#i have no idea if some folks have written fics similar to these ideas before!

[scummy-writes]

I've been thinking about genres of fanfic I don't normally write, and figured I'd share some angsty fic ideas I've either gotten cold feet on, or accepted that they're not in my capabilities to write. Just some summaries of what the fic plot would have covered. Mainly ikevamp but there is ikepri too.

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Unrequited Isaac/Mc - I feel like it's easy to assume Isaac would easily be in unrequited love situations from his side of things, but switching it to Mc actually being the one having unrequited feelings would be interesting, I think!

The plot would have been similar to Isaac's route a smidge, as in how they begin to finally *talk* and Mc generally getting closer, and a friendship forming. Isaac starts to get out of his shell a smidgen, and she even helps him gain the confidence to teach again. All the while her feelings for him keep bubbling forth, until one day when he pulls her aside, flustered and requesting help.

He admits to spending some time after teaching with an acquaintance, and that was the reason why he would be late to return some days. He stumbles over his words a lot, but eventually stutters out that the aquaintance is a woman he believes he has feelings for. Isaac is nearly ashamed to ask, but due to a lack of experience, he was wanting Mc's help with how to approach asking her on a date.

Mc's chest constricts, her breath hardly coming out, but after a moment she finally nods, explaining that she'd be more than happy to help him with this, because what are friends for?

There would be a chunk of the fic with her having to hear Isaac happily going over details about the wonderful date he's went on, and how thankful he is for Mc's help, that he's the happiest he's been in ages.

It could easily branch to Mc getting with someone else in the mansion over this, but all I could imagine was her essentially using them to get over her own feelings, rather than legitimately wanting to be in a relationship with them. And maybe they would know it too!

But the idea hurt too much so I kept everything as notes _(:3」∠)_

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Arranged Marriage Clavis/Mc - I won't act like I understand royalty and the politics that come with it since this flavor of fantasy isn't my forte and I don't seek it out, so keep that in mind please. Secondly, I don't hate Chev and this idea is unfair towards him.

It would have been a fic centered around Mc being in an arranged marriage for whatever reason with Chevalier (don't leave yet---). She's unhappy, she doesn't want it, and she's upset with how cold he seems. She's to stay in the palace until the marriage, and she's unfortunately stubborn. Her mind isn't changing about him, and most of her anger towards her family is being (internally) redirected towards him.

Clavis is naturally around Chev a lot, we all know this, and with her being new to the palace, everyone is a bit curious about her. And Clavis....is a huge softie in my mind... so I imagine that once he notices how often she looks so solemn and upset, he prods at her to rise different emotions out of her.

And at first, she thinks he's annoying. She's frustrated and trying to figure out the best case scenarios for staying here, and she has this fool popping up and insisting she try this and that 'food' he's made, or pull her to the gardens to watch one of the other princes fall for a trap he's made. Or, if she's particularly sour about something Chev has said, he joins in on her venting.

But as time goes on, she enjoys his frequent prodding. It's no longer just a distraction, and as much as they bicker, she finds herself missing him when he's too busy to visit.

And, well, it's obvious where it'd spirial to. The two eventually falling victim to their emotions and having a heated 'confession', sneaking around, trying to deny the feelings but not able to stop seeing each other late at night.

I didn't want to attempt it because I'd get so many details about the game's universe wrong firstly, but also it was just mean towards chev _(:3」∠)_ I wanted to cover the fact that he wasn't an asshole, and that he'd do a few things that would make Mc fairly happy.

Then pregnancy scares were considered, but as I thought about it longer, I shriveled up and decided i cannot write for this game and that this would have been the most melodramatic tv soap themed fanfic I'd written and I promptly erased the document notes.

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Character Death Arthur/Mc - I actually wrote a good chunk of this one before rereading when I was more awake and realized it made no sense, and put the document away.

This one is more simple, and was a focus on the fact that the vampires would outlive Mc. I don't like Mc going vampireless, but the idea is certainly....a thing...to think about.

The fic itself was going to be shortly after her passing, with Arthur essentially staring at the music box he had given her at the start of their relationship. It's well worn by the time this happens, he knows that the comb doesn't hit all the notes properly, that it skips over a few. The lever is harder to crank, and the paint on the dog figure has rubbed off over time- even with all the repaints she would do.

He'd been unable to sleep that night, just absentmindedly staring at this box, unable to stop himself from thinking about various memories with her- when they married, the surprises he hid in his stories for her, and how giddy she was with them. The arguments they had, the nights he was convinced she'd leave him, the day they realized just how sick she was. All the times they considered turning her, and the way his gut twists wishing he managed to convince her to agree to it, even if it was in the worst of ways, because then she'd still be alive and happy.

I think I was going to have him put her wedding ring inside of the box, and then hide it in his dresser or shelf, due to the fact that every time he looked at it, he felt like throwing up from the onslaught of emotions.

I almost posted this one but chickened out! But the draft really was bad because I wanted to try and show just how disjointed his thoughts were, but it just made the whole fic nonsense.

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Reincarnation Au Isaac/Mc - this one wouldn't have been too angsty, and I actually posted the first part (here) of this during 2021's Isaac Week.

I was going to have Mc as a vampire, and Isaac as a human. It was inspired by that one event where the suitors aren't who they are historically, but theyre still vamps and meet time-period appropriate Mc, that had sad as fuck endings.

It would go with Mc spotting him at the cafe one day and eventually gaining a bit of a crush on him, to her finally meeting him, to how they would stumble into a relationship. Hilariously, their first time being together wasn't going to be heavily focused on.

Instead, it was going to be focused on Mc trying to come to terms with letting Isaac die. It was going to be a generic instance of people finding out she's a vampire, Isaac trying to protect her, and failing.

And all the while, as the years go on, she's traumatized over it (naturally). It would cut to modern day, and her spending a lot of time with a witch friend. The friend being very disappointed in Mc's near refusal to properly try and recover. She's gone decades refusing to get too close to anyone else, wears and regularly repairs the gift he'd given her, and she's still overwhelmed with guilt. Her friend has offered to even do the extreme of helping her get rid of the memories, but she's stubborn, and her friend gives the ultimatum that she needs to learn to live again, or else they really would go through with the extreme. (This sounds very silly so this was a strong reason I dropped it)

But during one visit, Mc ends up shakily telling her friend that she ran into him again. (Said friend thinks she's finally gone delusional for a moment). Isaac seems to have no memories of her, and their conversation was strained due to her being in disbelief.

The fic was then going to go the route of the two shakily getting together again, only for Isaac to admit he did remember her after seeing her a few more times, but was upset she didn't seem to remember or refused to get too close to him again, and so he avoided her for a while to try and get his thoughts in order, and if this was a relationship to persue again.

It was going to have a happy ending and focus on Isaac helping her absolve some of the guilt she's had for years. Not too angsty, very angst Lite at the most. I ended up scrapping it due to thinking it wouldn't be interesting for others to read, and that the mc and the friend were very flat.

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Recovery Gilbert/Mc (Tw: Self Harm, when the text turns blue then this idea is over with, if you wanna skip it!) - I know jack shit about Gilbert and his personality is hard for me to figure out. I don't think I could write him convincingly even if I wanted to. And with general "i am out of my element" vibes with ikepri, this likely wouldn't be one I'd ever actually write, and in general this wouldn't be a subject I could feel okay posting in depth regardless of the fandom

It's short, but it was essentially a situation set up as it is in Sariel's route- the three visiting princes staying there, yadda yadda.

There isn't much of a lead up to this one as the others, but in short my ikepri Oc regularly hurts herself. I'm not going into specifics with that.

The set up was that Gilbert finds out, and in return for not telling anyone else about it or trying to allude to it in front of others, he wanted to ask questions regarding it (the whys and other questions).

And she hates it. He has the same entertained look as always and she doesn't want to put an ounce of trust in him because it's risky and scary, honestly. But the idea of anyone else finding out makes her heart thump painfully against her ribs, and she quietly agrees.

He ends up tipping her chin to make her look at him, and asks when the last time it happened, with a reminder that he can't stand people lying to him. Bitterly she tells him, and is mildly surprised he doesn't ask anything else. Instead, he comments about meetings in the morning, and how a certain rabbit is in charge of helping the visitors with that, and moves to leave.

But he leaves salve and bandages behind, mentioning that if the wounds were to get infected, she'd get caught by the others quickly.

...the story would be about the very strange ways he'd manage to get her to stop doing it, while she stresses about how truthful he is with any of his intentions and words. It would have dissolved into a strained relationship.

Aside from the stuff I stated, this would be something very hard to write. I know others write this content, and dead dove content, but it seems like such a risky thing for me to write about. For various reasons, but also its scary to think about how it could unintentionally negatively impact people who struggle with it. I know slapping warnings is supposed to be the safety net there, but anxiety is never resonable.

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And that's it! Or all I can remember at the moment. It is 5am in my tinezone so my brain is not at 100% right now.

But uh. Yeah, the way these aren't super structured and grossly ooc or too soap opera for me is why I usually just stick to smut and small fluff drabbles.

And I am also a crybaby. That is a major reason.

If you guys wanted to ask qs about them, I wouldn't mind, but if its a critism of how bad they are or how they're ooc, I don't want to hear it.

[yuri-is-online]

Jade desperately googling and reading threads about mer x human pregnancies before he even dates yuu.

It differs from species to species, usually fem mer x male human results in viable pregnancies, there are a two articles about eels and humans, but none about morays.

His hope is dwindling, and the general consensus about deep sea folk relationships with humans isn't very good.

I HC that male mer x female human pregnancies don't last very long. After the sperm makes contact with an egg, it'll need a few months of growth before it's expelled from the body and put into the sea. Those kinds of couples usually have one child at a time, it depends on the number of available eggs.

Modern day people in twst have aquariums that are made to hold the clutches in a safe environment away from predators. The aquariums can be used both underwater and on land. After 'hatching' the babies are translucent, they are kept in the aquariums until they gain colour. Once they have enough colour they are let out.

The smallest aquariums need to hold at least one human adult, so that a parent can interact and communicate with their clutch during the growing process.

I think I read a post/fic with a similar headcannon to this? Long long ago, perhaps even before I even downloaded Twisted Wonderland. I don't fully remember... but it is something I have been thinking about a decent bit ever since you sent this ask because it raises so many questions.

I think it makes the most sense in human x mer relationships for one or the other to take a transformation potion and move onto the land/into the sea. In these cases pregnancy/egg laying would go as it would "normally" but what you're suggesting made me think about what would happen if a couple got it on raw in their normal forms and not transformed. Would that result in a viable pregnancy? If it did would it produce the sorts of offspring you are suggesting or would it result in some sort of hybrid child, barely held together by their own magic?

