and break off into tiny bits in pieces, small unwanted thoughts of wounding your flesh rolling around your mind. 

Similarly to Sisyphus and his boulder, you try to push those thoughts out of your mind, your hands starting to curl into tight fists, but you just can’t. Every time you push a thought back, it comes rolling back to the forefront of your mind, the momentum it gets from being pushed back so far only to get rocketed forwards making it even more unbearable to think about. 

The fists your hands have formed become tighter. 

Each thought that gets pushed back only jumps forwards once again, ricocheting around your brain, the effort of trying to ignore them making your ears ring. 

Before you realize it, your gaze snaps back to the scalpel. 

You don’t even notice the blood that begins to spill from your palms from how deeply your nails cut into your skin. 

Every thought tries to be louder than the other, creating an unholy cacophony of sound; a terrifying harmony that only grew louder every second that passed. You stare at the scalpel. It continues to reflect the bright gleam of the overhead light, and it continues to make your eyes strain the more you look at it, but you can’t find it in yourself to be all that bothered about the eyestrain. 

You unclench your fists and stand up, walking the short distance over to the metal medical cart where the scalpel lays, and you grab the handle of it with shaky hands. You look over at the door for a moment, and stay there for another few seconds.

Once you see that nobody’s coming in, you rush yourself to one of the beds, sliding open the curtains in front of it and sliding them back so that they’ll obscure anyone else’s view of you using the scalpel on yourself. 

You sit on the bed and although the scalpel almost slips out of your hand because of the blood from your palms, you manage to keep held in your tight fist, holding it like you would a pencil; tucked under the base of your thumb, and going through the gap between your index and middle finger. 

With your hands still trembling and your breath uneven, as well as a bustling mind that only grew louder as the scalpel in your hand grew closer to the skin of your forearm, you made the first incision. Almost immediately, your mind quieted, and your headache dimmed. 

Quickly becoming addicted to the feeling of a clear head, you lift the scalpel from your skin, not waiting to watch the blood bubble up from your open wound like you usually would, instead opting to make another incision right next to it.

Being a medic, there was nothing you could really do to stop yourself from thinking about how deep each incision was, and how deep you were cutting into your flesh—so while you cut yourself, a train of thought begun. 

Half an inch deep, You push the scalpel deeper, Now a full inch. Should take a month or two to fully heal. Wouldn’t scar. 

The thought of it not scarring should make you happy, or at least, neutral, but instead the thought makes you frown. Some odd hunger that comes from the indefinite pit in your stomach craves evidence for the malice you’ve shown towards your own skin, something that would prove your self-hatred. 

So, you go another half inch deeper. Scarring would be possible, but not as high of a chance as if you went another half inch. With that thought, you go the last half inch. There we go. 

You slide the scalpel blade through your flesh, the blade cutting through it like it would a firm fruit like a pear. It’s easier to cut through skin when the skin is pulled taut, You think, If only I had an extra hand.

You pull out the blade and repeat. You feel less guilty already.

All that worry about fucking up during your last assignment washes away, like the wave of guilt that overcame you earlier receded and pulled back that worry with it, lowering the tide of shame and self-reproach within you. In fact, the tide lowers so much that it almost completely disappears from your mind—like it never existed in the first place.

Reminds me of a tsunami, You repeat your actions with the scalpel, When the tides get low, so low that the ocean floor shows and you could walk where you’d originally have to swim, it’s because a tsunami is building up.

You look down at your work. Your forearm is a bloody mess, crimson red dripping down to your fingers and threatening to drop onto the stark white sheets of the bed you’re sitting on. You sigh tiredly and get up from the bed, putting the end of the scalpel’s handle into your mouth—ignoring the voice in the back of your head that reprimands you for not thinking about bacteria or contamination—and biting down to hold it whilst you slide the curtains in front of the bed to the side, walking out of the small resting area. 

You grab the scalpel and set it onto the metal medical cart by your desk, grabbing the gauze on that same cart, opening the small box it’s kept in with your non-bloody hand. It’s a struggle, but you manage it open, and you shake the roll of gauze out onto the cart. 

In the middle of you attempting to pull the end of the gauze off of the roll so that you could begin to wrap it around the red lines decorating your forearm, you hear loud footsteps walking near the medbay. You freeze in place, the gauze roll in one hand, your eyes burning holes through the door with how intensely you stare at it. 

There’s a knock. Then another. 

The door handle twists. 

You stare at the door, and everything feels like it’s in slow motion for a second. 

The door opens. 

“Hey, dae ye hae any—” Soap walks in, the sergeant taking one look at you before cutting himself off with a confused and immediately worried, “Holy shit, whit happened tae yer arm? Are ye alright?” 

He rushes over to you and takes your bleeding forearm into his hand. You almost immediately rip it away from his grip. 

“Nothing! Everything’s fine! Just an accident,” You lie, holding the blood-covered forearm close to your chest, “I was just about to clean it up.” 

“Dae ye need help wrappin’ it, an cleanin’ it up, or anything?” Soap asks, eyebrows furrowed and his expression beyond worried. 

“Nope,” You insist, “It’s fine. All good here.” 

“... Ye sure?” 

“Uh huh,” You nod your head, “All good. Don’t worry about it.” 

“‘kay then,” Soap tilts his head and crosses his arms, “Whit happened?” 

“Just a little accident with some of the equipment,” You nod down to the bloody scalpel on the medical cart, “That’s all.” 

It must be obvious you’re lying, because Soap sighs and says, “I think we baith ken that that’s a lie.” 

You stay silent for a few moments, before Soap speaks up again, “Ye ken if ye dinnae tell me, I’ll jist jump tae conclusions, richt?”

You take a deep breath before mumbling something under your breath. When Soap’s eyebrows draw together in confusion, you repeat louder, “I used the scalpel. On myself.” 

“Ye whit?” 

“I used the scalpel on myself,” You look away, and rush out, “and I’m really sorry, I just couldn’t help it, it’s not like— like a normal thing or anything, it’s just this once, I swear, and— and—” 

“[c/n], calm down,” Soap quickly uncrosses his arms and sets both hands onto your shoulders, furrowed eyebrows now taking a more concerned shape, “It’s okay.” 

You take a deep breath and look at him, looking at his nose instead of his eyes because you don’t think you could handle eye contact right now, “I’m really sorry.” 

“Why would ye dae that tae yerself?” Soap asks, voice soft and almost pitying, which makes you want to curl up and die. 

You shrug, not wanting to answer verbally. 

“Dae ye— dae the others ken?” Soap questions. 

“No.” 

“I’m—” Soap looks conflicted for a moment, “I hae an assignment… I’ll get Gaz tae help ye, aye? An’ I’ll check in wi’ ye as soon as possible?” 

You hesitate, but end up nodding in agreement, thankful that Soap offered to get Gaz rather than one of the others. The others seemed so oddly scary right now that you don’t even want to think about how they’d react to this whole situation. It’s all gone by so fast—one moment you were sitting on a hospital bed, the next you’re found out by Soap of all people—you’ve barely had time to think about the others. 

“Okay. Okay, okay,” Soap repeats the word under his breath like a mantra, thinking to himself for a second before sighing and looking down at you again, “Jesus, fuck, okay. I’ll go get him, ye stay here, aye?” 

You nod again, this time your vision begins to get more blurred. 

“Ye’re gonnae be okay, okay?” Soap tries to reassure you. You nod once again, sniffling a little bit, making Soap’s gaze soften.

He takes his hands off of your shoulders and gives you one last sad look before turning around and rushing out of the medbay, his thundering footsteps growing quieter as he gets closer to Gaz’s location—most likely his sleeping quarters. 

You wait a moment and when you hear no footsteps, your gaze goes back to the blade. It’s not like it’ll hurt to do a few more. I’ll stop when the others arrive. 

You grab the handle of the blade, and as quickly as you can, akin to an addict scrambling for substance, you slice through the skin of your non-mutilated hand. You make several quick and deep gashes before dropping the scalpel onto the medical cart again, breathing heavy, the cuts this time actually hurting. It felt like fire was running rampant through your nerves, all stemming from the self-induced wounds, and you winced at the new pain. It wasn’t anything you weren’t used to, but still.

When you hear footsteps again, you can tell they aren’t Soap’s. 

The door clicks open and in walks Gaz, already looking very worried—presumably from what Soap told him about your… situation—with another person in tow. Right behind him, Price walks in, expression neutral so far. 

Gaz looks over at you, his eyes widening as he sees the bloody gashes in your forearms. Without a second thought, he rushes over to you, his hand reaching for your forearm. Before you can stop him, he grabs your bloody forearm and pulls it up a bit so that he can look at it closer. You flinch, and Price quickly walks over to you two before Gaz can even utter a single word. 

“Let’s not, okay?” Price’s version of ‘knock it off’, “I’m here, I’ll take care of their… thing. You hand me what I tell you to. Understood?” 

“Yup— Yes, sir. Captain,” Gaz corrects himself quickly, making a slip-up that in any other situation would’ve made you at least chuckle, but all you can do now is stare at the pair as you hold your bloody arms to your chest. 

Price looks back over to you and nods over to one of the many empty curtain-surrounded beds and says, “Go sit over there and wait for a few seconds.” 

You nod, not knowing what else to do or say, and immediately walk over there. It’s the room furthermost to the right, the one that’s also the closest to the door and the one you’d coincidentally gone into to cut yourself. 

You slide the curtains to the side and sit down on the white bed, and just a few seconds later, just as Price said, he walked in as well. He sat next to you, Gaz in tow, the latter carrying a jar of cotton pads and balls as well as a bottle of Betadine.

Betadine—or iodopovidone, whichever name you preferred—was a sort of antiseptic that was generally used for cleaning cuts and wounds. Maybe not ones as deep as yours, but it would still work just as well. 

Despite it not being alcohol-based, or really having any alcohol in it, it still hurts the same as rubbing alcohol would, which you were… definitely not looking forward to.

“Sergeant,” Price takes the jar and bottle of Betadine from Gaz, “Go and grab the skin stapler for me.” 

“Yes, sir,” Gaz nods, walking out of the room once again. Price sets the jar and bottle of Betadine onto the bed beside himself after he leaves.

With you and Price now in the room alone, he turns to you and holds out his hand with his palm faced up for your arm silently. You carefully put your forearm onto his hand, watching as he gently pulls it closer to him, looking a bit closer at it before sighing through his nose and using his free hand to open the jar of cotton pads. 

“How did this happen?” He asks, breaking the silence. 

“Soap didn’t fill you in?”

“No.”

You think about what to tell him for a moment. What’s too straightforward? What’s too vague? How do I not overstep? How do I not sound like I just want attention? 

Eventually, you settle on, “I was— … I saw the uh… scalpel, and I just… decided to use it a little bit. On myself.” Definitely not the best you can do, but what else could you say? ‘Oh, I cut myself with a scalpel because I felt guilty and if I didn’t I probably would’ve had a panic attack or a mental breakdown’?

“…” Price pauses for a moment, eyes twitching for a split second before he continues his movements to grab a cotton pad and questions you, “Why?”

“Why what?”

“You know what I’m asking, [c/n].” 

He’s asking why you did it. There’s not one simple answer you could give him—sure, you could tell him that you felt guilty and it was a bad habit that you’ve told yourself you could stop but never tried to, but that wouldn’t be the whole truth.

You can’t fully express or dictate why you do it, you just do. It’s like when you cut slits into bread before baking it. Without those slits, the bread would crack and split at the seams on its own, but with them, the splitting and expanding of the dough is controlled. 

Except, with you, it’s like you’re cutting yourself before the tension building inside of you makes you burst at the seams. Taking a blade to your skin has given you a sense of control—maybe that’s why it’s so addicting, You think, it’s the only way I’ve been able to control my feelings. 

But you can’t just say all of that. Well, you could, but did you want to? Fuck no. 

Instead, you opt for shrugging, which doesn’t satisfy Price one bit. 

“I could see you thinking about it,” He sighs, “I know you at least have some sort of real answer.” 

Well, fuck. “It’s a long answer.” 

“I never said it couldn’t be.”

He doesn’t move to grab the Betadine at all, instead waiting for you to talk. 

You purse your lips and think for another moment before finally talking again, “I was feeling really guilty and tense, and I guess it just got too much, so I just kind of… had to. Like I felt like I was gonna fuckin’… I dunno, have a nervous breakdown or something. And honestly, it’s a really stupid reason, because the thing that I’m feeling guilty about happened like a week ago, but still—I’ve been feeling really guilty about it. It—It’s not like I can’t stop, if I tried I could, I swe—swear, and I just— it’s been really easy to just— you know? I— honestly, it’s not that big of a deal—” 

“Hey, hey—” Price brings a hand to your shoulder and softens his voice, “It’s okay. I understand.” 

“I ju—st… I’m sorry, I—” 

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Price reassures you, quickly bringing that same hand up to cup your jaw, “You’re okay. You don’t have to say sorry.” 

“But I—” 

“Shh.” You hadn’t even noticed how frantic your breathing had gotten during your small word vomit. And to just make things worse, there’d been tears gathering at your water line, well on their way to spilling over and creating tear tracks down your cheeks. 

You can’t help but let go of all the tension in your shoulders the moment Price starts gently rubbing his thumb back and forth over your cheek. The moment he does that, it’s practically game over for you. 

Those tears spill out from the corners of your eyes and you can already feel your next breath get caught in your throat, leaving you to just let Price gently guide your head to lean forwards against his chest, letting out small hiccups and trying desperately to hold back the sobs you want to let out.

It all happened so fast, you don’t even know how you got here. One moment you were doing a good job of somewhat keeping your guard up, the next your resolve was crumbled completely by the gentle and oddly caring touch of Price’s hand.

Suddenly, there’s a knock at the door, then someone walks in while you’re burying your head further into Price’s chest—Ghost. You can tell it’s him by the way he walks. He has long strides, he never drags his feet, and the moment he slides the curtains to the side to see you, his footsteps stop. They start up again a moment later, and he sits by your side, opposite of where Price is sitting—to your right instead of your left. 

Gaz must’ve let him in while he was looking for the stapler, You think, sniffling against Price’s chest. Normally, you would’ve felt some sort of shame by now, but given the current situation, you didn’t find much room to give a shit. 

You feel Price’s head move up slightly, and judging by the way he occasionally nods and sometimes moves his hands a bit, you can only assume that he’s having some sort of nonverbal conversation with Ghost right now. This conversation goes on for about a few minutes longer before you’ve managed to control your breathing a bit more. 

Price can tell, and he asks just for confirmation, “Is it alright if I clean your cuts now?” 

You nod and sniffle once before taking your head off of Price’s chest, looking down at your lap, simply holding out one of your blood-crusted arms to him. You can see Ghost stiffen up behind you almost immediately at the sight of it. 

Price grabs a cotton pad from the jar he was handed earlier, as well as the bottle of iodopovidone, and soaks the cotton pad with said iodopovidone. Once it’s soaked with the antiseptic solution, he hesitates before pressing it to your bloody arms. 

Almost immediately, you inhale a sharp breath and feel tears stinging your eyes again. 

“It’s okay,” Price tries to calm you down, seeing the tears forming in your eyes again, “You’re okay.” 

You sniffle and shift on the bed, trying to blink away tears that threaten to spill over your water line. Ghost, sitting by your side, puts a gloved hand over your shoulder, his thumb rubbing gentle circles into your shoulder. His eyes twitch as you bite the inside of your cheek to muffle another sob while Price presses another Betadine-infused cotton pad to your self-induced wounds, and although you can barely see him, out of the corner of your eye, you still catch the glint of new tears gathering at the corners of his eyes as he watches you. 

Gaz slips back through the curtains in front of the bed, this time with Soap in tow, and hands a skin stapler to Price. Seeing the skin stapler, something you used fairly often—often enough that the others knew how it worked and how to use it—automatically made your stomach turn.

“Told ye I’d come back for ye,” Soap murmurs, kneeling down to get about eye-level with you. You huff out the smallest laugh at his words and he gives you a small smile that makes you want to go lock yourself in a room with a scalpel and repeat what you’d done earlier all over again, his empathetic expression paining you more than taking a blade to your arm.

As a matter of fact, the expressions that you wish were pity coming from everyone around you hurts more than anything you could’ve ever done to yourself. Their concern was so unexpected—not that you don’t think they care, but you never thought they cared this much. You didn’t think that, if caught in the act, you would receive empathetic looks and solemn smiles, rather thinking that you would receive reprimanding. That you’d be punished for punishing yourself. 

Price thanks Gaz silently with the curt nod of his head before turning back to you with a solemn expression that in all honesty makes you more guilty and disappointed with yourself than before. He holds the skin stapler like he would a hot glue gun, looking down at the open wounds in front of him, and holds your forearm closer to him so he can see the edges of the cuts better. 

"Keep your arm like that," He murmurs, to which you respond with a nod and stiffening your arm so that it stays in the air where Price positioned it. He uses his now free hand to gently pull the edges of the cut you'd made closer together, aligning them the best he can before pressing the metal staple dispenser to the cut and pushing down on the trigger, stapling the two edges together with a click. 

He holds it down for an extra second before releasing and pulling the stapler away from your skin, and although the process only took around three seconds, you'd never get used to the feeling of getting your skin stapled. You make a small, pained noise that has Soap wincing as well--as though he can feel it too--and Price looking more solemn than earlier. 

“Finished with this one,” Price mutters as you swallow down another sob, holding his calloused-but-soft hand out for you to put your other forearm in. You do just that, nearly breaking into a fit of new sobs at the small ‘thank you’ Price utters. 

You watch Price soak another cotton pad with iodopovidone with his free hand and suck in a deep breath as he presses it to your forearm, the originally white cotton pad almost immediately going red. Tears spill over your waterline and roll down your cheeks as he continues to clean and disinfect your wounds, and before you can move your free hand to wipe them away, Ghost does so for you, his rough gloved hand swiping below your eyes quickly. 

You mumble a small 'thank you' that's barely even audible, sniffling as you can’t help but lean forward the tiniest bit into Ghost’s hand as it lingers on your cheek. He pauses, keeping it there for a second, before bringing that same hand up to the crown of your head and pushing gently on it to urge you to lean your head back. You do so, the back of your head quickly making contact with his Adam’s apple and the top of your head becoming tucked underneath his chin. 

His hand goes back down to your shoulder and continues its ministrations of rubbing small circles into said shoulder, bringing you intermittent moments of comfort throughout the painful wound cleaning you had to endure. 

Soap keeps a comforting hand on your knee as he’s kneeled down in front of you, his thumb occasionally copying Ghost’s, but otherwise remaining still on your knee, careful not to force you through too many different sensations at once. 

Gaz watches you from by the curtain, seeming not to do and looking completely lost. He stands there for another moment, watching the others, seeing what they’re doing for a second, before giving Ghost a ‘one moment’ signal by holding up his index finger and stepping out of the curtain-surrounded area.

Right after he does, another painful sting shoots up your nerves from your forearm, and you make the mistake of looking down at it. 

Wounds that only fifteen minutes ago had brought you to a calmer state of mind and were nothing more than incisions made by the scalpel you’d used to cut other people for entirely different reasons now almost hurt to look at. Once you could’ve compared them to marks left by wild animals, and you could’ve described them as though they were trophies, but now, as you stare down at them being cleaned by your own captain, they look nothing like the sort. 

They don’t look like any of the pretty descriptions you’d given them. They don’t look like cat scratches you’d gotten in an accident, or like something you would get out of a fight with a bear—they don’t make you look strong and brave like you thought they did. 

They look like tally marks. Sanguineous, gruesome tally marks, made by you, like you’d been counting down the days—or seconds, minutes, hours—until you’d had enough. Until you’d had enough of just carving your skin with medical equipment, and needed something more. Craved something more. 

Price must notice you staring down at the wounds, because he pauses in his movements to clean them for a moment, the sudden stopping of the stinging sensation the iodopovidone-soaked cotton making you shiver. You look up at him, and see him already looking down at you, concerned. 

“You’re thinking about something,” He points out softly, “Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours.” 

You hesitate and look back down at your arm that Price had stopped cleaning, before mumbling, “Just thinking about how these are gonna scar.” It’s not entirely a lie, but not entirely the truth either. 

Price tilts his head to the side a bit, questioningly, “Do you know how they’re gonna scar?” 

“Well, when you work in the medical field for a bit, it gets easier to tell.”

You can tell he wants to ask how they’re gonna scar, so you decide to just say, “They’re all about one-and-a-half to two inches deep, so they’ll heal fully and then scar in a few months. Once they do, they’ll be visible, but not too prominent. The scarring tissue will stick above the skin a little bit, and it’ll make it look a little bit puffy.” 

“Alright,” Price hums, tone neutral, “So they’ll be… visible.” 

He sounds disgusted, A voice in the forefront of your mind insists, while one from the back of your mind tries to tell you, You have no way of knowing that, just see where the conversation goes. He has no reason to be disgusted with you.

“Yeah.” 

“Okay then,” Price sets the cotton pad down and grabs the skin stapler he’d been using earlier, “And it’ll take a few months to heal, you said?” 

“Several months, yeah.” Price considers this for a moment, pausing in his movements to hold the stapler to your skin. 

“Do you think you’ll need any help re-wrapping the bandages while they heal?” He inquires, resuming his movements after asking the question. 

“…” You think for a moment, Will you?, and after a few seconds, hesitantly, you reply, “… Yeah.” 

“M’kay,” Price hums softly, neutrally. “And would you want me to be the one who does it?” 

You think for another few minutes. Preferably, you’d be doing them yourself, but you didn’t trust yourself enough for that—so getting one of them to do it for you is your next best option. You wouldn’t mind if it was Price doing it, but at the same time, you wouldn’t mind if Ghost, Gaz, or Soap did it either. 

“It doesn’t matter,” You settle on, before tacking on, “As long as it’s one of you four.” 

“Us ‘four’ being… ?” 

“You, Soap, Ghost, and Gaz.” 

“Got it,” Price nods. You see Soap smile softly out of the corner of your eye before he quickly stops, trying to purse his lips into a line. He’s probably thinking that he shouldn’t be happy about that, You think, almost amused. You feel Ghost’s thumb stutter on your shoulder as well, before it starts back up normally. 

Your words affect them more than you thought they would. 

Breaking your train of thought, Price staples your skin with a muted click, making you wince. 

It’s silent for a few more moments before Gaz finally comes back, now out of breath and carrying a bar of chocolate. He hands you the chocolate bar and says, panting, “I almost had to spar someone for that. Why do you have to like the chocolate one of the other fuckin’ Lieutenants do?” 