The aquariums are a good idea, the story seems to suggest that Jade and Floyd had other siblings once but they didn't make it. Their mother's obsession with checking up on them and teaching self defense makes a lot of sense if you think of that... she lost most of her babies, she wants the two she has to remain safe (i bet she's going feral rn, let Mama Leech into the enclosure S.T.Y.X. she'll put Malleus in his place ٩(๑`^´๑)۶) My question is whether or not that would interfere with the development of the eggs, especially on land. The deep ocean is very cold, recreating that on land could be problematic. With how few merfolk seem to bother with land (Azul mentions not many people bother with the free program in Book 6) there likely wouldn't be much of anyone thinking up a solution to this problem so few people have.

But Jade has that problem. Or will, he's sure of it but that's a minor detail- point is this is a problem he's actively thinking about. It keeps him awake at night, Jade strikes me as someone who would do a lot of research about this. It's part of how he loves, pouring through a pile of scientific articles that was slim to begin with but feel irrelevant now. None of these help him understand his chances because he is from the deep sea, Jade might be hardened towards the death of his siblings but he thinks of his own children and a rage unlike any he's ever known begins to stir in the pit of his stomach. Later, much later when he is explaining this all to you he will brush it off as him considering your human sensibilities, but the truth is written plain on his face. This little aquarium he has made was a solution painstakingly crafted with help from his own obsessions. It's the most important terrarium he has ever made because it will contain the most precious of all life forms, ones he watches grow in awe as he coos softly. These children were wanted long before they were ever born, their parents loved them to the point of invention and every second up until they hatch and forever after.

[zombee]

I feel like the luckiest Our Flag Means Death fan in the world after the season 2 finale. By a series of incredible circumstances - including a significant metatextual realization that came in at the 11th hour - it was close to perfect for me.

This essay has everything. Completely normal behavior over a television series. Steven Universe references. The David Jenkins School of Whatever is Best for the Bit. Humbling catharsis.

First: this piece does not exist with the central thesis of “it’s okay to not like something but that’s not the same thing as it being bad.” I feel like thousands of words have already been written on this since Thursday, so I’m going to try to not get too in depth on that.

Second, cards on the table, because it’s relevant and I don’t want to waste your time if this is going to sour your ability to hear me out: I’m an Izzy Canyon hater. For MANY reasons, but from way before the concept of the Canyon existed, (some) Izzy fans pinged me in the same way as Snape/Kylo Ren fans did, and before May 2022 was over I went from genuinely enjoying Izzy’s character and place in the narrative to hating him because his fans made it impossible for me to enjoy him anymore.

(SOME! of his fans. Please don’t keep making me say this, although I’m not going to talk about the Canyon directly anymore after this. I know there are a ton of normal Izzy Enjoyers and even Canyonites, I am literally friends with many of them, please take this all in the good faith it’s intended and if you’re not One Of The Bad Ones then you’re fine! I very carefully don’t go anti-Izzy on main, and when I stopped enjoying his character, I stopped writing him into fics. I’m not trying to be a dick, I just want to be honest. Anyway.)

The season 2 finale made me weep over Izzy Goddamn hands.

ALL season long, I was disgruntled. All season long. I really, truly, DEEPLY appreciated what they were doing with his character and arc, I thought it was wildly on brand for the themes of community/queerness in the show, I saw the vision, I liked it!!! But. I wanted a fucking apology, yall. I needed three seconds of “sorry I called you a slur, Ed :/” and that would have been enough. But I had to let it go. It was poisoning my enjoyment of the whole season, which I loved with very little exception (not none!) and I just had to let it go. I wasn’t getting an apology. That didn’t negate what they were doing with his character.

Yall. They withheld the apology on purpose.

THIS FUCKING SHOW!!!

Let’s go back a bit. I was at the episode 6 + 7 screening, and the breakup shook me. Probably a LOT more than if I had watched it alone in bed at 3am on my laptop - five days of no sleep after NYCC, lots of emotions, seeing it on a big screen with a hundred other intense fans, etc etc - but I did see other folks reacting in parallel ways to me when the episodes aired to the regular public, so maybe I would have felt the same way. Regardless, I was mad at Stede and to a lesser extent Ed. I NEEDED AN APOLOGY FOR THAT FISH LINE. I needed it! “Whativah” autocorrects to “WHATIVAH” in my phone. I was going through it.

(When I rewatched the episode when it aired it was not nearly as bad as I remember, lol)

So now the episode 8 screeners go out and the reviews drop and I think I catch one half-glimpse of a “What a heartbreaking ending!” kind of snippet, and some of my friends who are spoiler fiends unintentionally drop little hints about similar ideas (devastating/heartbreaking/split the fandom) type shit.

And I was a fucking WRECK! about it.

I do love this whole show with my whole chest. I do!!! But I’m not rotted because this is an excellent television show, I’m rotted because two old men kiss each other! On the MOUTH!!! in an excellent television show. You get it, right? I’ve written 700,000 words across almost 100 fics and 98% of them are dedicated to those two men falling in love in different universes. 

So it just did not even occur to me the “heartbreak/devastation/fandom split” would be about anything but Gentlebeard.

Another piece of this that was fucking me up - David Jenkins and his “satisfactory” ending biz. My brain was reacting like this show was ENDING ending, even if I knew logically! that this is just season 2!!! And I wasn’t ready for that, because what if it wasn’t personally satisfying, and I’m a mess about it? Why was I so worried about not liking it? I’d liked the whole season! Even if they didn’t nail the landing I wasn’t going to stop writing fic or hanging out with my pirate community & friends. 

…is what I kept trying to tell myself, but the way anxiety disorders work is funny like that lol. What if I did stop writing fic and hanging out in pirate spaces? That would hurt much more than a show I like disappointing me. And for anyone who’s having that experience with ofmd s2, I’m so very, very sorry. It sucks and that’s where my epiphany came from on Wednesday before the finale.

Because it has happened to me before.

I flit from hyperfocus to hyperfocus, as ya do when you’re spicy, but the last thing to get its hooks in me PROPERLY like pirates was Steven Universe. And I did NOT like the way the regular season ended!!! (I actually really did like most of Future; that’s not what I mean. I mean season 5). I don’t like how they handled the Diamonds, tldr; I think the scope of their villainy got too out of hand, and I was left grieving the thing that had meant enough to me I ran a fan convention for four years based around it. 

Side note: imagine if I had channeled the hyperfocus of almost a million words of fanfiction into an American OFMD con instead. We could have made magic :( I did consult with Our Con Means Death though so I am at least a teeny tiny bit of that one!

I did not like the way Steven ended… but I do respect the story they were telling and think they told it well.

I’m still sad about it. Steven is still one of my most beloved, it will always be beautiful and great to me, but that experience did and does sully my memories. There is so, so, so, SO much more good than bad from being in that fandom, and I cherish it. And I hope, if you’re having this experience with OFMD right now, that you’ll find similar comfort.

But, like I said at the top, “it’s okay to not like something but that’s not the same thing as it being bad” has been belabored already by people better at writing about it than me. I just had the incredible privilege to remember my brush with lower case T trauma and having that experience in my last REALLY big deal fandom. That’s why I had been so extra anxious about being disappointed. Because it happened to me before. It helped so much to connect those two.

So the finale happens, and it’s actually about twelve hours of me going from “eh, rushed but fun, whole season was great” to “THIS MAYBE IS THE BEST SHOW OF ALL TIME, ACTUALLY!”

BECAUSE THIS SHOW MADE ME CRY OVER IZZY FUCKING HANDS!!!!

They literally told me this was the story they were telling this season. “Men can change” “The end  of piracy” “Ed leaving Blackbeard behind (ish).”

As for me? I didn’t get an apology for the fish. Instead, I got “Sorry I was a dick.” “You weren’t a dick. Life’s a dick.”

Just… fuckity BAM. THREE FUCKING SENTENCES resolving that fight. Saying so much in so little.

In real life, should these two men have an actual conversation about this shit? Sure!!! But that’s not how OFMD tells its stories!

It works in symbolism. It works in vibes. It works in an hour’s worth of content into each half-hour episode, and for how much lamenting I have done about the pacing, I would prefer that 100x to having to stretch it out too much.

I have said since March 24, 2022 that OFMD wields anachronism as a weapon. First and foremost, it’s fucking funny, but in addition to that, it’s stating clearly: “This is a fantasy world. This is not real history. This show is about romance (and so much more than that), and the rest is just VIBES!!!”

Sometimes vibes can be historical accuracy. Sometimes vibes can be true emotional poignancy. Sometimes vibes can be Ed finding his sunken leathers in the sea, changing underwater somehow, and coming out of the ocean like the Birth of Fucking Venus, because water and rebirth and mermaids and shit is all very prominent this season. And ALSO, and this is very important! BECAUSE IT LOOKS FUCKING COOL!

I don’t want to do much real Izzy meta here. It’s been said by others, and better than me. But it was telegraphed and it was symbolic – he was the paragon of Traditional Piracy in season 1, for goodness’ sake, and Traditional Piracy is Toxic Masculinity, and he was a part of Blackbeard and Ed had to leave Blackbeard behind (yknow, ish), and he got this ABSOLUTLEY FUCKING LOVELY! storyline about appreciating what a (queer) community can do, and god fucking shit fucking dammit… most of all, best of all (for me), was Buttons landing on Izzy’s grave at the end. Men can change. And Izzy DID!!! He did it for Ed. For love. For community. I am puzzled by “it’s fucked up to use Izzy to further Ed’s storyline” because… this was Ed’s season, in the way that season 1 was Stede’s. And Ed cannot be removed from piracy as a whole (neither can Stede!) so to have this old, set in his ways, coded-queerphobic character blossom to the point he can give this gift to Ed and to piracy… idk man. I just find it so fucking beautiful.

It is okay not to like what they did. It’s okay!!! It’s okay, and it’s okay to mourn, and while it’s not okay to do [insert vile behavior here], it’s okay to carefully examine what you think is “bad writing” vs “what you would have preferred to happen” and give good-faith, textually-based criticism on that.

But I want to remind you over and over and over again, this show works on vibes. It tells its stories leaving many, many, many gaps. There are many things I would have liked to see, and y’know what? I would have told the Izzy story differently. I would have personally done it differently. But it’s not my show! It’s not my show, and I am humbled and delighted to remember that, and to appreciate Our Flag Means Death for what it is and not what it isn’t.