You take the chocolate bar with your free hand gingerly and blink at it for a few moments before setting it down next to you. 

“Nobody told you to get it,” You shrug, before tacking on, “Thank you, though.” 

“Uh-huh, yeah, totally, hey so uh—” He looks at Soap and jabs his thumb towards where the door would be behind the curtains, “We’re both needed somewhere else. Again. They said they forgot something… again.” 

“Worst fucking timing ever,” Soap grumbles, before clearing his throat and standing up, looking down at you, “Right, I’ll check in on ye later, and help ye wi’ anything ye need me tae, aye? I’ll come wi’ mair chocolate than Gaz did, ‘cause I’m better than him.” 

“Got it,” You smile up at him, making him grin back and pat you on the shoulder Ghost’s hand isn’t occupying, before heading out with Gaz. 

Then, you’re left with Ghost and Price. 

“I should get going too,” Ghost mutters, slowly taking his hand off of your shoulder and gently pushing your head back off of his chest, almost regrettably. 

“M’kay,” You watch as he gets up and hesitates, looking like he’s about to give you a hug, before he decides to instead give you a simple head nod and head out the same way the two other operators did. 

And then, it was just you and Price.

It’s silent for a bit, until Price speaks up.

“You think a lot,” Price comments, finishing up the last staple. 

“Does that surprise you?” 

“A little bit, yeah.” 

You pause for a moment before sighing through your nose, “It’s nothing. Just the same stuff I was thinking about before.” 

“Wanna give me some more detail than that?” 

“Not really, no,” You admit, letting your hand fall into your lap as Price lets go of it, “But I have a feeling you’re gonna want me to tell you.” 

“I do.” 

“It’s just something stupid, like earlier—” 

“That wasn’t stupid, [c/n], that was you hurting.” 

“I— I know. It’s just that this is actually stupid.” 

“Well, tell me what it is, and I’ll be the judge of that.” 

You think about how to phrase it in simple terms for a moment, before finally speaking, “I used to think that the scars sort of… symbolized how I was able to control myself and my emotions, and that made me feel…” You can’t think of any synonyms to make the simple words you want to say sound less childish, so you’re forced to say, “… brave. And strong. I just— I thought it showed that I was good at controlling my emotions and stuff, for some reason. But now I’m questioning all of that.” 

“You’re very brave,” Price reassures you, and God, it sounds like he’s reassuring a child, “And you’re so strong. But this… this isn’t how you show that. This—cutting yourself—doesn’t make you either of those things. It doesn’t show that you’re either of those things. It shows that you need help.” 

“But you just said that I was strong.” 

“I did.” 

“… Aren’t you contradicting yourself?”

“How would I be contradicting myself?” Price asks. 

“You said that me— me… harming myself shows that I need help.” 

“It does,” Price hums, and at your confused expression, he continues, “You needing help doesn’t mean you aren’t strong. Needing help and being strong aren’t connected like that.” 

You open your mouth to argue but you close it, not knowing what to say. Price sees this and smiles knowingly, simply grabbing your hand to squeeze it once before getting up. 

“I’ll check in on you later, okay? I need to get some stuff done, but as soon as I can, I’ll be back to keep you company. Or I’ll send someone else over—whichever you prefer.” 

“M’kay,” You mumble, squeezing Price’s hand back before letting go. “You can do whatever. I don’t mind either one.” 

“Sounds good.” Price pauses for a moment before leaning down and giving you a quick hug, and then beginning to slip past the curtains blocking any outsider's view of the bed you were sat on.

Before he can leave, you quickly say, "Thank you. For the wound-cleaning-thing."

He pauses at the curtain for a second, before smiling and replying, "You're welcome."

for those curious, the bthb card so far:

[sundrop-writes]

Your First Kiss With Gar Logan

Gar Logan x Gender Neutral Reader

Summary:

While the Titans are living in Gotham, things are spiralling out of control. You take a moment to comfort Gar and help him with an unexpected injury, and the two of you find those inevitable feelings coming to the surface.

Gar Logan x Gender Neutral Reader. Friends to Lovers. Fluff. Set during Season 3, Episode 4.

Word Count: 2,700

DC Titans Masterlist | AO3 Link

Detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: this is general fluff; set during the episode where Kory accidentally burns Gar due to her visions/waking nightmares; descriptions of Gar having a burn wound on his arm; descriptions of first aid and wound care; the reader attends to the wound because they have first aid experience; the reader used to be a ward of Doctor Caulder (not blood related to him); mention of the reader being an orphan (as everyone in the presence of DC comics lore is); the reader is gender neutral (the main pronouns used are you/yours and there are no gendered aspects to the character); mentions of Gar's past trauma; extreme mutual pining; slight angst with a fluffy ending; I believe that's it.

A/N: This is part of something I am calling the 'first kiss' series - a series that depicts that a first kiss would be like with each of the Titans characters. For context, I am not necessarily writing this as a situation where the reader has never been kissed before and this is their first ever kiss - I am writing this as a situation where this is what your first kiss in the relationship would be like. The kiss that sparks that shift from friendship into romance. (In some of the other scenarios, I might spice it up and do enemies into lovers lmao.) I just think this is gonna be fun because most of the fics I write are based around smut, where kissing is not really the focus, so I wanted to change the pace of what I'm writing and make that big dramatic kissing moment - like you get in romcoms. I hope to do one of these fics for each of the characters, and some requested Dick, so that's probably the one that I'll do next. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy!

...

A sound of pain caught your attention. 

You had been walking down one of the many winding hallways of Wayne Manor, and any thoughts about what you had previously been doing left your mind the moment you heard it. You wondered what was wrong and who was hurting. 

The family had been through enough in the past few days. Nobody in the household needed any more pain. Certainly not from your perspective. 

A wince - a gasp. Breath hissing through teeth. Distinctly, it was the sound of someone recoiling in pain. 

You followed the sound closely and traced it to an open door. There was a streak of light coming from one of the many large, expensive bathrooms that the Manor had. Through that gap, you saw a flash of green - a green shirt, green hair. It took you only a moment to figure out who it was. 

“Dammit.” Gar swore. 

He was struggling with something. Your insides immediately flooded with concern knowing this. Whatever it was, you would try your best to help him. He was your best friend, after all, and you would never abandon him during a time of need. If the problem was minuscule or catastrophic, you would be there to help him with it. 

“Are you okay?” You asked, reaching out to push the bathroom door open further. 

You likely already knew the answer, but you couldn’t help the instinctive question as it escaped your mouth. 

As the door drifted open at your touch, Gar’s eyes snapped over to you. 

He was standing at the sink with one of the long sleeves of his shirt rolled up. Your eyes were instantly drawn to the center of his forearm - you winced yourself when you saw a very nasty burn there. He had a first aid kit open beside the sink with bits of it strewn across the counter, and he was dabbling a piece of cotton on the burn. 

So that had been the source of his painful noises. 

“I - I’m fine.” Gar quickly lied. 

He reached out with his uninjured arm in a poor attempt to close the door on you. You sighed, pushing back against him. In a very Gar fashion, he didn’t fight against you as you pushed your way into the bathroom and closed the door completely behind you, sealing both of you into the privacy of the space. 

He knew that you were definitely more stubborn than he was, and it would just be easier to let you help him than to fight against your stubborn will. It was something he had learned a long time ago. The position of being your friend came with forceful caring. It was one of the things that he loved most about you. 

“Come on, Gar.” You sighed, your voice ripe with gentle pity. “You should know that you don’t have to lie to me. What happened?” 

Gar wanted to explain that he hadn’t told you a lie, that he was fine, but that died off in his throat. Again - you were stubborn. That would have turned into an entire argument. 

You gently took his wrist in hand, lifting his arm slightly to inspect the burn closer. 

He knew that you had some medical experience. From what he had seen, you were really skilled, and quite intelligent in the field of medicine, even though you hadn’t done any formal study to become a doctor. 

You had worked with Doctor Caulder for years, had been his assistant since you were a young child. He had taken you on as a ward when you were orphaned, and very early on, he started teaching you ‘his craft’. It’s how you and Gar had met. You had been there, helping to take care of him and overseeing him after Caulder had injected him with the serum. Your face was one of the first kind faces he knew during the fever induced delirium, having the serum pumping through his veins and painfully rearranging his DNA from the inside out. 

You were one of the only people who wasn’t afraid of the Tiger because of it. Even after the horrors that Cadmus had put him through - you were never afraid of him. You always saw him as the scared, shivering boy from the hospital bed. Someone who just needed your help, a hand to hold. And you had always been there, holding your hand out to him since then. Through the good and the bad, through the times when he had been scared and uncertain. 

Of course, it was only natural that he had developed certain… feelings for you. 

And of course, he was always terrified to voice those feelings. He was terrified to lose you. As a friend, as the strong person he could lean on. 

Even now, as you once again took his hand and nursed him back to health - he felt his heart fluttering in his chest, and he was terrified to lose you as a friend because of it. 

Gar tried to distract himself from those dangerous feelings by answering your question. 

“Well, what happened was…” He began, but then quickly trailed off. “I was in the kitchen, and Kory came in. But she - she wasn’t in her right mind, her eyes were all weird again, and..” 

The more words he said, the worse it sounded. He had a large burn on his arm and Kory was well known for her fiery powers. It didn’t take much brain power to put it together. 

You looked up at him with deep concern dancing in your eyes, and he scrambled to find the right words. He knew that any way he explained it, it wouldn’t sound good. He rushed to make an excuse for his friend. Someone you both loved that he had far more sympathy for in this situation. 

“Kory - see - she - Kory’s been having a really hard time lately.” Gar tripped over his own words to explain it. “It - it was an accident.” 

“She accidentally gave you a second degree burn?” You posed, feeding the words back to Gar in the hopes that it would make him realize just how ridiculous it sounded. 

Your tone was clearly scolding, an underlying anger in your voice directed at Kory for hurting your best friend. 

Gar sighed. He knew it was likely a rhetorical question, but he still was struggling for an answer. He didn’t come up with one before you spoke again. 

“Take this off.” You told him, motioning toward his shirt. “I’ll bandage this up for you.” 

Gar did as you said, wincing again when the sleeve of his shirt grazed against the fresh wound. He dropped it to the bathroom floor without much thought. You tried not to let your eyes linger on his bare torso - a gorgeous sight - as you moved to grab a pair of tweezers from the first aid kit. You had noticed that bits of cloth from his shirt had been singed onto the wound. That needed to be taken care of first. 

“I’m not mad.” Gar said suddenly. “I’m not mad at Kory.” 

That didn’t surprise you. He was never the type of person to hold grudges. You had only seen him get angry a handful of times. You had only seen him truly hold rage in his heart when Doctor Caulder had attempted to hold Rachel against her will. 

“Why not?” You asked. 

You moved him where you wanted him, and he was easily pliant to you, trusting your experience. You trapped his hand between the side of your body and your own arm so that he wouldn’t move or squirm, pinning him there. You held the elbow of his injured arm in the palm of your hand to hopefully keep him in place. You grabbed the tweezers with your other hand and then got to work. 

“I’m worr-” 

He let out a sharp gasp when you plucked off the first piece of singed cloth. You felt him flinch against your hold as you tossed the piece of cloth into the sink. But he didn’t protest. He knew whatever you were doing was something that you deemed necessary. You were helping him, and he wouldn’t fight you on that. 

“I’m worried about Kory.” Gar finished his statement firmly. 