Other words have been written better than I could about the 18 months between seasons 1 and 2 and what that does to us as rabid fans with expectations of how things will go. Millions and millions and millions of words have been written about OFMD, fictional and non, and that is going to color our expectations and experience. We had built it up SO MUCH in our minds and along the way I think some of us forgot (INCLUDING ME!!!) that it is first and foremost about Vibes.

The vibes of Izzy’s death are about rebirth and forgiveness and leaving traditional piracy behind. And he got to die in Ed’s arms, knowing (HAPPILY!) that he had been wrong, and giving Ed the gift of letting him know he is loved, and being a part of something. We had a funeral but we also had a wedding. The only constant is change. Men, piracy, Blackbeard; it all changes. And Izzy found peace in that.

Before my last point, I want to @ myself on things I felt versus realizing in the end it is (I will say it until I’m blue in the face) about vibes.

· I was convinced they left Buttons’ transformation ambiguous because they wanted to leave room for it not having been real. NO!!! It is real, until they decided it isn’t. Magic in the OFMD universe? Fucking why not!!! IT’S SYMBOLIC!!! IT’S IMPORTANT TO ED’S STORYLINE AND THE CENTRAL THESES OF THE SHOW!

· I was unhappy, and still am a little, about the Polycule Situation, but now that I realize Oluwande is Zheng’s Stede… I am less so. The Zheng : Auntie :: Ed : Izzy vibes, btw? Fuckin immaculate.

·        Obviously they touched on Stede/Ed’s “killing people trauma” but I’d reallyyyy like Stede to address it, and even though I think Ed’s is left on a very satisfying note, I’d like him to dip a bit more into it as well. But if they don’t, oh well! It’s not like they ignored it, they just didn’t have a Deep Dive like I Wanted Them To!

· They didn’t deal with Ed throwing Stede’s shit away. They just ignored it! Stede started to collect new trinkets, and I believe that was as much about giving the audience back the old feeling of the Revenge as it was anything important (not to say it wasn’t also important thematically!!!). Just like Ed going back to his leathers is both Extremely Important thematically and about putting Taika back in the leathers because that’s what Blackbeard should be wearing for the epic final scenes for the sake of visually keeping the show consistent. That’s Blackbeard’s uniform.

· Stede’s frilly little outfits my beloved. God I hope they give him back some of his frippery in season 3. I think they will re: cursed suit BUT his journey this season was about something else, so!

· Ed’s stupid little non-profit non-apology, oh my god. It was so funny. And there is a transition from eps 5 to 6 where Ed is back in his leathers and the crew is more comfortable around him. They didn’t have to have him do a Real Apology, it’s implied it was all settled. What was the timeline? A day? DOESN’T MATTER, BABY, VIBES!!!

· Lots more, I’m sure, but now that I’ve tried to let it all go, I’m remembering less of what I wanted and appreciating what I got!

And, last point here, I think it is also very very very important to remember that a lot of people are normal about this show. In fact, WAY more people are normal about this show than aren’t. And that is EXTREMELY! IMPORTANT!!! because otherwise it wouldn’t be profitable and we all know what would happen then. We are the core of it, to be sure. Without word of mouth that stems from our intensity, this show would not be NEARLY as successful as it is. I truly, truly believe that.

But.

Do normies need deeply emotional discussions dissecting the central relationships? No. What normies need is Ed and Stede running dramatically toward each other on the beach and kissing. And I am happy, so fucking happy, to realize that’s what I need too. I’ve got fanworks for the rest.

I love this fucking show and this fucking fandom and its fucking creators so much. Fuck.

[destielfanfic]

Group Ask #215

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Ask #1 ( @trampslike-us ): there’s this fic…#1

Hi! I have been searching for a fic to the point I think I’ve totally made it up now! Pretty sure it’s SU where Dean used to turn tricks to make money for him and Sam as teenagers and he’s working through some shit while him and Cas start a relationship. Sam doesn’t know about Deans past but Dean lets it slip at a dinner (poss thanksgiving?) at Jodie’s (I think!) after a few drinks. I keep going back to Like Moses and Batman thinking it must be that but get to the end and realise it’s not! If you have any idea what I’m talking about send help <3

Ask #2 ( @targaryenchester): there’s this fic…#2

I am at my wits end. I need to reread this fic like my life depends on it. But I can't find this fic anywhere. So the plot kind of goes like this- Dean is a Rockstar but he retired so Sam can have his own career, not just some nepo kid of a big shot singer. However sam screws up with drugs. Dean is retired, he sings at Ellen's bar. Sam feels bad so he brings Cas to check out a singer (Dean). Cas is part of a rival label but he still agrees. Sam is determined to help Dean relaunch his career. So that's how Cas meets Dean. At the bar when Dean is singing. That's the core setting. Does a fic like that rings a bell? Pls help me out🥺🥺

Ask #3 ( @grilmo-bartlett ): there’s this fic…#3

Hi! Im wondering if you can help me find a fic? its really not a destiel fic per se, but I think it was written by someone who hadn't actually seen supernatural and they thought dean was named "destiel." it was kind of a crack fic and I don't remember much else about it, but I feel like I saw it on tumblr. just spent the last hour or so looking and I cant get anywhere. Thank you so much for any help!

Ask #4 ( @buckbuckleydiaz118 ): there’s this fic…#4

Hi! I’m looking for a fic I read on AO3 a while ago and it was a longish multichapter fic, E rating I’m pretty sure. Dean and Cas were in college, Dean was a football player and kind of a bully to Cas and they hid their relationship for a while and had a big angsty break up because Dean saw Alastair bullying Cas again and just turned away instead of defending him yet again and then Dean had a breakdown when Cas left him and threw the necklace Dean gave him back at him. They reconciled after much groveling on Dean’s part. Anna and Gabriel were also in it as Cas’ supportive and protective friends. Thank you!

Ask #5 ( @caseyjw1973 ): there’s this fic…#5

Looking for a fic. It's either deleted or on another platform besides AO3. Dean is a rock star/musician. He performs with a mask. Cas is his assistant and he does not like Dean but is a huge fan of the masked musician. Dean ends up giving Cas a necklace as the singer. I started to read it but I didn't save it. Any ideas?

It takes a village to find a lost fic, every reblog is appreciated!

[your-unfriendlyghost]

4, 5, 7, 14

(Okay I really liked these ones fyi)

4. Rank the main 7.

  Ooh tough one. I guess right now, in order of favorite to least favorite, I’d have to go Sodapop, Two-Bit, Steve, Johnny, Ponyboy, Dally, and then finally Darry. But it’s pretty close, and the order changes day by day honestly- I like all of them a lot, y’know? I guess the only one I don’t think about too often is Darry. I still like him and think he’s a really well-written character- I just don’t have a lotta original thoughts about him, is all, whereas I do about all the others. 

5. What are your fave ships?

  In a truly shocking turn of events, I, a frequent draw-er and writer of Stevepop, am going to say Stevepop. I dunno, something about them just makes me happy. Reminds me of like…daydreams I had when I was twelve and crushing on my best friend, and trying to get her attention by doing stupid things and whatever…god I don’t really know how to explain why I like it. Before this fandom I didn’t usually ship things, to be honest. But I guess when I did it’d be stuff like Jesslake in Infinity Train, where it’s the sorta thing that can be seen as platonic or romantic. I reckon Stevepop scratches a similar itch in my brain lol

  But I also really like Marcia x Two-Bit, which I haven’t really talked about here much- They had good chemistry, y’know? I oughta draw something about them sometime

  And then finally there’s my DIY crack-ish ship Soda x Steve x Evie. I like them! It’s all the things I like about Stevepop, plus there’s a cool girl in the mix! I love cool girls! More folks should think about them i think

  I do like other ships okay too- like the Tarry crowd has dragged me in, and sometimes the Jally crowd does too, along with Purly and occasionally Johnnyboy. I’m not an active participant, but when I come across it, I sorta mentally nod and say “nice”, you dig? They’re like…my ship-in-laws. Or like…milk duds and hershey bars- candy I still enjoy, but reach for only after I’m out of milky ways and twizzlers.

7. What are your fave non-romantic relationships? (This can be close friends, familial, enemies or even just acquaintances)

  Two-Bit and Pony! I like them a lot. Their interactions in the book were some of my favorite parts. That line when Two-Bit was worried about Ponyboy using that broken bottle on the Socs…ugh that part was great. I remember reading it for the first time and just sitting there thinking about how much I liked that detail.

  Then on the opposite side of the coin, Steve and Pony lol. I LOVE how Pony doesn’t initially like Dally or Steve, and yet Dally’s chill with Pony…but with Steve the disdain is mutual. Jk I don’t think Steve really hates Pony- but he definitely thinks Pony’s kinda annoying. I like the idea of him watching out for Pony anyways though, like at school especially now that Soda’s not going.

14. Tell us five of your headcanons you basically see as canon

Sodapop has ADHD and maybe (?) dyslexia, but it’s the 60s so he won’t find out till he’s well into adulthood

Marcia gave Two-Bit her real number, and was disappointed when he didn’t call it. I like to imagine they end up remeeting at some point and going out together- even if that’s kinda unrealistic lol

Steve hated Dally when he first rolled into town, because Dally was everything he really wanted to be- tough, cool, and street-smart. And he was also scared of losing Soda, who thought Dally rocked- because Dally’s from New York and rides in rodeos! Eventually they became buddies though when Dally gave Steve a compliment or something. Not even a particularly good one- something like “Hey you ain’t bad at fighting”- just barely enough for Steve to feel like Dally’s earned a little bit of his loyalty. Might write fic/make a comic for this- it’s kinda niche but I think the idea is funny

Steve and Soda secretly listen to the Beach Boys at the DX. They can’t tell anyone because it’s not tuff to like a dumb California band. And Ponyboy would like the Beatles if he listened to them, but he doesn’t, so he won’t realize that until years after Beatlemania has died down

Steve is not just a Ponyboy hater but also a horses-in-general hater. He thinks horses are scary and unpredictable and that cars were invented for a reason. He was secretly relieved when Mr. Curtis stopped Soda from riding rodeos, because seeing Soda on a crazy horse gave him mad anxiety. Pretended he was sad though for Soda’s sake

Thanks so much for asking!! I loved answering these so much lol, definitely let me know your thoughts too on ‘em!

[b4mpyre-k1zz3s]

A fanfic where johnny comes back to knoxville and reconnects with his first love because their parents are close? I love spice southern romance!

Southern-Sweet

When a chance encounter reunited Y/N with her high school sweetheart turned movie star, what will she do when he reveals he still has feelings for her?

Johnny Knoxville X Fem!Reader

(Angst, Fluff)

2k Words

Warnings: Highly suggestive content, flirting, slight enemies to lovers, alcohol, car sex, underage drinking, skinny dipping

An: Thank you so much for the request! I realize I haven’t written for Johnny in quite a while, but my fics featuring him happen to do very well so who knows! I had a really fun time with this one because of all the drama- the little silent interactions and just how much goes unsaid between these two! Anyways, thank you for the requests and please keep sending them!

Johnny finally had an obligation to return home. A few weeks ago, his mom dropped him a line and said that his folks were throwing a party for somebody’s graduation or retirement, and that she would really love it if he stopped by. He’s got a big family, so he didn’t really ask any questions as she went on and on, “Oh, all your aunts and uncles’ll be there! You can finally meet Lynne’s boy, and that nice neighbor girl’s comin’ over too- I know how well the two’a you got along…”

He knew it all too well. The memory wasn’t so much sore as it was tender, similar to the smattering of ever present bruises on his body- the ones that either didn’t heal or were quickly replaced after the old ones faded. He shouldn’t be this caught up on a girl he dated in high school now that he’s gotten on with his adult life, but every now and then, in the space between the nights of wild drinking and much more subdued, hungover mornings, there you were. The idea of seeing you again made Johnny feel as if someone poured gasoline down his throat and crammed sparks in his stomach, so much so that for a good second, the thought occurred to him to make up some halfhearted excuse- some movie premiere or awards show he had to be at. But I mean, come on; that’s his mama you’re talking about. Sighing a little, he conceded, “Alright, I’ll see ya there mom. Love ya…”

It was one of those classy backyard affairs, with people sitting around fold-up card tables under shade from rented pop-up white gazebo tents; where the food was served in disposable aluminum trays with bug nets and everyone was so excited to see everyone. Especially Johnny- no, PJ. They all wanted to talk about their PJ’s big break in Hollywood. From where you sat far away from the commotion, you could pick up on little bits of the chatter through the dense air. One of his sisters, drunk and swaying, slung an arm around his shoulders, “Ah! I remember when you were throwin’ yourself outta your playpen, an’ look at you now! Not much’s changed, right?” Oh, and how they laughed… ”PJ- have you been readin’ what they say about you in those tabloids?” Johnny laughed wryly, giving Aunt Maureen a dismissive wave, “Oh, I just let em’ talk! No use in settin’ the record straight when they’re just gonna come up with somethin’ else tomorow…” He was the warm little center of everything. You didn’t want to say you resented him, but there was still animosity that hung heavy in the air between you two- this constant, low pitch cicada call in your ear. Here he was, larger than life PJ, charming and carousing as usual, running off to Hollywood to chase his dreams. And you stayed in Knoxville.

As the evening drew on and you began mingling among your respective circles, you would find yourself intermittently catching his gaze across the party and vice versa, never getting the chance to talk to each other face to face outside of those sidelong glances. Occupied with catching up with a couple distant relatives you were pretty sure you’d never met before, your ears perked up when you heard someone clear their throat behind you, so you turned around and suddenly, he was just…there. “Hey, Y/N! It’s been a while…”

“Yeah, Hollywood- it has.” Johnny Knoxville, the lovey-dovey, southern drawl, boy next door as he gets painted by every person that interviews him, tugged you off to the side- to the dark little corner of the party near the untouched jug of iced tea that was forgone for the BYOB booze. The cheerful sounds of the party faded into white noise as guilt settled in, but Johnny’s expression only faltered for a second before he covered it up with that grin, “I really think we should reconnect sometime, you know? I’m gonna be in town for a few more days…Maybe we could grab a coffee sometime?” Didn’t he have some model chick to screw? Or a Budweiser commercial shoot he needed to be up early for? What the hell was he doing with you?

Shifting on your feet, your lips pressed into a thin line as you got to the core of what he was dancing around, cutting through the warm, honeysuckle sweet air with your words, “Cmon, tell me what it’s really about.” You shot him a smirk that was just shy of joking, “D’you wanna fuck? Is that how you ask fr’it over in California?” He let out one of those dry, phony, coving up nerves laughs as he hand flinched to the back of his neck, a nervous habit of his you were all to familiar with, “Guess I’m not as, uh- slick as I thought I was bein’, ma’am…” Even through the darkness, you could see the blush that dappled his cheeks, the shy little spark in his eye as you called him out- peeled away his layers like the skin of a stone fruit leaving him raw and something more…human. Maybe you found something more than satisfaction in that. “Make it drinks and I’ll say yes.” That searching, almost desperate look in his eyes fading, you conceded before turning on your heel, “You have my number.” And that’s what you left him with.

Oh, this is the woman he remembered…All of a sudden, Johnny was PJ again: the same teenage boy who asked you to the school dance, which you two ditched to get drunk behind the school because it bored you to death- and you were still that girl that talked him into going skinny dipping in the creek, which he still thinks back fondly on even though you had a pretty close brush with the cops and had to hide out in a woodshed for a couple hours. And Johnny realized, standing there alone, in a dim corner of that backyard party he didn’t even really wanna be at, that no matter how far life takes him, some things- some people, you just can’t shake. “What a lady…”

What Sam Huston is to Texas and Tony Soprano to New Jersey, Johnny Knoxville is to Tennessee: that perfect archetype of the American south. Tonight, he really looked the part, with the way his rough, work-calloused palm swallowed the Miller High Life he was nursing. He mused idly, kind of struggling to make conversation with the way dull tension radiated off of you in all directions, “God, this takes me back…” After a while, and thank god for it, the booze seemed to corrode away the wall you had put up between the two of you, and within the hour, your words lost any critical edge. You went from dry small talk to something a little more personal. Taking a swig of your drink, you glanced him up and down, noting the way the yellowed lights of the bar and his LA tan made him look like he was glowing, “How’s Hollywood?”

That man didn’t belong in a city like that…In that black t-shirt that’s just a little too tight, riding up to flash that shiny, proud belt buckle. The most perfect specimen of that enigmatic, reckless spirit in captivity. The way you saw it, he was just so rough around the edges, like unsanded wood- too wild for the red carpet but too perfect to come back home. Judging by the way he sighed and glanced down at the sticky bar top when you asked that question, you had a feeling he knew it, “Well… It’s Hollywood.” He sighed, glancing around the bar as if he were trying to etch this image in his mind, “Gettin’ paid’t fall down an’ get hit in the nuts’s fun an’ all, but…” The rest went unsaid until you opened your mouth.

“You ever think about me?” Swallowing beer that now felt like molasses going down his throat, Johnny paused, trying to find the words to sum up how he felt. “All the time…” The impact of those words falling from his own lips hit him harder than that bull last week. More than he should, Knoxville thought about you; in ways he would never admit. It's a little pathetic to still be hung up on your sweetheart from twenty years ago at this age. But you couldn’t deny that his sudden reappearance had rekindled some desires in you as well. “You’re only here till tomorrow, right?” you asked, continuing after he gave you a solemn nod, and it was like the words, lubricated by booze, came out without you thinking, “I’m gonna be honest with you, PJ. I haven’t been able t’stop thinkin’ about you since you showed up- and now, we’re sittin’ here, at the bar…” Years had gone by and you didn’t give this man a second thought, but the moment he stumbles back into your life, all you could think about was how badly you wanted to grab him by the collar and yank him close enough that you could see the little strands of silver dotting his hairline that weren't there the last time you saw him- close enough you could smell his Right Guard and the same cheap shampoo he used in high school and kiss him.

You wanted to kiss him. That was a turning point to this whole thing. Shooting you a sidelong glance, Johnny’s voice slipped into a low murmur and everything else faded into the background, “Why don’t we do it one more time? For old time’s sake, I mean…My car’s parked outside.” Wait, was he asking what you thought he was asking? Was he really offering to fuck you in his beater pick up in the parking lot? Charged, beer scented silence buzzed between the two of you until you broke it, “We couldn’t…” Leaning in to practically whisper in your ear, Knoxville’s much larger hand slipped over top of where yours rested on the bar, “We could.”

“We could…” And all of a sudden, something snapped in you and the dynamic flipped. Grasping Johnny’s hand in one of yours and snatching your purse with the other, you began to lead him out of the bar, squeezing past other patrons. Now, it was his turn to be the one getting all flustered and blushing, chuckling nervously at your forwardness as he half tripped over his own feet, “Wait- are we really doin’ this?” Warm air dense with diesel fuel and humidity hit you when you made it outside after what felt like forever and that shimmer in your eye when you looked back at him reminded Knoxville, no- PJ, that you were still that woman he fell in love with so many years ago. A smirk crossed your face as he led you through the gravel parking lot toward where he parked, “Oh, we’re doing this!”

Once he got done fumbling with his keys, the two of you tumbled into the front seats- yes, seats. Hands clawed at clothing and in that span of time, Johnny had apparently taken his glasses off because when you eventually straightened yourself out, you were straddling his lap and he was gazing up at you with an awestruck look on his face and those dark, sweet eyes of his glimmering- you know, like those handsome men you see on the covers of paperback romance novels just before checkout at a general store. Knoxville was having you- no, taking you, in his car like this. It felt like a cruel trick his mind conjured up to torture him, and that any second he’d wake up from this dream with his boxers glued to his left leg. His hands rested on your waist as he stared up at the way moonbeams silhouetted your face, and you both just sat there for a moment before you very quietly reached into the center council where those sunglasses were haphazardly tossed and grabbed them, placing them on yourself, “I’m keepin’ these.” That signature, crooked smile spreading across his face, PJ breathlessly chuckled, “Alright, country girl…One last ride?”

[pikahlua]

so, I dunno if you typically answer questions like this, as it seems like most of your Asks are related to dissecting the manga, but!

in your opinion, what's the best way to write a post-canon fic without getting wrapped up in keeping it loyal to the still-unfolding story?

for context: i'm writing a (potentially long) post-war-arc fic at the minute, but seeing as how the arc is still ongoing, I'm finding it challenging to not stop and rewrite and every time i learn something new. perhaps this is a stupid problem to have lmao, but you seem so good at untangling the MHA narrative threads, so I guess I'm just curious if you have any tips for folks trying to weave 'em in our own way?

thanks in advance, and thanks for all your hard work in general <3

Aww I love this ask!

So if you think about it, there are plenty of great post-canon fanfics out there that were written without the full context of the series. The lack of information those stories have about the end of MHA does nothing to hurt those fics.