“You’re worried about Kory?” You raised your brows at him, your eyes lingering on his face for a moment before you went back to work. 

Gar often worried about everyone else. 

He had been worrying himself to death about Jason, trying to ‘save’ someone that likely couldn’t be saved since he had magically come back from the dead. He was worried about Dick taking on the pressures of Batman now that Bruce was suddenly absent. He had been worried about Dawn and Hank’s arguing, knowing that Hank had come to Gotham just to win her back. You knew that Gar was worried about everyone, hoping that the pieces of the family would just fall into place and everyone would be happy again. (When they had last been happy, you weren’t quite sure.) 

You were likely the only person who worried about Gar in return. 

“Who’s worried about you?” You mumbled quietly. 

You plucked out another piece of the burnt cloth, and Gar bit his lip to keep from crying out with pain. 

“There’s nothing going on with me.” He told you, shooting you one of his glowing smiles. “I’m fine. I don’t need anyone to worry about me.” 

You knew that even if he didn’t take this injury into account, this was a lie. 

The toll of being such an empathetic person was never one that he voiced. The pure pressure of everyone else’s emotions piling onto him, the worry of what was going to happen to his friends. That, on top of his own troubles - nightmares of his time at Cadmus still haunting him, feeling inadequate because he couldn’t use his powers to the fullest extent, missing two of his dear friends with the absences of Jason and Rachel. 

You knew that Gar wasn’t ‘fine’. You knew that he had a lot troubling him. It was just easier for him to smile and pretend everything was okay. Because that made him feel okay. It helped him carry on. 

And a lot of the time, his sunshiney smile was the entire reason you got out of bed at all. 

However, rather than telling him this, you drove home your point in an entirely different way. 

“Ironic.” You huffed out, picking out the last piece of the cloth that had stuck to the edge of the wound. 

Gar hissed in pain. 

“Yeah, yeah, okay.” Gar finally folded. 

Right now, he did need someone worrying about him. That much he could admit. 

You reached over and grabbed an anti-bacterial cream from the first aid kit. 

You were glad that you would be there to change the bandage and monitor the healing of the wound, because it was likely a lot worse - a lot more painful than he was letting on. You were worried about what kind of mental state Kory had been in that caused her to attack him, even if it had been an accident. You had seen her ‘sleep walking’, or whatever you would call it. You wondered what caused it. You wondered if it was the general stress that all the Titans were under right now. But Gar’s wellbeing was your primary concern. 

“You know you can come to me for stuff like this, right?” You told him, your voice edging on scolding as you applied the cream with a q-tip and he gritted his teeth through the pain once again. “Don’t let all that child slave labor that Caulder put me through go to waste.” 

Gar let out a chuckle at this - a dry, sarcastic sound. It was a tone that told you that while he did find your commentary amusing, he still resented your former shared ‘mentor’ for all the things he had put both of you through. 

“You know I can handle myself.” Gar told you, still slightly resistant to your caring. “Someone needs to be strong.” 

It was a dangerous double meaning. He thought that he had to be the singular strong pillar of the household. He thought that he had to be the one person in the family who didn’t fold to his emotions and let any cracks show through. 

“Let them handle themselves once in a while.” You told him pointedly as you began to wrap a bandage around his forearm. “You don’t need to be some brick wall for everyone to lean on.” 

“But-” Gar said quietly. 

“But nothing.” You cut him off. 

When you dared to look up at his face, you saw those wide puppy eyes staring back at you. His beautiful brown pupils were shining with guilt. He didn’t need to voice it for you to know that he felt like it was his responsibility to take care of everyone else. They often didn’t take care of themselves properly. If he didn’t at least try, then who else would? 

“I know this might be a newsflash for you, especially because you have that golden, shining hero heart in your chest…” You explained, reaching up and running one of your fingers across the skin of his muscled pec, motioning toward that beautiful heart inside in his chest. 

With him not wearing a shirt, the skin to skin contact was oddly intimate, causing tingles to radiate out from that point that you knew he could feel too. You became temporarily distracted from your words, and forced yourself to clear your throat and remember what you were saying. 

“But you can’t save everyone.” You continued. You distracted yourself from the tension in the air by tying the bandage onto itself to secure it around his arm. “Sometimes they do need to save themselves.” 

Gar let out a quiet huff. Internally, he had finally folded to the fact that you were right. 

“I hate it when you’re right.” He said quietly. 

“You must hate me a lot.” You replied, laughter dancing in your words as you cleverly turned the sentence around on him. 

Gar’s face broke into an easy, natural smile at this. You were too clever. 

He felt that inevitable warmth swell up inside of him again. The affectionate fondness for you that he always felt bubbling just under the surface. 

When he looked up and locked eyes with you once again, sitting in the quiet moment - a rare moment of peace stolen away from the seemingly never-ending chaos that being a part of the Titans family was - he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t hold back his feelings for you anymore. 

You felt the magnetism swell in the air, and when Gar reached out, gently gripping the side of your neck, right underneath your ear - you let yourself be taken by it. It had been coming for years, and you easily let yourself succumb to it. You let your eyes fall closed and you drifted into him like a boat drifting at sea, falling into the current that he always provided for you. 

The kiss was inevitable, and somehow - perfect. 

He was gentle, not forcing his way into your space or presuming anything of you, but falling into the natural rhythm of the attraction as you pressed your mouth against his. His lips were a sweet, soft sanctuary - so much better than you had dreamed of. The touch was so beautifully tender that you felt tingles radiating through you, a high you had never experienced before. You let out a delighted sigh as the kiss pulled at the strings deep in your soul. 

After a moment, you pulled back slightly, your forehead gently pressed against his. 

“Y/N,” Gar murmured your name quietly. 

There were so many things he wanted to say to you. 

To tell you that he loved you - as more than a friend. That he always had. To tell you that he was thankful for you, that you were the stitching that held together the very fabric of his life. 

But then-

“Gar!” Kory’s voice came shouting down the hallway. “Gar, look, I’m sorry! Where are you? Please, can you just let me apologize?” 

Of course. More family chaos. Not a moment alone. Well, no more than one moment. 

“You should find a shirt.” You told Gar, giving him a playful grin and tapping him lightly on his bare shoulder. 

Gar sighed, and nodded. And hesitantly, he broke away from you in order to go and do that. 

Eventually, he would tell you those things. He would find the right time, the right way to put it all into words. But for now, even if it was unspoken, you knew.

...

If you enjoyed this fic, check out my DC Titans Masterlist for more of my other fics!! And please consider reblogging and commenting on this fic to tell me what you liked about it.

[ominus-potato]

Hi, just wanted some advice about fanfics on ao3, how do you write them? and how can I make my one shot fic impactful for the readers. I'm planning on making a fic but since it's my first time making I kinda don't know where to start.. It's fine if you don't know though! just thought of asking cause you're writing's really good imo.

Sneak peak of the next part of the Pining Mario series at the end!

Well when I write, I don’t do it on AO3. I draft my work on Wattpad and then cross-post it to AO3. This is because AO3 is a bit more complicated, can be dodgy with saving works and only work when I have Wi-Fi. With Wattpad, I can write offline which is very helpful. Some people also draft on google docs so there’s that as well.

In terms of ACTUAL writing, there are two ways to leave an impression on the reader. There’s the way liked with angst, pain and maybe a bit of comfort; and there’s the way of making a story so sickeningly sweet that the reader is gushing over every cute moment. The length of the story also plays a factor. If it’s under 4000 I’d recommend avoiding angst bc you don’t have much time to set it up and at it off effectively.

Personally, I pretty much never write angst unless I genuinely believe it’ll make a story better. I’ve read fics before where the author will just throw in a shit ton of angst for no reason other than to make the reader feel bad for the mc and it just feels really cheap. It’s hard to do angst right and it’s really tempting to just give everyone a super fucked up backstory and make them depressed or something but imo it’s just overdone to the point of exhaustion. It can make a story depressing and no longer a fun read.

Whenever I write angst, it’s a small part of a mostly fluff-filled story. Take the pining Mario series for example. 19,000 words of silly pining hyjinx with a few small drops of angst. Then have the angst bubble over a little in Shots and Cowboys, Mario has a small breakdown since we’ve been keeping up with the story from his perspective mostly. That then allows me to forward the story and give character a new motivation.

If youre going to use angst to get an emotional reaction, you MUST have good set up and pay off. Especially if it’s a longer story. Also, you don’t have to do this, but I’d recommend against adding angst unless it’s necessary. Don’t just throw it in there Willy nilly yk?

If you wanna know how I do my stories, I really enjoy making them sweet and adorable with a little bit of drama and comedy. Like “Love is not a foreign language” where it’s just Mario and Mr Puzzles being adorable as hell for 6000 words. Then the drama comes when Puzzles reveals he can understand Mario and that only leads to more cutesy love.

A lot of it comes down to the story you’re trying to tell and how you want your reader to react. When I write a story, I want my readers to be invested in the drama and rising tensions, enjoying the little spurts of comedy here and there and ultimately, finding the main ship really cute in the end. I try to make people happy with my work bc I write the kinda stuff I would love to read! Because if I would read it, someone else definitely would.

Also, I feel like I must add that I have only ever written ship stories. If you wanted advice on stories in general with no shipping then I wouldn’t really know how to advise you on that. I love relationships between characters. Whether it’s ships or friendships. It’s my favourite part of any fandom so it’s where I specialise in my work.

Sorry I don’t really have like a plan or anything. I just keep it all in my head, know a few plot points I want to hit, and write to them. I try to get around 3-5 plot points for my longer stories and then just 1 or maybe 2 for the shorter ones. I sometimes add them as I go if I think it’ll make the story better!

For example, my plot points in Shots and Cowboys were:

•Mario tries to buy Puzzles a drink

•Mario and Mr Puzzles are interrupted by Wren and Mario is jealous

•Mario and Wren do something to fight for Puzzles’ affection (IE, play pool)

•Mario looses Puzzles to Wren, sees them kiss and is devastated.

•Mr Puzzles thinks that Mario is heartbroken over SMG4 and promises to help him move on.

Then if I get any smaller points like certain ships, lines, dynamics or interactions I wanna add I just sprinkle them in where I can.

I don’t really have much advice outside of that. I tend to just think of a scene or an idea I’d love to write and then more ideas pop up around it. It’s just one major point that gets built around. IE, Mario being jealous was the premise of SAC purely just because there were a few jealous Puzzles stories and I wanted to see if I could switch the dynamic.

Sorry for the long wall of text. I just wanna make sure it’s detailed enough for you. Just make it up as you go along and write what you wanna read. I re-read my stuff all the time because I genuinely enjoy what I write and it gives me exactly what I want. Have fun with it!

And if you’re worried about it being terrible, I’d advise you to read my old Lego Ninjago fanfiction that I wrote when I was 13. My god it was awful. But it shows development!

First story:

Latest story:

Enjoy that sneak peak of the next part of the Pining Mario series :D

[slocumjoe]

I was wondering if you had any recommendations of fo4 fanfictions/writers you enjoy the work of?

You know, this actually is a point I've wanted to talk about in general, but never really had a reason to. The thing is, I don't like fallout 4 fanfic. I tried once and decided it was just not my content of choice.

Fallout 4 has a pretty sizable fic issue of, "Every single world is different." This is true of almost all stories where the protagonist is very easily...interchangeable. If you can make your character, chances are, they have their own looks, decisions, choices, opinions, backstories, quirks, relationships, et cetera. It is a whole new character that the world turns around, every single time.