You have several options really. You can commit to adapting your story in future chapters to what may happen in the MHA canon as it goes, but that's a pretty difficult path to take. I started my fanfic based on the assumption we would eventually learn AFO's real name, but now I'm realizing I'm going to have to come up with a solution to the possibility he may have no other name. You could pick a cutoff point in MHA and write a story that doesn't rely on any information that might come later. You could write based on an alternate set of events to fill in the blanks so that your story is canon-adjacent and divergent. In any case, you have to accept the fact that you're writing a story before the source material has ended.

The real question you have to ask yourself is: what does "keeping it loyal" mean to you? I'd advise you to remember that, no matter what, you're not writing something that will be part of the official canon. That gives you a lot of space to move around. If you try to stick too rigidly to the canon when you don't know how MHA ends yet, then ask yourself what your story is even about in the first place. If your story is so up-in-the-air right now that the important beats in it could change at the drop of a hat depending on what happens in the canon, then you don't have a story; you just have an idea. There's nothing wrong with that per se. Plenty of authors write without knowing where their story is going or how it ends yet.

My suspicion though is that's not your problem. I'm guessing that you're just worried about small details or references to events in the canon that may incidentally occur in your story. To the best of your ability I would advise that you don't worry about such things. Just write KNOWING you will do that. It's a feature of fanfic to do so, not a bug. Anyone reading your fanfic will know that.

So now I come back to the question about what does "keeping it loyal" mean? I am writing an AU fanfic. I have to ask myself often what I care about when it comes to "keeping it loyal" because AUs have the potential to diverge so far from the canon material they're practically their own original stories. In this case, "keeping it loyal" to me is about the characters. When I write these characters, are they behaving in the way I would expect them to in the canon? I've chosen major events in my characters' backgrounds to make them behave similarly to how they would in canon because to me, the appeal of an AU is in seeing how my favorite characters would behave in a new environment. By extension, I've also chosen some events to happen in my fanfic that maintain similar themes to the canon. My characters may have to change some from their canon counterparts based on the specific events that happen to them, but there is a core vision of the canon in my heart I always try to come back to.

It's a lot easier to keep that distance between my story and the MHA canon because I'm writing an AU, and that helps me to answer your question because the obvious things my story and the canon have in common are the characters and the story themes. Those two elements would be my answer to you. The line becomes grayer when you're writing a story set in-universe to the canon. My best advice is to not get caught up in those details. It's far more important that you write and get out your ideas. You can always come back and edit things later, EVEN AFTER PUBLISHING. That's the forgiving nature of fanworks. That said, I personally think canon-divergent/alternate canon stories are supremely underrated, so I would embrace the label. It's up to you if you want to do that or just try to adapt to the canon as you go, but IT'S OKAY if your story doesn't completely match up to the canon. It doesn't make your story any less loyal to the source material so long as you maintain that integrity in other ways. No one is reading fanfic because they expect it to be a rehashing of the exact events in MHA anyways. They're expecting something new, something additional, whether it's an embellishment, a soliloquy, or an entirely alternate set of events.

Just write what's good for your story right now, and everything else is incidental.

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

Hiya, I feel like I’ve not been doing as much analysis in here recently and I realise that’s probably why most of you follow me so sorry about that, I have quite a lot of ideas but the analysis posts tend to take a long time to write and so I thought I’d do a quick poll to see what you guys would prefer I focus on :)

My intention is to do all of these at some point but if I know which one people are most interested in then it gives me something to focus on

Explanation of options beneath cut

1) I’ve posted a quote-by-quote analysis of chapters 2, 3, and 4 of Six of Crows and have started but not yet fully written one of chapter 5 so I’d love to carry that on and I would also be happy to go back to chapter one if anyone wanted to read that. I love writing these and I would also say that my Crooked Kingdom Bathroom Scene analysis post is quite similar to these ones since I went quite by quote for the second part of that analysis.

2) Fairly self explanatory I guess but I have a lot of asks that have been sitting in there for a long time now and I’m so sorry to have kept people waiting

3) I have talked about minor characters in detail within posts, such as Rojax and Alys, and I have written a full analysis on Bajan but I think it would be really interesting to do a fully structured series on minor characters, you guys could vote for who you wanted next, and also being able to expand in more detail than I have done before on some of these folks might be really fun

4) Honestly I expect this will continue alongside anything else anyway because I feel like there’s always more to discover in these books and I’m always realising something new, it’s wonderful

Also: would people be interested if I brought my fan-written Soc spinoff script back? I had so much fun writing it but I’ve had a lot in and been focused on writing my fic so I’ve not written anything beyond the first two parts I already posted, but I really love the idea so yeah if anyone’s interested I’m more than happy to bring that back.

Thanks guys! 🖤

[alpydk]

How do you do that? (Fanfic writing)

I've not seen many of these posts. I always see a "well the words come in my head and I just do." So I'm going to be me and write too much and tell you how my work process is for writing and how I write the stuff I do. Good? Good. - Warning - This is a long post.

Step 1! The idea!

The best stories are written in truth. So if you have something you've experienced, adapt it and get it down. 1, it's therapeutic. 2, you can channel your own emotions and experience into it. It's more real when there is something behind it. Take f.x The Moment - a lot of my personal experiences and trains of thought went into that and it gives the character in it a lot more life.

"she would sit alone in her tent, her legs pulled close to her chest, her eyes on her pack comparing the pros and cons of the act, before eventually she would move to the campfire where her allies would act as her unknown protectors." - I've done this with the pros and cons and eventually just sticking around people. Real experience = More relatable to the reader.

Other ideas come from common tropes you see in movies, tags I've seen on Ao3 which light something in me, scenes in movies that I've loved and just a vivid imagination that's very dramatic. Seriously folks, write down your daydreams.!

Step 2! Planning!

For poems, don't plan and do very little editing. Some will probably hate that. I'm expecting Jourdane to be biting the bars of her cage at that statement, but the best poems just flow from the heart (At least in my case.) For fics, I grab a pen and jot down an outline. You've seen my pokemon book and the many pages with random notes like "FEELINGS, Comfort smut." - This gives me my basis, the start middle and end, what characters will be involved and the dots I need to connect. I'll usually also include some inner perspectives I want to put in. f.x "Guilt/Fear/Control" - Sort of character themes. This reminds me of the character motives and reactions so they don't go off as I'm writing.

Now, this doesn't mean the plan will change as I write. It has done in the past, but that just means a new load of notes is written.

Step 3! The writing!

This is the part you all really want. I'm going to use some of As you Wish - To break it down.

Descriptions

When it comes to fanfic, especially in canon, we already have a set idea of the characters and locations in our mind. So I spend very little time on character and location descriptions unless they matter in the scene.

"Pale fingers spun the wedding ring mindlessly on the wooden table of the tavern as the now owner of the band spoke." -

Pale fingers, that's a signature of Astarion, could also talk about hair colour, red eyes, key features. For Gale, it's usually robes, dark eyes, beard. The wedding ring (most associate with gold or silver but it is not important, mind fills it in). The wooden table in the tavern, brain will hopefully put us in the Elfsong or similar - but again, not really important, as this is not what the scene or story is about. I stick to what is needed, or it just becomes more about details than the message. Dialogue

Start with the canon dialogue. Do not be ashamed to use it to give you an idea of how characters talk. You see in the game that Gale is very wordy. I am not. So what I do is take a standard line and then 'Gale it up' - What I mean is I go onto OneLook - Take a word and replace it with something more intellectual. Gale does not say "I'm sorry" very often. He says "My apologies" He doesn't say "we're talking about."; he says "We're discussing..." - You get the idea. Include character actions they commonly do. Astarion in mine spends a lot of time scoffing and smirking. Flamboyant hand actions and the like. Karlach speaks loudly, Gale gestures and gazes. Emotions A lot of thinking, a lot of wondering, a lot of feeling. So much character introspection put into non dialogue parts. Either in the form of some internal monologue. "Of sorts... Of course, he’s said it like that," or questions the character would ask themselves. "What would happen with it tomorrow as they took on their final battle with the Netherbrain?" Combine with genuine ways the characters would question these things, how a real person would act. So many fics I've read either become very 2 dimensional with their characters. They spend so long on direct dialogue or physical descriptions that they miss what makes a person a person, and it's this inner soul that speaks more than anything. It's the doubts and the worries and the love and the happiness we FEEL. It needs to be written in too. Take, for example, Gale - Man is filled with self doubt, crushed under the weight of his past with Mystra. He may act outwardly confident, but inside he's not. These things need to be included to get it right.

Poetic Language

The analysis part... I like to call a spade a spade. If I've used a metaphor or something, it is exactly how it's meant to be used. There is no speculation of meaning, no "but the author is possibly conveying a sense of loss through the description of the red carpet." - There's a place for that and I'm sure that's what makes other people's fics considerably better than mine, but I don't have the time or longing for that. My comparisons are very obvious, again so the reader can relate. "What was marriage if not chains to bind?" - See? Very obvious way of thinking that marriage is a prison, and it not only includes the emotions of the character's introspective thoughts but also some of that well-used billedsprog (picture language, can't think of the English word - am not schooled enough).

Anyway, metaphors and such - Don't gatekeep your work trying to be intellectual. Reading, especially fanfic, is there to be enjoyed by everyone, so as a writer just keep it simple.

Step 4! Editing!

I personally used ProWritingAid for spelling and grammar checking. Grammarly is also a good one but very pushy in its premium advertising.

I try to avoid using repeat words too often, again see OneLook for alternatives. I also read my fic through on word first checking for errors, then copy and paste to Tumblr where I read again. The font and layout is different, so I can spot more that I might have skimmed over the first time. If I want to be sure, then I might go out for a few hours and then read through again later and will surely find something. If you want to be really sure, find a beta reader (I personally don't because I can't handle the critique unless I know the other person is very skilled and trustworthy, even then it's my work, not theirs.) Congratulations, you have just written a fanfiction!

Share it on Tumblr, share it on Ao3 (or your chosen site), get depressed when it does not get the traction you want. This is the writer's way.

I hope this helps at least one person to join the fanfic writing community. Honestly, just write and be creative. Don't doubt yourself, don't think you're not good enough, just put words on paper and go for it. There is a reader out there for every writer. You just have to find each other.

[kedreeva]

Ked, as an experienced writer in fandoms, what would you do if you'd see a fic that's eerily similar to another one by anon author? I really have the feeling second fic basically stole the first fic's premise and most of the events with some twists, it's very specific so hardly the same idea occuring to two people, and the style is too different and the second one is published under a username. And it doesn't refer to the other fic existing at all.

Honestly, if you're asking what I, personally, would do, if I, specifically, saw this?

Unless there's big chunks of straight up plagiarized words, or they are trying to profit from it in a way that would do harm, I'd personally mind my own business. I have told folks before that if they don't like something in a fic (including my own), they can go write their own fic, and that includes their own version of the story. Yes, even if it takes the same turns mine did, yes even if they have the same kinds of conversations, yes even if it's basically the same story written in their style. I have seen fics that are straight up MY fics, rewritten, and I cannot stress enough how much I do not personally care as long as they're not trying to pass my actual written word off as their own, or profiting in a way harmful to me.

If you're asking what YOU should do, I can't answer that. There are people who do not feel the way I feel. There are people who get very angry when someone transforms a transformative work. I understand that it can be a very sensitive thing to some people, I'm just not one of them. You should do what you feel is appropriate to the situation. Maybe start by asking the actual author (if it's "anon" vs "orphaned" then the fic is still attached to the "anonymous" author's acct, you just can't see that... but they can, they will get comments, unlike with orphaned fics) what they would want in such a situation, and/or at best let them know about the other story and let the author decide what to do.

[songbirdtales]

Flirting with Disaster (AstarionxTav oc)

Authors note:

Hey folks, this is a part 2. Part 1 is here. I know I said this was going to be nsfw but ngl the more I play this game the less overtly horny i get for Astarion and the more I just want to wrap him in a weighted blanket and make sure he's comfortable. So I guess never expect me to keep a promise lmfao. I have so many more fics half written in my drive and it's just becoming heavier romance. Anywho, game spoilers ahead. TW: death, head injury, eye injury

“That rotten bitch!” Karlach growled. “No wonder she’d talk about a kid like that. She’s fucking evil.”

Gale was deep in reading the book that outlined the ritual of thorns. “So, what will we do about this?” His eyes only rose from the page to look at Tav. He defaulted to them instantly, his trust in them incredibly strong despite any real reason. Astarion could barely keep from rolling his eyes at the sight.

“We go back to the grove and out her.” They said simply before looking to Astarion. “Astarion and Gale will steal the idol of Silvarus and stop the ritual while-” They looked to Karlach. “Karlach and I are going to have a little talk with Kahga.” Tav looked back to Gale. “Once you two have the idol, you’ll probably want to join us. I can’t imagine there won’t be a fight.”

“And when exactly are we launching our attack?” Astarion asked as he crossed his arms.

“Tonight. We'll use the dark to our advantage.”

He scoffed. “You want me to steal a statue that’s basically functioning as a spot light?” His voice dripped with sarcasm. “Yes, that’ll be so inconspicuous.”

“You said it yourself.” Tav put their hands on their hips. “It’s not in a spotlight, it is the spotlight.  Turn off the light and everyone’s in the dark.”

He hadn’t thought of it like that. His lips pursed as he thought on it. “...Fine. We’ll turn off the lights.” He agreed begrudgingly. “But do save us some fight, won’t you?” Astarion pouted. He didn’t like the idea of being out of the fight. He had suggested killing the druid, after all.

“Of course, darling.” Tav grinned, teasing him with his own tricks, letting their voice drop and exaggerating their voice in a soft mimic of his own. A light stab that only seemed to spur him on like a challenge. 

A gentle shove at their shoulder as Astarion looked away was the only response they got, the others snickering at their banter. It was nice, he had to admit. He almost smiled along with them. This was what it was like to have friends, wasn’t it? He could almost remember.

Night fell over the grove as the party set themselves in position. The children had seen Tav and the others pass. The tiefling bard had whispered one word to them, ‘hide’, and the word spread throughout the rest of the refugees.

Astarion was already focused on his target, watching the druids as they worked for a gap in sight. He was so focused he didn’t notice Tav’s worried face. Their soft, “Be careful,” snapped him from his trance. He didn’t get the chance to respond before they were gone, only then did he wish he’d said it back. That unnamed feeling in his stomach twisted and sank until it took his throat with him. It felt as if he was being choked no matter how deep he breathed. 

“Hey,” Gale whispered to get the vampire’s attention. He had a similar look of worry to his face, but he tried to offer a reassuring smile. “They’ll be fine.” He’d nod to the idol and Astarion’s focus was right back where it was needed.

With one last heavy breath out, Astarion cast invisibility on himself and slipped into the ritual. Green trails of light passed and surrounded him as he got close to the ground, trying not to give himself away in the displaced magic. Someone did notice, but before they could speak, Gale cast Sleep on the druid, the wizard spotting the rogue.

Neither of them could help as Astarion’s form began to reveal itself the closer he got to the idol until a clear silhouette was in view just as he grabbed it. As soon as he lifted the statue, the lights went out. The druid rushed towards the center of the ritual when a portal opened behind Astarion, Gale’s hand reaching to pull him through the dimension door and right to the door to the druid’s chambers. 

The rest of the order seemed to be swarming in the dark, confused and disoriented. They all gathered around where the statue and Astarion had been just a moment before, but none of them looked to where Gale and Astarion now stood in plain view with the idol in hand. 

Astarion tucked the statue into his bag and flash Gale a fanged smile as he lead the Wizard into the druid’s chambers. “Well done.” He couldn’t help but hum. Gale might not have been able to see the smile well in the dark, but he could hear the admiration and surprise in Astarion’s voice. A light flush came to the wizard’s cheeks as he smiled in turn. Even Gale could get caught in Astarion’s charm it seemed.

Tav and Karlach had entered the druid chambers to yet another argument between Kahga and her peers. “This is the oak father's will.” Her own words would be her undoing. Tav stalked down the steps behind her, eyes burning with hatred. The scars around their mouth glowed violet as their words put Dissonant thoughts in Kahga’s head.

“You can lie to yourself, but you cannot lie to your god.” Tav and Karlach each looked like they were ready to sprout wings and drag the druids to Avernus. The magic in Tav’s lips died as they looked among the other druids. “You should take a look at this.” They offered the book detailing the rite of thorns to the other druids as Kahga’s face turned bright red in anger, her hands clenched.

She could see the letters wedged in the pages and knew she was caught. “You thief-” She hissed, practically spitting as she yelled. “You devil!”

Tav’s otherworldly eyes snapped to her, a fanged smile pulled across their face, the magic flaring on their lips again. “For the first time, you’re right. There wasn’t a devil in this grove until I got here, and I might have never come, but I’m a collector of wicked hearts.” The fear Tav’s words instilled was beginning to make the druid lose her mind, the psychic damage clear as she lost focus in her vision and began to sway and twitch. Tav got right in her face, their performance peak horror to a racist. “A dark druid would be the perfect addition.”

Kahga tripped, falling back onto the ground as Tav burst into laughter. “Was that too much? Did I scare you?” Tav heckled Kahga as the eyes of her peers turned from reverence to condemnation as they read her letters. Tav’s laughter finally died and they sighed, looking down at her with an upturned nose. “Gods, you’re pathetic.” 

Kahga growled as she got to her feet and readied her weapon. The few still on her side joined her against the rest. The rats Kahga had been keeping revealed themselves as halflings shadow druids and took up arms with Kahga.

Karlach charged the shadow druids as Tav took their lute from their back and began to play. The driving beat of their strums built waves of thunder before booming, pushing back the two druid that had joined Kahga. 

“You take care of Kahga, I will handle my brethren,” Rath called. Tav glanced to him to nod only to be met with Kahga’s staff when they looked back. Tav barely avoided her staff, practically dancing out of the way to Kahga’s dismay but her next strike was true. The heavy end of the staff clipped Tav in the side of the head, sending the tiefling staggering back into the wall.

Kahga rushed them, bringing her staff up to crush Tav’s neck into the wall. They dropped their lute, the dissonant sound of wood cracking on rock and the disharmonious ring of strings joined the fight. Tav had just caught the staff before it could really hit, their arms pressed against the wall without leverage to push up. The wood of Kahga’s staff pushed into their larynx as Tav twisted and squirmed, fighting to keep their airway clear.

The smile on the druid’s face was maniacal, the thrill of the impending kill had made her crazed. Tav’s eyes glowed one last time, their lips following suit as the woman was in the ecstasy of her high. “Look at yourself.” The Command broke her frenzy, Kahga’s smile instantly dropping as she was magically compelled to reflect on herself. “He would be so disappointed.” 

Kahga’s strength left her as she took a step back, the thought ratting in her head as the awful realization of her actions settled in. Who was he? Who knew and who really cared if it was Halsin, Sylvanus, or someone else entirely that made Kahga’s mind collapse on itself? Her own reverence crushed her mind in an instant.

A gentle tap on Kahga’s shoulder caused her to snap out of her contemplation and turn casually towards the sensation. As she did, a dagger skillfully slipped into her eye socket. Astarion watched as the realization of what had just happened finally connected in the poor woman’s mind before twisting the blade and pulling it from her head. He’d let Kahga’s body fall to the ground where she’d twitch at his boots, flicking the gore from the blade before flashing a fanged smile at Tav. “Sorry I’m late darling.”

Tav’s breath slowed as the adrenaline subsided, still labored and ragged as they leaned back against the wall. A bloom of red grew in their golden hair as they smiled at him. “That was kind of hot.”

“Is that you or the concussion talking?” He asked as he gently slipped an arm around Tav and pulled them to his chest before they could slide down the wall. They were already so limp, he wasn't shocked at all when they passed out before responding. “Let’s get you back to camp.” He’d say softly before turning his head around to screech. “Karlach!” He’d clear his voice before continuing in a more casual tone. “Would you be a doll?”

As Astarion gathered the valuables off the shadow druids’ body, Gale gathered their praises from Rath, and Karlach gathered their leader from the floor to let Nettie patch up. Astarion had just picked Kahga’s body clean when he picked up Tav’s broken lute with a frown. He had no idea how to fix this, and they’d just picked apart a good lute earlier that day. He carried it with them as the group left and were met with a crowd. 

The tieflings had been gathered there by the druids, who still ran around in confusion. Rath calmed the druids down as the tieflings surrounded the group. They were mostly focused on Karlach carrying a lightly patched up Tav in her arms like a bride. So many of them whispered prayers while others offered to bring supplies to their camp. Tav’s kindness towards them brought their kindness in turn, Astarion wasn’t used to seeing such things. 

While all were focused on the stars of the show, Alfira approached Astarion with a meek voice. “Excuse me,” She held a second lute in her hand, one much like her own which clearly hung on her back. “I couldn’t help but see…” She looked down to the broken lute in his hands and offered the spare towards him. “It belonged to my teacher. She’s no need for it now, and it would be a shame if they couldn’t play when they wake up.”