So, the first issue here, is that it takes away from the benefit of fanfic being a story you don't have to get invested in. You know the characters and their deals, let's rock and roll. But with a new Addition, the author has to sell you on them, often quickly. However, you will have your own character that you've put into this world, and I personally prefer looking at my guy than others. People tend to not like (not hate, just not prefer) ships with certain pairings, right? So, if I invest a lot of brain power thinking about Danse and Augustijn, if I open a Sole X Danse fic, and I see Danse macking on a Sole who isn't...who Sole is to me, it's a large adjustment, especially if I'm not sold on the other Sole as their own character.

Another thing I tend to dislike is fics set in the perspective of Sole, rather than the other characters. I know the other characters already, and I'd prefer to spend time with them, than get invested in the new guy, as I said before. But people set the POV as sole to help speed along the whole selling thing.

So, few technical things, but when I did sample fallout 4 fanfic, the actual content I saw was just...so not for me.

Fallout 4 fanfic, last I checked, is;

Cute college aged white girl with Danse/Maxson/Both of them

Cute college aged white girl with Nick

Cute college aged white girl with Hancock

Cute College aged white girl with Deacon

Cute College aged white girl with MacCready

Cute college aged white girl with...deathclaws?

I find that many Soles tend to be supermodels with fairly shallow characterization, because they're self-inserts. They're just there to look good up against whichever white dude the author has the hots for. That's fine, we don't shame, it's just...I don't like it. Again, I like the characters I know, and in those types of fics, the characterization of the Male Companions tends to veer hard left into "wow this supermodel lady is so hot and cute and she's so sad I have to save her." It's just tedious for me.

Last I tried fo4 fanfic, it was...2018, 2019, I think, so things could have changed. But if I go to the top rated fics on ao3, the first page is just smut "The Vault Girl has a sweet ass/was maybe a pin up model, and oh no, (insert man) jerks off to her every single night!" It just makes me roll my eyes.

I could recommend content creators but chances are, you're following them already. In terms of fic...all I got for you is rad-roche's Unmade Man series. Required reading for this blog.

Not meaning to yuck anyone's yum, it's just that your yum is my yuck.

I used to write fanfic for fallout 4, if anyone remembers My Hope And My Fear Is Human Interaction. Initially titled Strawberry Donuts Of War. I took it down like an idiot because my own mental health was going right down the shitter, and trying to write that story and verbalize my own shit was kinda triggering. Fond memories, though. I also wrote three Danse x Sole fics, and took them down for "This is making me cringe" reasons.

Maybe one day.

[faksyan]

BBKaz fic recs *where Big Boss isnt abusive (or overtly)*? :3 While many BBkaz fics are good they also portray Kaz as accepting Big Boss abusing him. There are fics where hes clearly verbally or physically abusive to Kaz and i just CANT imagine Kaz like that. A lot of people make him the submissive bf because hes flamboyant which ?? this is the guy willing to die to take some men out? the guy who ambushed Snake after being captured?? the guy who trained soldiers in afghanistan??? Kaz isnt some defenseless baby UwU the man and Big Boss were on equal foot back in MSF, and Kaz was just as much of a manipulative bastard. HELL id say he was the one who pushed for Big Boss darker tendencies sorry for the rant :3 but Kaz being thrown around is so OOC it takes me out. Its just not who he is

YES thank you for the rant?? I. yeah I get that. that kind of interpretation is not something I can understand with how I view Kaz at all. Of course what they had wasn't what we'd call healthy, but the way it's portrayed sometimes just doesn't feel right. We're talking Kaz, the person who's been burning with anger and hatred since the day he was born and who still described Snake as his trusted partner and friend for years.

Funnily enough, that's the same reason I can't ever see him being with BB after events of V, in any interpretation of the phrase. It's an interesting thing to explore, but he just wouldn't. if Kaz loves a person, he loves them, if he hates them, he hates. forever. no compromise. and then he dies.

I don't really have long fics that fit the criteria (that I know of), hope that's fine. With all that being said.

Short n sweet msf era fic one, two and three. Different authors, but I think they go together well.

The formatting is a bit weird on this, but maybe it's just mobile, it's great either way. They're clueless and pining.

Enjoyed how much this one focuses on Kaz's thoughts. It finds a really nice middle ground between not making them overly abusive while also showing how complicated their relationship is. This one also fits the description I think, but the atmosphere is a lot less tense.

Foxhound era transfem Kaz fic in first person, I know. People often don't like that. Still recommend it. Aside from having a headcanon I love, I really liked how it's written.

The one where they go to a gay bar for a mission. I mean really what more is there to say.

Probably not what you want, but for me it's right on that edge of how I can see a meeting between them going in the years after tpp. Let Kaz be angry about it, let him be protective of his new life that doesn't have bb in it, that's the good stuff.

The focus is not quite on bbkaz but it's exactly the kind of unnerving that I'm a fan of. Loved the writing here a lot.

This one kind of. does not fit the non-abusive description, and it's also in second person, but this is the first and I think only time I read a serious take on Big Boss's pov that felt RIGHT. It has so much interesting character exploration that I honestly can't not recommend it. Re-read one of my favorite paragraphs for this, and man, I have A LOT to say about this fic, but better just read it, really. Keep in mind that it's unfinished though, but it's been updated some time ago. If you do like this one, this author has another bbkaz fic that I enjoyed.

To be honest I haven't actually read that much bbkaz (as in I don't think I went through the whole tag which is "not that much" only arguably), but I hope there is at least something in here that you like! Thanks for the ask, this made me want to go finish the fic that I have haha.

[elialys]

hey. as a fellow writer from niche fandoms and unpopular ships, can i just say i really appreciate you being upfront about how much lack of engagement sucks. really thank you. especially because it comes from someone like you who has a fair amount of engagement, but you know what? you’re right being pissed. i know i am. i come from fandoms where people are constantly yapping about lack of content yet none of them engage w/ each other. i ended up leaving bc i felt like i was screaming to a wall. and you know what? i haven’t stopped writing, just posting. bc why bother? so yeah, i AM writing for myself, and also keeping it from myself. idc if that’s petty honestly, like no, it doesn’t make me feel any better if someone out there might end up liking it one day if they’re being completely silent about it. fandoms aren’t supposed to be one-sided. i’m fine w people not reading my stuff cause they don’t like it. you can straight up tell me you hate my ship and i will be like. cool 👍 but when people do read and like your stuff and yet never say anything, that’s something that i don’t like

anyway sorry for rambling, know that you’re much appreciated. i remember you from my doctor who days and i wish i were in your fandoms so i could keep reading your stuff. ❤️

For the longest time I didn’t say anything because I realize that in a lot of cases, I’ve had what you’d call great engagement, and I’ve always been so thankful for the love my stories have received throughout various fandoms. But the decline is STEEP these days, and I have the hindsight of having been writing/sharing fics online for two decades, so I have a lot of 'data' to compare these days’ numbers to.

That’s the thing that has always gotten to me. NUMBERS. Being so, so aware of how many people click on our fics, and how few of them actually engage with a comment. Even at my most “popular”, I didn’t get more than 5% of my readers interacting with me; it felt like a lot because I had a lot of readers, so it meant more comments, but it still was only 5%.

Like you said, it’s this knowing that people are reading, that they are coming back chapter after chapter, yet they don’t bother engaging with us, even when most of us basically BEG in author notes for them to comment and make us feel less like word spewing machines and more like creative members of their online community. What really got to me this last month was updating my fic for The Last of Us, a chapter that got 1,000 hits in two weeks, and I got 10 comments for it. I was just…how the fuck are 1,000 people reading and only 10 of them bothering? Especially since that fic had averaged 3 times that amount of comments for months on previous chapters.

Every time I get disheartened by the increasingly shitty reader engagement, I tell myself that’s it, I’m done writing fics. But then I always go back to it a few days later because I actually LOVE writing fics. Like, fuck yeah, I do write for myself and actually enjoy it for myself (in a love-hate kind of writing relationship obviously 🤣). I do it because I am in love with the characters I’m writing about, and fascinated by their dynamics and relationships, so it’s genuinely a THRILL, and my biggest passion.

But the abysmal engagement these days is just…it makes me feel like shit, there’s no other word for it. Because I spend so much time and energy on those stories (because I want to and I LOVE to write), but as a fic writer, there’s always this part of me that’s excited to be SHARING it with the fandom. Because twenty years of this have gotten me used to at least some decent interaction, and feeling like I'm part of a community. But then the hit count goes up and the comment count stays low or nearly empty, and it’s just gutting. People just consume, consume, consume.

Honestly, GOOD ON YOU for still writing while deciding not to share with your niche fandom at the moment. I’m thinking I might do the same with the rest of my Tess & Ellie AU, because I want to see it through and finish it for ME, but I’m done spoon-feeding an apathetic crowd. I’ll reach out to my most loyal readers and regular commenters when the day comes, and give them a way to read the rest of the story, might even just post the chapters straight on my blog here like I used to do, but not on AO3, not for a goooooood while.

Maybe it is petty, maybe I am just butt hurt. But fuck it, it does hurt my feelings, and I’m the one spending hours of my life writing those things, so I’ll do it my way. And I will continue to call readers out, and ask them to step up. We are human beings, not chatGPT, we just want some appreciation for sharing our art.

[damianbugs]

hi <3 since ive already obsessively reread your works i dont know how many times i think it's time for me to branch out and find some other batfam stuff too (im still a loyal reader tho dw bestie) i was wondering if you had any batfam authors you personally love and / or are inspired by! or maybe your top 5 batfam fics? if you don't mind sharing it ofc! thank u have a swag day and thank u for putting out such amazing amazing work into the world that offers me (personally) so much comfort :)

hello !! thank you so much for reading my works and i hope you will continue to enjoy them <3 i am so glad they bring you as much comfort reading as they do for me when writing !! and YES OF COURSE there is simply nothing i love more than recommending batfam fics that have me going absolutely crazy insane.

i previously did a top 5 batfam fic recs, and so here are my, uh, other top 5 batfam fics? everything is at the top of my list at this point.

+ these are in no particular order !!

MY TOP 5 BATFAM FICS (AGAIN) ON AO3 !

Cold Hard Want by AudreyCritter

“Are you happy?”

“I...I’m getting there.”

A follow-up to DC Rebirth Batman #35, in which Bruce recovers from being stabbed in the back and Damian considers the elusive nature of happiness.

MY NOTES: i might have read this fic a dozen times and everytime i do i am always so amazed by it. i have a soft spot for fics that move alongside actual comic canon, and so this was a lovely follow up to that original story (though you do not need to be familiar with it to enjoy this fic). damian is such a complicated character but at the end of the day, he is a child — and i think this handled his tumultuous relationship with bruce, dick and selina(!!) really well.

White Christmas by LemonadeGarden

Jason's been in the manor for a few months now. Bruce is a pretty cool guy, sure, but he's not exactly sure what to expect from him.

And then they go to Siberia in the winter on a case. It goes horribly wrong, and then pretty well.

MY NOTES: personally i think it is always the perfect time of year for a christmas fic that isn't actually about christmas. now, not only do all the best tropes meet in this fic (cuddling for warmth, sick fic, comfort after nightmares - to name a few) BUT this is also about robin jason todd. the little boy of all time. wonderful fic.

all the other rooms are a party tonight (and you never got an invitation) by irnan

(You will need an ao3 account to access this fic)!