Astarion stared at the girl in pure confusion. All of the kindness he’d been witnessing was so foreign to him, and to be directly confronted with it was almost overwhelming. Where had all this kindness been? Had it been out here all along, and just… not for him? He couldn’t wrap his mind around why this girl would give away something clearly so sentimental to her. Still, he took the instrument. A hesitant and still confused “Thank you,” fell from his lips to his own surprise. “I’m… sure they’ll appreciate it.” The uncertainty in his voice was obvious. He was purely guessing at how to respond to something like this, but as they left the sacred pool a selfish relief washed over him. One less problem for him to fix, he thought.

When the party returned to camp Karlach brought Tav to rest in Shadowheart’s tent. She stayed with the two as Shadowheart spent the night tending to Tav’s injuries. Hours had passed and both women had fallen asleep near their patient. By then the rest of the camp had begun to slow, finishing their business and finding their bedrolls for the night. 

A calming cool in the warm night brought Tav’s eyes open. Their blue eyes blinked open slowly before turning their eyes around their surroundings. Tav hadn’t spent much time in Shadowheart’s tent, but they recognized the colors of the canvas once they noticed the girls outside. They both looked exhausted, they must have been worried…

Tav took their time sitting up, their head still pounding from the injury. A hand came to the spot, fingertips gently caressing the freshly healed skin. Their long hair had been undone from its bun at some point, strands falling over their shoulders as they looked around for their things. They weren’t hard to find as Tav turned around, but notably their lute had been replaced. The broken one was simply gone and the gifted one there. A smile pulled across their lips as they looked over the instrument, a pleasant surprise.

Everyone else seemed accounted for, even Gale, either tucked in their tents or settling up by the fire. Yet, as Astarion readied to take his watch he noticed an absent bedroll in Shadowheart’s tent, her patient absent along with the gifted lute. Curious, Astarion slipped into the woods. He wandered for a spell before the sound of finger plucked strings met his pointed ears.

He followed the melancholic waltz to its source, the strings keeping a simple and steady pulse as Tav hummed a melody over top. He left them in their trance as they worked through the tune with their eyes closed. Their voice was infused with magic, a soft glow coming from the scars down their chin as they drew in the night with yearning want. Their mind was open as the tadpole thrummed with the music and radiated with the memories and emotions that inspired the tune. When the open feelings reached him, Astarion couldn’t help but peer.

He saw a handsome half elf through Tav’s eyes, a set of lavender eyes with a scar tracing the upper ridge of the left brow staring back as they lay beside each other, fully clothed, his large calloused fingers brushing gently between their own. Astarion could feel that awful pit in his stomach open up, that unnamed feeling, as if he were being gutted followed by a tightness in his chest. As his mind melted with Tav’s he could find their names for the same sensations; fear, desire, longing, and- He shook his head to brush the feeling off, pulling his mind away sharply as the connection overwhelmed.

It was only his retreat Tav had noticed, their eyes now locked on him through the dark like a deer alert of a predator, two balls of devil fire burning in the night.

“I was worried when you weren’t in your tent.” He said with a weak smile, trying to save face but Tav had seen right through him.

“I thought we asked first.” They scolded him sternly.

Fear twisted his gut, he knew that’s what it was now, but why? “Sorry,” He relented. “I was expecting you to be thinking of Karlach.” His words didn’t seem to ease the tiefling, so he just asked. “Who was that?”

Tav relaxed in defeat. He didn’t need to wait them out long, Tav was unable to stay angry at him. “My paladin,” The longing in their words was on par with the melodies they’d played.

The paladin they'd mentioned when the subject of lovers came up? His confusion returned as his eyes narrowed. “I don’t understand.” He admitted angrily in a rare moment of honesty, his eyes cold but curious. “I thought you said you left him.” He was almost angry now. ���If you felt like that about him, why would you leave him?”

Tav blinked a few times, caught off guard at how plainly he asked. They wondered if he’d understand the truth. “Because I was changing him for the worse.” He could see they truly believed it, but he couldn’t. “He would have thrown his oath away for me, and I couldn’t let him. It was too important. The world needs real heroes like him.” The more they spoke, the more there was something… off. There was something in the fear he’d felt through them that was different from the fear he felt right now, a missing piece of the story that would dissolve this fairytale paladin into something… else. That had to be the case. He refused to believe Tav was capable of changing someone for the worse. He was proof. 

He dropped the subject, tilting his head as he leaned against a tree. “Your new girlfriend wanted you to have that. Seems you’ve really gotten in her head.”

Tav looked down to the lute relaxing in their lap. “This is why it’s good to make friends.” They said with a cocky smile before it softened, their eyes stayed on the instrument, studying its wear. They were still getting used to the feel of it. “This… was very kind of her.” They said softly. “I’ll take good care of it.”

“I suppose you were right about friends,” He conceded with a sarcastic sigh. “They just let me strip anything of worth off that druid woman.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a gold pendant, offering it out to them. “Thought you’d like to add it to your dragon’s horde.”

Tav stood, setting the lute down gently where they’d sat. It only took a few steps for Tav to stand in front of Astarion. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but Astarion’s face slanted in a curious furrow when Tav turned their back to him. “Can you help me put it on?”

He’d not noticed the bandages on their hands until they reached to gather their hair. They pulled the mass of gold strands aside to make it easier to reach around their neck. He let the golden chains pull snug against their neck, the deep amethyst set down the chains to hang delicately down the wearer’s neck was pressed firmly into their collar bone and then relaxed. It was just enough to be felt, a gentle squeeze. He really did know how to tease them.

Tav’s tail flicked at his leg as he lingered just behind them, his cool breath on the tip of their ear. He clasped the pendant before letting a hand trail down the back of their shoulders. “There.” His voice was a deep, intensional sultry sigh. He saw an opportunity to secure himself while they doubted their paladin… but he hesitated, his mind quickly lost in thoughts of the curves of their neck and jaw, enjoying the view of them. That was all it took for his opportunity to lead the scene to be lost.

Tav looked down at the gold set stone before turning to look over their shoulder at him. He hadn’t expected the look on their face, the softness in their eyes, or the words that came with them. “Can I kiss you?” They whispered back so incredibly soft that he wasn’t sure they’d spoken or if he’d just read their lips. This was not an intentionally sultry whisper or a performance of any kind; their soft question was like a whisper between actors on a stage in an improvised moment.

It was only then that it dawned on Astarion that he was exactly where he’d wanted to be earlier that day. Now, instead of Alfira, he was the co-star being seduced on stage by the lead. He had been struck down before he could even pounce, the sharpened steak of Tav’s charm piercing his heart and killing something in him he’d not notice for some time. He never stood a chance. He’d blame magic later but there was no magic in their voice, no influence from the weave or the hells, he whispered “Yes” in turn because he wanted to say yes. He wanted to kiss them.

Tav turned to face Astarion, the two eye to eye as Tav reached a hand for his cheek. His head relaxed into their calloused fingers, tilting his head as Tav’s turned the other way. They leaned in and kissed him, so gentle and sweet. Is this how they’d kissed Alfira? Their scarred lips were rough against his skin as they pulled at his lower lip just a little when they pulled away. His eyes slowly drifted open to be met with hellion blue, their otherworldly stare gentle and warm.

“You look good in gold.” He whispered against their lips, trying to recover but they didn’t let him. Those pointed claws combed through his white hair as their eyes wandered his face. 

“I prefer silver.” Their nails were so delicate as they tucked a curl behind his pointed ear, tracing up the top of his ear and down the underside to his lobe. 

If Astarion’s heart were still beating it might just skip. A hunger grew in him unlike his want for their blood. He wanted more than blood, more than a kiss even. Shit, he wasn’t supposed to get feelings like this. No, these weren’t feelings, he deluded himself, this was just carnal lust. His simple plan was getting less simple, but if this was his biggest complication, it wouldn’t be the worst. Now he just hoped he’d had a similar effect on them. Astarion advanced sharply into another kiss as Tav’s hands caught the collar of his shirt. He stepped forward, leading them back a step before they both paused. 

Tav’s head pulled back as their hold of his shirt kept him just a breath away. Their eyes stared into his, searching for something in his gaze. For a moment there was nothing else in the world, just two actors on stage, gauging their next moves. He stared back, a spike of fear in him as he wondered if he’d done something wrong. Their face softened as they slowly leaned into him. Soft tugs at his lips eased his hunger some, but he continued to lead them back towards the stump they’d been sitting on earlier.

He sat them down gently before kneeling on the stump, somewhere between getting on top of them and sitting in their lap. Tav’s hands pulled him down, ushering him to melt into them.

[musewrangler]

20 Questions for Writers

Thank you so much for the tag @wendingways I'm FINALLY getting around to it. :D

How many works do you have on AO3?

132

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

2, 962, 169

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Star Wars, Hornblower, Narnia [just one]

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Mirjahaal

Bajur

He Who Sheds His Blood With Me

Forging Ahead

I Felt You In My Bones

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do as much as possible. I appreciate my readers making time to say something. It takes effort on their part and I want them to know I am grateful. Equally, I get lots of fun thoughts from my readers and it's delightful to interact with people. :D

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Oh definitely the fic I could never write. ;D By which I mean---there was a prompt somewhere that said 'the aftermath of a scene you'll never write'. So I knew immediately what that was and ripped my own heart out to write "Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night". Literally, I was ugly crying the whole time. And it convinced me that nope, I can never do this in my 'real' fics if you will. xD

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Hmmm. I am a girl who likes a happy ending. Granted, it's after kark tons of pain and suffering usually xD, but...

I think I'll land on the Dragon Speaker. I could name quite a few others, but I spent more time developing the happy aftermath so that's why I choose it.

8. Do you get hate on your fic?

I've said it before---I have some of the BEST readers. And I've had folks who've disagreed with some of my takes on character or plot, but they are welcome to do so if they are respectful and they are. It produces good conversation and perspective. I can think of one time I had someone actively unpleasant, but let's hear it for delete and block! :D

9. Do you write smut?

Nope.

10. Do you write crossovers?

No. It's just not my cup of tea.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of and I hope not. Obviously, a lot of us have similar ideas----writing is just like that. But I don't think anyone has taken my work directly. That kind of thing does get me riled up because I know the work all of us creators have done to make these stories. Don't do it, kids.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes I have and it's very fun! I have a very industrious and delightful reader who has translated a lot of my work into Russian. :D

13. Have you ever co-written a fic?

I have a few times. :D

14. What‘s your all-time favourite ship?

Depends on context here. I don't read or write fics for just romance. I need purpose beyond the couple if you will. If we're talking within Star Wars then canonically it's Han and Leia. If we're going with my own fanfics it's a toss up between Mara and Max Veers and Firmus Piett and Sola Naberrie. ;D If we're talking broad literary ship Benedick and Beatrice from Much Ado About Nothing.