The major difference between Gotham before Bruce left to set up Batman, Inc and Gotham after he comes back is that his children are grown-ups. Well, except for Damian.

Still, four out of five's an overwhelming majority.

MY NOTES: there is something so healing about this fic. bruce is rather pathetic (said fondly) in the way troubled middle aged men become when they finally realise their life is only in consequence of the people who exist around them. the dynamic between cass and bruce and dick and bruce in this is one of my favourites. the latter is very carefully weaved into the entire story, even when pertaining the other characters. a great take on bruce!

Have I Told You About Minnie? by Hinn_Raven

After you’ve known Matches Malone long enough, you get used to him telling you about his kids. Not that his kids know about it.

MY NOTES: oh this is such a fun one!! stephanie and bruce is such a wonderful dynamic and something about bruce creating an entirely new persona as a subconscious excuse to gloat about his children is just too funny. really sweet!

i want you to remember me by zxrysky

Bruce really needs to get rid of his saviour complex. Not all of them are the same as that poor boy who had to watch his parents get murdered in a dark alleyway; not all of them need to be saved.

Jason is perfectly fine where he is. Some capital would be great, but otherwise, he’s fine. He’s fine.

He doesn’t need to be saved again.

“No thanks,” Jason mutters, and pushes the papers away.

MY NOTES: this one hits you when you least expect it. it is so funny, so sweet and it hurts. jason todd you are so ridiculously complicated and tragic. also my favourite kind of time travel, kind-of-time-travel! little jason receives all of older jason's memories and his meeting with bruce and journey to robin is different, but some things are just destiny i suppose. so lovely.

as for inspirations or favourite authors, i have to say it might just be everyone i have ever read a fic from so i can not pick out anyone right now. the writers featured on this list are also phenomenal and some have written other amazing and loved batfam fics you should definitely check out!

hope you enjoy these anon and thank you again <3

[btwxsixesandsevens]

AUs

When I started writing fanfic, I was strongly against writing AUs. Now that I've finished my 3rd long form AU (each more than 20k words), I have apparently changed my mind. :-)

Some thoughts (YMMV).

Number 1 thing: Definitions. I struggle with the way fandom names things. All fanfic is an author universe. NONE of it happened in canon. That's the point. Often when people say "AU" what they're really talking about is the trope the author used as the framework of the story. Enemies to Lovers is a trope. One you use in your AU b/c everything is an AU. A fix-it fic is not an AU, b/c you're still IN UNIVERSE. Any continuation from canon, not an AU.

What I have settled on as my personal definition of an AU: An Author Universe story is one where none of the original setting parameters apply. Only the characters remain. You've grabbed them from the setting and taken them to a different version of the universe, with different starting conditions and different rules. Everything changes. Only the Characters remain.

Number 2 thing: The Characters remain. To really stick this one you have to know what is fundamental about the characters. These are actually usually a small number of very clear facts and personality traits. These are things like: core personality, primary profession, life defining friends/relationships. I'll use my fic as an example: Bucky Barnes: loyal. amputee veteran wounded in a war (with/without prosthesis). friend of Steve Rogers. Sarah Wilson: self-sufficient. adventurous but constrained by circumstance (money, children, etc.). widow'd or unintentionally single. These are things that if they change, you don't really have a Bucky or a Sarah. You have an OC named Bucky or Sarah. Which is fine, do you. But inventing OCs isn't the challenge I'm facing here. Taking existing characters and moving them into a new setting is. This again gets to why I don't like many AUs, they change the character so much that if they weren't named the same, you'd have NO IDEA who they were supposed to be.

Number 3 thing: The new setting has Rules. Rules that are different from the original setting. This is where the chosen new setting comes in. Historical time period. Modern setting. Fantasy. Space. Whatever. Even the dreaded Coffee Shop. Each has their own rules and cultural expectations. Research. Imagination. Dig deep, but be careful. It is easy to get lost in the details. Then you don't write the damn thing at all, or you spend so much time on spilling all this great info you learned about the French Revolution that even you get bored.

Number 4 thing: Put it together. This is the fun part. When you take the core characters and put them in this new setting, what happens? How does it change their outward behavior? Or does it? What does a loyal amputee vet do with himself in Imperial Rome? How is a Black widow with two sons navigating Gold Rush Alaska? When core character meetings setting, the vibes turn into plots turn into words.

Does all this mean I love AUs now? Not really. I'm picky. And you're all free spirits writing your own fics and ignoring my preferences. It does mean I see the challenge of it now and understand why folks who do it, enjoy it so much.

And it means I can put my finger on why I like the AUs I do like. So that's insightful.

It also means I may write more. Just need to set myself a proper challenge.

[medicallista]

So I made some realizations about Helio and Helidea and I'm not sure if I like them or what to do with them. So I'm dumping these thoughts and opinions here

I really did not like Helio and Helidea for a really long time. Like among the main five characters, Helio was my least favorite, and his relationship with Medea was my least favorite between any of the five.

My opinion of Helio was "just another case of shounen love interest syndrome". Basically the thing with het romances where the love interest sucks ass and the mc's friendship with another character of the same gender is honestly way more romantic and meaningful? Cuz heteronormativity and gender roles and misogyny (for male mcs) and blah blah. He spends most of his screen time being a Medea simp, being Medea's right-hand man/assistant/servant/dog?? We're given hints of his backstory but it felt like most of it was just to support the Medea simping. I found him really boring and bland compared to the other four main characters.

And his relationship with Medea? It's toxic, which was pretty obvious way before the story started spelling it outright in chapter 100+. The relationship was stalling his character development in favor of what... some mid one-sided romance? (See, shounen love interest syndrome) His entire character was just his devotion to Medea, and we barely see Medea give a fuck about him. I lost all respect for him at that one scene where he kissed Medea's foot and called her his god. Like, gurl get the fuck up??

However, I did recognize back then that Helidea actually had tropes that I really like if they were handled differently. Even more now, that my taste has changed a bit from when I was reading Your Throne back in 2020-2021. I'm a sucker for devotion and loyalty actually. I fucking love "I'd do anything for you, I'd die for you, I'd go to hell and back for you." Dependency and toxic relationships are actually things I'd sometimes enjoy. So there was an inkling of "maybe in a different world or handled differently" even back then.

I said I enjoyed those kind of relationship in fics because usually the ships/characters I like are the ones where I'd root for them to be in a healthy relationship over a toxic one, cuz usually those are the type where you're rooting for what's "good". I do enjoy them outside of fics and headcanons, but it's usually when the story actually is the kind of story that tells and explores a toxic relationship. But with Your Throne, I didn't think it was that kind of story. Given Medea's development, I was rooting for her success and happiness and for her to end up in a good relationship (if there is an endgame ship). So whenever I looked at Helidea I was like "this is supposed to be canon???"

I do want Your Throne to break the norms, not just in terms of tropes but also societal norms (like a not heteronormative romance or queer characters), but I didn't really expect much from it. Even if I didn't want Helidea to be canon, I still judged them through the lenses of "this is supposed to be canon???" cuz I expected it to be, and that was my mistake.

Yes, Helidea's kinda fucked up. They're pretty ass if you judge them on the basis of a good healthy romantic relationship. But as a toxic fictional relationship between morally dubious mentally ill characters, they're great actually. That's what the author intended to portray (I think so anyways), they're doing their job? They're interesting as a concept, something I'd wanna poke around at when I have brain worms. Kind of similar to how I feel about Medea x Eros (Mederos?). I never wanna see them in an actual relationship though, unless there's some huge development at Medea's end.

Speaking of Medea's end in their relationship: one of the reasons why I disliked it was because Medea never treated Helio like an equal. She cared for him to an extent, but that's more of how a master would love their favorite servant, nothing like the devotion Helio had for her. I would've been fine with that toxic master/servant dynamic if that were the point. But seeing how Medea treats Psyche, how she treats her like an equal and encourages her growth, while with Helio she just enables that toxic behavior and let him worship her? It really just didn't feel like she cared for Helio at all. But with rereading, and the more recent chapters with Helio's backstory (i havent caught up to it tho), I can see now that that behavior wasn't just a "she really don't give a fuck", but something more complicated. I don't think Medea could ever love Helio back the way he loves her, but she does care?

Anyways, as frustrated I am about Helio's backstory being way too long, he kinda needed it. He hasn't developed much for nearly the entire story, so like thank fuck he has an arc? The fact that it's so late tho?? I've had a negative opinion of him and Helidea for such a long time that idk what to feel about them even when my views are kinda changing.

[caracalliope]

Dear Yuletide Writer letter 2023

Dear Author,

Hi! Thank you for writing for me. Hope the end of 2023 finds you well.

I’m requesting my absolute favorite things I’ve read and watched this year. My Optional Details are EXTREMELY optional: anything you write in these fandoms is going to bring me joy.  If you have any questions, anon asks are turned on.

My requests this year are: the Doctor Blake Mysteries, the Dom DM, Vespertine, Several People Are Typing..., The Seven (Dimension 20), Demon 79 (Black Mirror episode).

In general, I like romance! Kink! Friendship! Hurt/comfort! Characters knowing each other really well! Drama! Anguish! Loyalty! Weird AUs (especially BDSM AUs or historical/fantasy AUs)! Experimental or unusual formats (including 1st and 2nd person narration, epistolary, drabble sequences, etc.)! Ooh, also roleswap AUs.

Extremely optional specific details that please me:

Dogs. 

Kneeling, ritually or for any other reason.

Character A running a con on someone and character B rolling with it even though it wasn’t discussed beforehand.

Kisses on the wrist/shoulder/neck/knee/etc.

Painplay. Especially caning!

Characters having big feelings about their social role conflicting with what they want.

Righteous patricide (probably not applicable here, but if you can make it work, go for it)!

Characters learning about each other's passions and getting really into it.

General Do Not Wants: 

extremely unhappy endings with no hope of things ever changing, 

underage sex for characters 14 or younger,

ageplay where the character is roleplaying someone age 14 or younger,

drunk/high characters, 

noncon or abuse among the requested characters - it’s generally fine if it’s from a third party as a source of hurt/comfort,

and characters succumbing to uncontrollable instincts (heats, ruts, vampire instincts, ). This includes intense, all-consuming, uncontrollable, the-character-is-literally-a-different-person-now type subspace.

mentions of current IRL wars. Other current events are fine.

The Doctor Blake Mysteries

Characters: Lucien Blake, Jean Beazley

I am so pleased with this cozy show and its extremely creative, hard-working fandom! 

Lucien is a compelling lead; I love how much he loves his mom (even when he learns complicated things about her), and I enjoy his multifaceted kindness that coexists comfortably with him being an arrogant prick. Him changing his mind is delightful to me.

Jean is a magnificent foil and love interest. I love her many ties to the community, and the way she really understands people; her kindness is different than Blake’s, more pragmatic. I enjoy the way she defends him from threats, physical and otherwise. The scene where she calmly makes tea, and they negotiate with Hannam as a couple - magnificent!

For Yuletide, I’d love to read something adventurous or porny. Let them defeat enemies and fuck about it, is what I’m saying. Or if you prefer longing, I’d also love something about that period after they became friends but before they realized they’re in love.

I’d also enjoy a different-setting AU that explores their relationship. Feel free to throw in some more cool power differences there! You could also tilt the power in Jean’s favor if you like: say a D/s AU where she’s a dom but also his housekeeper, and Lucien is a sub but also a doctor! I like the way they navigate their canonical power difference with grace, but I’d also like to see it shook up a bit in fic.

Fandom-specific Do Not Wants:

Love triangles, jealousy. I like Mei Lin, but if she’s in the story, I prefer it to be set after the divorce, with Jean and Mei Lin being on relatively good terms.

Danny. A casual, one-off mention would be fine, but I would prefer him not to have any lines. All other secondary/supporting characters are 100% welcome (I love them all! Especially Charlie, Mattie, and Rose.)

Note: My blanket DNW for characters being drunk/high in the story does extend to Lucien! I know his drinking is a major characterization beat, and you’re welcome to mention it casually or delve into it. But for the duration of the fic, I’d prefer him to be sober.

A Dom DM - Make Some Noise (Sketch)

Any characters

Please feel free to treat it as an origific concept! You’re welcome to use any gender configuration for the characters. A good girl can be anybody.

Is this a nerdy couple who fuse their love of TTRPG with kink? How did this hobby fusion develop? Do they ever switch? Are there kinks they tried and decided they won’t do? What happens if they roll high?

(Very optionally, I like the headcanon that the sub’s failed kneeling roll is because of a physical disability. That sounds like a fun way for a couple to work out mid-scene communication! Maybe the dice are a metaphor?)

Or you could delve into it as an AU concept: maybe it’s characters trying kink in a universe operating under TTRPG rules? Or kink is innately tied in with magic somehow? Are there Kink Bards and Kink Rogues and Kink Level-Ups? Feel free to add any amount of convoluted fantasy/sci-fi worldbuilding to it. 

Fandom-specific Do Not Wants:

Outright RPF! I don’t mind RPF usually, but for this fandom, I prefer a degree of separation from the creators. Absolutely feel free to include other Brennan moments in your characterization (like his thoughts on DMing as submission). But please don’t have the dom character be named Brennan, and don’t base the other character on from the Dropout cast. 

Note: My noncon DNW applies, but I’d be perfectly happy with some bodice-ripping dubcon AU where the dom is a Dark Fuck Prince who is all “have them bathed and brought to my - hitherto dragonless - dungeons” and the sub is both horny and kind of hapless.

Vespertine Series - Margaret Rogerson

Characters: Artemisia, The Revenant, Leander

Absolutely obsessed with the FEELINGS between Artemisia and her revenant, as well as Artemisia and Leander. There is so much deliciousness packed into this book.

I love the revenant’s growing loyalty, the way its innate curiosity drove its need to understand its nun (my headcanon is that, when the Raven King was sundered, our revenant got his curiosity in the divorce); and conversely, Artemisia FINALLY found someone who sees all of her and understands the ways she tries to make the world better. She’s got all this strange, offputting kindness and resilience in her - she always did! And now she gets to nurture that and also take care of herself, and all that needed to happen was a lil bit of demonic possession. <3

Leander, meanwhile, is a loser, and I say this with all the love in my heart. I need him to be at least a little reverent about Artemisia. She’s his saint, he ought to kneel at her feet like a worm, etc. etc. but also he’s kind of micromanaging and she’s not doing anything the right and proper way. What’s a sad masochist to do!?!

In fic, I’d love to see the three of them build something love-filled and lasting. It’s up to interpretation exactly how the revenant and Leander would feel about each other! Speaking of sad masochists, I think this is a good OT3 - or platonic OT3 - for some kinkfic. Namely, Leander getting flogged by his saint, or, like in this post by Rogerson, offering up his body for Artemisia and the revenant to get to touch each other. ("Stop hitting Yourself!)

Fandom-specific Do Not Wants:

Please don’t give the revenant a separate permanent body! I like body sharing too much (see also: Malevolent podcast). Feel absolutely free to write a different-setting AU, but even if they’re high schoolers or space werewolves, let Artemisia and the revenant share a body.

Note: I like the revenant using it/its pronouns like in canon, but if that doesn’t work for you, please feel free to go with whatever you like! 

Several People Are Typing - Calvin Kasulke

Any characters

I’m so into this strange little Night Vale Does WFH Hell book, and I’m fond of all its characters. I nominated my faves, but if you’re fonder of someone else, please follow your heart. I like everyone in this office-slash-work-community-slash-layer-of-hell, and I like the way they’re all somewhat fond of each other. I love routine-loving Doug Smorin, Kerolyn of the skinks, and Louis C being too much of a dad to be fully involved in the Twilight Zone of it all.

Gerald/Pradeep is such a compelling gradual romance, I love that Gerald is the only one to call him Deepu, and I love the strange forced intimacy of, you know, just guys being dudes, taking each other of a good buddy’s flesh vessel while the good buddy has to find pleasure and maintain his humanity in the face of metaphorical and literal digital submersion of the self. I’d love to see more of their conversations. More weird intentional hedonism. Hanging out together. Finding meaning outside work or even, somehow, meaning in work.

Rob, meanwhile, has got the role of being the only sane one! Kind of! Who’s to say Lydia is any less real than Rob himself? Who’s to say she’s any less real than you or me? I love the surreality of the whole plotline. Maybe you could write about the wolves? Howling is a good theme for Yuletide.

Or write about dear, sweet, precious, horny Slackbot! It’s interesting that this book came out before ChatGPT got to be everywhere. Combine the two in some unholy way? 

I don’t know, please have fun. If you’d like to write an AU set at your job, or an AU where they’re all exchange mods or activists or members of a spreadsheet-centered polycule, that would be cool too.

Fandom-specific Do Not Wants:

Graphic descriptions of pet death. RIP to Bjärk loyalists but I’m different.

Please no fucking of Gerald’s body when nobody’s in it.

Fandom: Dimension 20: The Seven

Characters: Sam Nightingale, Antiope Jones

OKAY, I WON’T LIE: I ship these two like burning. I ship all of the Maidens on some level, but Sam/Antiope are my favorites and I think they fit together beautifully. BUT I also adore their friendship, and I would love to see more of their canon dynamic but in new situations.

Sam is a delight to me, the way she accurately recognizes when something is a terrible, self-destructive idea, and then she goes ahead to do it anyway. She’s got no reason to trust good things happening to her, and she lashes out preemptively because that’s better than trusting and getting screwed over (as by Penelope). BUT she’s also got a secret kindness and largesse, and I love the way it manifests towards Talura, towards Taffodil, possibly even towards random people they meet on their adventures.

And then Antiope is sort of the conceptual opposite of Sam: she KNOWS she’s loved and she knows where she belongs to - or, at least, where she’s supposed to belong to - but she’s struggling with her authentic sense of self. (Sam’s ALWAYS known who she is, and hence the conflict with her terrible mom, and maybe eventually the conflict with Penelope too.) Antiope is very practical and has BIG FEELINGS she’s keeping restrained, and I love the way she and Sam spark into conflicts, but Antiope is so dedicated to being a good leader, not just because she’s even-keeled but because she’s got a very good sense of the right justice/compassion balance.

In fic, I’d love to see them save each other from Situations. Whether they’re friends or lovers, I’d love them to have a femme-butch kind of dynamic? (If you watch Dirty Laundry, a recent episode had Aabria casually kiss a friend’s hand, and that is definitely, definitely something I can see Antiope doing too). Weird/wacky/sexy AUs seem especially interesting here, like goddess AUs, soulmate AUs, D/s AUs, etc.

Fandom-specific Do Not Wants:

Violent transphobia, worse than in canon. I loved Sam’s interactions with her mom, and her reluctance to be filmed, but I wouldn’t like to see transphobia interfere more intensely than that with her life.

Please no cheating/infidelity, or even friendship jealousy. I know Sam’s possessive, and I love that about her, but I’m not interested in “Antiope is spending more time with others” as a source of angst at this time.

Black Mirror: Demon 79 (TV 2023)

Characters: Nida Huq (Black Mirror: Demon 79), Gaap (Black Mirror: Demon 79)

I’ve been staring at this request like a deer in headlights for days now.

I just want more? Literally every second they spent together was perfect, and I want to revel in that feeling. So I apologize if this request turns out hazy: it’s not through a lack of love for the canon, I just don’t know in what direction to take my feelings.

Nida and Gaap? Are perfect. I have no idea if they’re friends or lovers or demon/apprentice or even some kind of subverted twisty demon/worshiper or whatever else. I’d love some post-canon fic set in the void. Bring in other demons? Make it hurt/comforty? Or just ignore the ending have them explore Earth. I love Gaap’s appearance being Boney M-inspired, and I think maybe the two of them should go clubbing. Or they could bring clubbing into the void? Oooh, or they could try out some outfits. Nida finally has a willing model, if she’s into that sort of thing.

I do appreciate the episode’s deeper themes too. Nida Versus Seventies British Fascism is a deeply satisfying story, and I love just how creepy and visceral that part turned out. I was initially going to say I don’t want a no-magic AU, but actually, I could really enjoy like a kitchen sink realism approach, as long as it still ends on SOME kind of victoriousness for Nida and Gaap.

The crux of this ship, to me, is that everything is almost entirely unbearable for Nida, but, she’s got a hammer and also a demon pal. And frankly the world is not worth saving if it keeps failing her.

Fandom-specific Do Not Wants:

Betrayal or perceived betrayal. They like each other despite everything, and even during their spat they’re sort of on each other’s side.

Edit: it also just occurred to me that they'd make for magnificent vampires together.

THANK YOU FOR READING

THIS LETTER GOT LONGER THAN I MEANT IT TO BE. I hope you find something here to spark an idea! But again feel free to go wherever your canon feelings take you

Hope you have a happy Yule!

[alchemistc]

BTS for anything in the Sweet Leaf series!

His mouth twists. “We’ve been together for almost twenty years, mom, Jesus. He’s my fucking husband .” “There’s no need to swear, Stephen.” “Yeah. Sure. My good buddy is doing great, mom. My close friend Eddie Munson who sleeps in my bed and gave me his last name is fine.” The expression he sends her way is unreadable, as all his expressions are to her. “My pal Edward went double platinum with his latest album and as a celebration we had a nice, friendly candlelit dinner and then he tied me up and fucked me in the ass. As friends do.” “You’ve made your point. Rather crudely.” “At least I’m living up to your expectations, huh?” His glasses have slid down his nose, and Patsy has the urge, for just a moment, to fix them for him. 

several ways

For as much as I enjoyed all the slice of life moments in sweet leaf, this one was probably one of the most cathartic to write. This particular fic, with Steve's mom at the center of it, was probably the most difficult for me to stay in - she's the farthest removed from any of the other POV characters I use to parse out a life for Eddie and Steve, and therefore has the least history to draw on and make assumptions about their life together. Getting into Patsy Harrington's head and only noticing the sort of things she would notice was a trip, when I'd used everyone else's POV's to sort of wax lyrical about what a sweet and kind and loving relationship Steve and Eddie had.

The thing I like most about several ways is the way Patsy just can't quite help the way she jumps between latent motherly instincts and WASP-like behavior. She picked her husband over her son, and parsing out the guilt she pretends not to have over that gave this such an interesting perspective, such a dramatically different understanding of what Steve and Eddie were to each other, but there's still that underlying knowledge that Steve escaped the sort of life Patsy leads by the skin of his teeth.

It's also the first time I got to make Steve unrepentantly bitchy - with Tommy, Steve's either forgiven or put aside the old hurt, and with Carol he's more hesitant because he doesn't want to out himself or Eddie, and with Gareth there's a warmth to their acquaintance, because even if Gareth hadn't liked him, Steve had always been grateful that Eddie had Gareth.

But Patsy, in this moment and all the ones before, is still an open wound, and she doesn't get the benefit of the doubt, because she wasn't a literal child, because she accepted everything Steve's dad did and never made the effort to reach out.

And worse, there were moments - moments like this one, where she has to fight the urge to fix his glasses for him and doesn't know herself if it's a motherly instinct or about keeping up appearances, where she slingshots from wishing she'd had his industry connections to remembering that his laugh reminded her of her own, where she minimizes one of the most important relationships and the way it's shaped his entire life - moments that Steve had to have noticed, growing up, had to have internalized, had to have thought "Oh, she does care about me - nope, it was for appearances sake as usual." and we as the reader never really quite know which one it is either.

Also, My pal Edward went double platinum with his latest album and as a celebration we had a nice, friendly candlelit dinner and then he tied me up and fucked me in the ass. As friends do. is probably one of the favorite lines of dialogue I've ever written. It's so fucking raw and angry and rude, and it doesn't change the fact that Patsy refuses to acknowledge that Eddie is the love of Steve's goddamn life, but at least in the moment Steve feels comfortable enough in his own skin to get the dig in. Considering the radio silence he'd had for most of his life, it was definitely a little cathartic to get that out.

Distract me from my Steddie BB plotholes!

Unusual Fic-Specific Asks for Authors

[dimiclaudeblaigan]

I'm glad you're talking about the whole fandom perception of Dimitri and Claude’s relationship thing, because a lot of time people say stuff that's just... wrong? Like I don't understand where they get stuff from.

Claude being a flirt/"experienced". Dimitri being hostile towards Claude. Dimitri not trusting Claude (and vice versa). Claude using Dimitri for his own gains.

Literally none of this is anywhere in 3H??? But a lot of the fandom (either inside the dmcl circle or just the general fandom) seems to have just... made assumptions about their dynamic without actually LOOKING at how they act around each other (or even just as general characters). Like you might would think Dimitri wouldn't like/trust Claude becaudr of how Claude acts or that Claude uses Dimitri if you just looked at their bare bones characters.

Really saps the enthusiasm to read from authors I don't already know get their characters right, because I want to read dmcl for... Dimitri and Claude’s relationship, not Dmitri and Clawd know ehat I mean?

I don't either. I think it's more what they want him to be like versus what he's actually like. For their relationship, same thing.

I wouldn't be surprised if some of these people just didn't play both routes, some of them didn't like one of the two or some just wanted to slap on their kinks for them.

Normally I don't mind when people just have wild perceptions as long as they don't downplay other people's views, but a lot of them from what I've seen do downplay other people's views and treat their views are The Right View. In general that's a huge problem in Houses' fandom, but with dmcl it's especially tiring because I want to enjoy a ship I really love (probably more than any other ship out there at this point), but then I see people who treat the characters like they didn't even play the game.

If people mention in a fic they wrote like, this is ooc because I just want to write this, that's fine. I don't care what people want to see happen and write in their fics. Unfortunately it seems like the "my way or the highway" people got a bunch of other people to go along with their "this is how this ship actually is" ideas and now there's a bunch of people like that. It really doesn't help when some of them as seen as "fandom authority" in the respective ship, so whatever they like people go along with (and yeah, that's unfortunately a big problem in the dmcl fandom).

Personally I never write characters outside of their actual behavior. Like, sure, I personally hate EdeIgard, but when writing Dimitri I understand that he has mixed feelings because they're step siblings and he cared about her as kids. Even if he's my favorite character, I wouldn't want to write him as totally bonkers levels of ooc so he could do what I wish would happen and things like that.

Modern AUs and stuff it's mostly whatever and a free for all so I never really minded those. That's kind of a situation where you can just let your creative outlet do the writing and alter things as needed (I myself prefer changes as long as they can fit somehow into the character/their story and readers can be like oh hey yeah I could see that, so I do that for my own writing). It's when I see canon based concepts where for some reason they make the characters have this strained relationship that they never had, and it didn't come from canon so I guess somewhere along the way someone wanted to write their relationship their own way and it just... got picked up on?

My main annoyance is that the most popular idea of their relationship seems to be a very toxic, unhealthy relationship. That's just... not my idea of loving this ship lol. If I wanted that, they just wouldn't be the ship I would go for. Even in Dimitri's darkest moments, he wouldn't kill Claude just after announcing he wanted any enemies/anyone who stood in their way killed.

Other than one or two people having that as their determined writing/viewpoint of the ship and people taking to it and it becoming popular, I really don't know how else that general view of them got like it is.

I just wish people wouldn't shove it in other people's faces and laugh at other shippers who view the characters/relationship differently basing off what they see in canon (which yes, I have outright seen on Twitter), acting like it's/they're stupid. Mind you, it's always the people who have warped perceptions of the characters/their relationship who say things like that and push others away.

Kind of dryly ironic. Some of the people who enjoy the toxic relationship perception are in fact toxic people. Do I know this from experience? Why yes actually. Most unfortunately. 😒

[bartletslesbians]

any of 1, 2, 19, 20 (they’re v similar so please feel free to answer them together/ pick whichever you want to answer!!)

Femslash Shipping Questions!

Thank you for these!! and omg this got a little more personal than I was expecting lmao here you go

1/2: What was the first time you encountered canon/fanon femslash? How old were you? How did it make you feel?

Canon wise, I was a Pretty Little Liars girly. I was SO in love with Emily Fields and her girlfriends, and 10/11 year old me was smitten. Even then, it never occurred to me to seek out more content online? I was reading PLL fanfiction, but it was all ezria (Ezra Fitz/Aria Montgomery, a teacher/student thing that I thought was so romantic). I didn't actually see much fan content around wlw except some background ships in the drarry fanfic I read. I took a step into femslash fandom when I added past Narcissa/Lily to my lucissa fics at.. 14? but never really engaged much with other wlw content bc it made me feel Weird (even though I identified as bi at the time and was fine with that, the internalised homophobia was Strong) and I hated lesbian headcanons for a long time... not a good time. Then around 17 or so I found Extinction by @rubikanon which got me into cissamione overnight, and I think that is really what jumpstarted my love for femslash as a fandom section?? But even then, it's taken a while from then until the time I started really writing femslash fic regularly.

I'm about to turn 22 now, and I love femslash fandom with all my heart. But I'd say it's honestly really been the last? two years? That I've also let myself enjoy that wholeheartedly without feeling icky or ashamed around it. It's been a blast.

19: Thoughts about lesbian tragedy and bad endings?

Okay so I know that as a general trend, they're bad. I know the history of them, and I do very much oppose the idea that in order to tell an interesting lesbian story, the lesbians gotta die and be miserable. I wish we had more content where we lived and weren't hidden away while married to men, you know, absolutely. In terms of mass media, 100%.

That said.

I love it.

I love tragedy, I love tear-jerk stories where people die and can't be together, I love forbidden love, I love stories with infidelity. I love it regardless of if it's femslash or not. I think here though, my condition is that I love these stories, if they're about queer women being miserable, I want them told by queer women. Let us indulge in the stories of our own suffering when it's not a condition for our stories to exist in the first place.

Yes, mass media telling us our stories are worth telling only if we die, terrible and should not be a thing, I hate it. But god do I love a good tragedy.

20: Thoughts about (purely fictional!) lesbian unhealthy relationships?

All in favour of this, honestly. A lot of the femslash I personally write is actually quite wholesome compared to other ships I write? And I think part of it is that I'm legit kinda scared to indulge in darker content with femslash bc it feels like there's this Thing around femslash that it's supposed to be cute and wholesome to offset the mean evil dyke stereotypes around wlw. The darkest I get between women is a consensual age gap, whereas with ships like Sirius/Narcissa, I love exploring how genuinely fucked up a relationship can be. I'm more hesitant to do that with femslash, even though there's plenty of ships it could work for.

I like to read darker femslash, though, and I love the authors providing us with it. Maybe one day I'll actually be comfortable enough to let my sapphic characters be less than good and sad-at-worst.

[anonnie-in-wonderland]

when i say that I enjoyed “Home Calls the Heart” so much trust that i do not lie!!! i typically don’t like to compare people bc everyone has a different journey to writing and creating stories on here , but man the way you write using tropes like hybrid and poly bts, which can easily become horribly written (in my opinion) is something out of this world. I feel like people typically either explain the world surrounding hybrids too much or too little to truly understand how their dynamics work throughout the story. But the way you write makes it seem right. I understand enough to the point where it doesn’t distract me from the main plot! I also love the way you write poly!bts <3 again im trying not to sound too harsh because everyone works hard for their art, but the way you write ot7xreader seems so genuine and not too cartoonish if that makes sense. i have a hard time trying to find some good poly!bts fics bc i luv them so much but sometimes it hurts my head. i mean i could imagine how hard it could be to incorporate seven character that have different traits and their own spirit, but, again, the way you have written them in “Home Calls the Heart” has me excited for new chapters to come!! Im trying my best to give feedback and appreciation towards my fav authors on here because i know how hard it is to express your art and not be financially compensated jiji you guys literally deserve the world!!! it’s also fun just being able to tell my favorite people that they are doing amazing at what they do best :) i hope this ask finds you well and yeah <3 i’ve also decided to give myself a lil nickname if that’s okay (pls do let me know if that’s okay) i would like for it to be the 🌙 emoji!! if someone else has it pls lmk so i could change it jiji-🌙

Hello, hello! Wow this was not something I was ever expecting to receive, but I am really humbled. I thank you for being into my writing. I’ve been writing a very long time but not for any kpop fandoms, and I was nervous about how it would be received.

I think different writing styles appeal to different people, but at the same time I know what you mean! It can be very difficult to find the right balance of how much information to use, and you don’t really want to confuse yourself or the reader, but at the same time you want to include more than barebones info.

I’m glad my approach to worldbuilding currently is not too hard to follow along with. That’s the key. Because at the end of the day I saw the prompt and wanted to tell a nice tale of the reader and hybrid BTS all healing from their friendship (and eventually more) with each other. As to the relationships…OT&s are popular and I knew right away I wouldn’t be leaving anyone out cause that’s not my style, but I did have to decide whether there would be shipping among OT7 or not, and you know I feel like when you’ve been around the people you love a long time, things would be casual. Casual intimacy.

I think some stories maybe do a lot of “hey!! Look!! They’re dating!!” And write them accordingly, and I suppose that’s fine, but I guess I try to write them as people in love who have nothing to prove. They just are comfortable in a relationship together and the Y/N gets to be a part of it.

Thank you for wanting to be someone that tells fanfic writers how much they’re appreciated. 🥹 That is so kind! I admit, I kind of miss the consistency of the feedback on my writing I’ve gotten in the past. Like beyond people just asking to be on the taglist or saying they’re excited to read more, I really use to love engaging with people on tumblr about my writing, but haven’t gotten a whole lot of that so far. So sometimes I wonder if I come off too intimidating. 😭 Because I see other writers chatting with readers about their stories and I’d love to do the same if anyone wants to. I appreciate any and everyone who takes the time to leave comments or ask questions though!

And of course you can go by that emoji if you choose to! It would help me keep track of who I’m talking to in the future and no one else is using it, so I don’t see why not. Thanks for your ask!