15. What’s the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

WIP I will never finish? What are you talking about?

Genuinely, I hate the idea of abandoning my fics. Just can't. Some of them are taking longer than I had thought, but that's ok. Life happens. I will finish. ;D

16. What’s your writing strengths?

I think I develop character fairly well. I like to have a plot mapped out before I start writing, so I think I do all right with story cohesion and flow. I am a firm believe that you need to care about the characters more than anything else. World building and correct editing are good things, but if no one cares about your characters, it can get boring and readers lose interest.

17. What’s your writing weaknesses?

A good balance of action, description, and dialogue. Dialogue is easy for me and I like the characters interacting. But action and description are very important as well to SEE the scene and I need to work on my descriptive choices. I'm also ridiculously impatient. I want to publish NOW. And this means that perhaps some needed editing or more polish/depth is overlooked. I'm working on that.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

Absolutely. I've used mando'a a lot now in Star Wars. In history AUs I've dabbled a smidge in French and Latin to set the tone a bit. Definitely do your homework whether using a real or fictional language. People notice!! :D

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Haha. So in terms of more serious writing like I'm doing now, it's Star Wars.

But.

I wrote by hand in notebooks during high school for the original Star Trek. Had all kinds of crush on Pavel Chekov. xD We watched the re runs of it and I liked the movies as a kid so....

20. Favourite fic you’ve ever written?

Oh goodness. Can that really be answered? I like them all for vastly different reasons. If we're going for world building then likely Dragon Speaker. If we're going for in depth history fun, then The War in the Shadows. If we're going for fic I saw most clearly in my brain as I wrote and LIVED it, then Showdown at Alliance Ranch. Within the ER verse, quite possibly Fidelity because writing all that courtroom drama and the intense brotherhood of Firmus and Max going through that was just so satisfying.

But over all story? Honestly can't pick just one. Sorry!

Gently tagging @hollers-and-holmes @winterinhimring @kraytwriter @kanerallels

[lostcol]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

tagged by @eusuntgratie 😘

How many works do you have on ao3? 24

What's your total ao3 word count? 195,342

What fandoms do you write for? primarily men's hockey rpf and queer as folk, but I've also written for teen wolf, 911, and cmbyn.

Top five fics by kudos: Catalepsis (britin, qaf) Sick Day (buddie, 911) Open Your Fucking Eyes, Justin (britin, qaf) A Knight in Shining... Clubwear? (britin, qaf) The Great Poxing of 2013 (sterek, teen wolf) okay this is making me sad for my hockey fic 🥲

Do you respond to comments? always! but I don't get many, comparatively, and i produce like two one-shots a year, so it's not hard 😂

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? probably Confrontation (britin, qaf). It's a short, dialogue-only fic of an argument, and there's no resolution.

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? oof I don't know, I tend to write happy endings, so there's a lot of choose from. I have a couple tknp fics that are about them getting together, which always makes for a happy ending, but I'll go with Wildflour (tknp, men's hockey rpf) because it ends mid-hookup, and that's always fun.

Do you get hate on fics? not yet 🙏

Do you write smut? yes! it's not my strong suit and it always takes me forfuckingever to write, but it's in there.

Craziest crossover: I haven't done any. Although a friend and I have (briefly) discussed the possibility of a tknp/firefly crossover, which I think would be amazing if I could wrap my head around the scope of it.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? not that i know of.

Have you ever had a fic translated? nope, but that would be so cool.

Have you ever co-written a fic before? nope. writing is a very *very* casual hobby for me, and I know that it would stress me out to feel like I constantly had to keep with a deadline and/or that i was letting my co-author down.

All time favorite ship? christ, sophie's choice much? Even though it's not the fandom I'm currently writing and reading the most right now, I've got to say britin from qaf. They're so formative for me, and I always come back to them. They're like, the foundational sunshine/grump ship in my world. With tknp a close close second. Currently I'm mostly reading firstprince.

What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will? i'm not really a wip person, I only have the brainpower to have one fic in my head at a time, so i tend to write, finish, post before i start something else (no matter how long it takes goddammit). but I do have some slightly more fleshed out qaf ideas that I may or may not come back to... but since most of them are pretty similar (something bad happens to justin, brian helps him out), I definitely won't write them all. I also have some ideas for fandoms i'll probably never write for again, but then again, never say never.

What are your writing strengths? dialogue. I like writing it probably more than any other part of my fics, and I feel like I'm good at it. Humor, which surprised me when I started writing because I started in the qaf fandom and almost all of my fics there skewed angsty, but I love adding humor in when the situation calls for it and I feel like I can be funny? I hope? 😂

What are your writing weaknesses? oh smut for sure. it takes me FOREVER to write it because I just... I don't know, get bored? I think I just find writing action sequences difficult generally, and what is smut if not action. Also world-building, which is why I tend to stick to very canon or canon-adjacent writing.

Thoughts on dialogue in another language? sure, if it fits the character and situation. I haven't had reason to do it, but I could throw some basic Spanish in or like, single words in other languages, but I'd hate not getting it right so that would hold me back. I do find it annoying as a reader when there's a lot of foreign language dialogue in an english language fic and there's no translation.

First fandom you wrote in? first ever was technically buffy back when I was 14, but that was me writing it with the intent to change the names and pass it off as original fiction for my freshman english class. And I got an A! The first straight-up fic I wrote was for one tree hill. First fandom i was *involved* in and wrote for was qaf.

Favorite fic you've written? oh god why. I can narrow it down to two IF I MUST. First, Catalepsis (britin, qaf), it's my only true multi-chapter fic and at 82k it's my longest fic by like 70k. It took me literal years to finish, I'm super proud of it, and even though it's long I've had multiple comments about people rereading, which is always amazing. And The Great Poxing of 2013 (sterek, teen wolf). I just love it, it's funny and sweet and flirty and the only teen wolf fic I've written. It wasn't planned, I had a flash of inspiration and banged it out in two nights in front of the tv.

tagging @bigassbowlingballhead @madsworld15 @winderlylandchime and anybody else who wants to do it! (sorry if you guys already did it and I missed it, this week's been crazy) 💚

[bacon-sandwich-of-dionysus]

Bloodhound. (A Ghost x AFAB!reader fic)

Act One, Chapter One: No Moksha

Slayyy! We're here! I hope you all enjoy!

For context, the reader is AFAB but I included gender neutral pronouns :).

Ah! I'm so excited, I've never written something like this before!

Apologies in advance for any grammar mistakes, I have proofread this to death but things always slip under the radar. There is also a poll at the end of this for you to choose how this should go- majority vote dictates the direction the reader takes!

Word count: 5,718

Warnings: Strong language, horror elements, mentions of blood

The night you had arrived at the base of the Mexican Special forces, right on the outskirts of the cartel-owned city of Las Almas, the sky was starless, and the weather was muggy. The air had felt heavy, slightly suffocating, so much so that you had this unnerving feeling that the heavens may open any minute now. A storm was going to arrive soon, you just knew it, and that storm would most certainly bring lightning. It was humid after all, and thunderstorms thrived on humidity. You were grateful that you had shelter to retreat into should there be a raucous downpour, and that was all thanks to Kate Laswell. 

The CIA Station Chief had taken pity on your circumstance as a runaway from the Red Room, and thus, elected to temporarily take you under her wing. Once she felt secure that you had removed all implanted trackers, the woman allowed you to take refuge here in the base for the time being. You were briefly- though not properly- introduced to 141 and soon realised that they were in a similar situation, except they weren’t running away from a shadow government organisation. Instead, they apparently were going rogue due to some infighting within their own team and superior. You hadn’t heard the full story, but a few familiar names were dropped and you had an idea of what had happened. Anyways, you didn’t really care, 141 seemed amicable enough and that was all that mattered. You had decided that it was best to keep out of their way, provided they do the same for you. You weren’t looking for trouble, you were just looking for a few moments to breathe. 

Soon, though, you’d change your mind and decide that maybe dipping a toe into some idle conversation and seeing what became of it wouldn’t be a bad idea either. 

“Hey!” A friendly voice called from behind. 

You turned around from where you had been kneeling in front of your rucksack, to see a man with a black mohawk waving at you from a few feet away. He had a friendly face. 

“Hi.” You replied, subtly eyeing him. 

He took a few steps towards you, holding out his hand. 

“I’m Sergeant MacTavish. But most folks call me ‘Soap’.”

You smile. 

“Y/N. I’m Y/N.”

Soap quickly found you had a firm handshake. A very firm handshake. As he pulled away, you spotted him nursing his wrist, drawing it close to his chest as he continued to strike up conversation. 

“Quite a handshake you got there!” He remarked, chuckling. 

“Comes with the training.” You shrugged.

“Training?” Soap asked, “Laswell never mentioned you being military.”

“I’m not military.”

“Ah, I see. So, where are you from, then?”

“That’s classified.”

He nods, almost to himself. Another mystery man on the team. 

“I’m not on the team either.” You said absentmindedly as you turned back to grab your canteen, “I’m just staying here for the moment, I’ll be gone soon.”

When you got up, you noticed Soap was staring at you, mouth hung slightly open. He seemed to have a mixture of expressions going on, one of confusion and another of… surprise. Well, it was more like poorly-hidden shock. 

“What?” You tilt your head to one side, flinging your rucksack over your shoulder.

Did he… He could have sworn he never said that comment aloud. Or… Or maybe he did? Soap mumbled a “nothing”, letting you walk on ahead to the barracks. Sometimes his mouth was three steps ahead of his mind and he was known for occasionally letting things slip that he really should have kept in his head. It could happen in a flash, with Soap not knowing he’d said something stupid until he’d see heads turn and brows furrow. 

“So, how long are you crashing with us, then?” He asked, picking up into a light jog to catch up with you. 

“Uh… I’m not sure. Pretty much however long it takes for Laswell to kick me out?”

You both rounded a corner and entered a long hall lined with beds on either side.

Ah… yeah. This wasn’t ideal. Sure, you had expected to be sharing the sleeping area with one or two other folks, but this looked like the entire base was here. You pull your lips into a thin line. Everyone was here! Everyone. The sounds of idle chatter filled your head as you tried to find an empty bed to claim. You hoped you wouldn’t have to fend anyone off to keep it, not like back in your old living quarters. You think it was when you were about seven when you first realised the laws of that place. Some girl had taken your bed and slept in it and when you tried to nudge her off, she ended up attacking you. Once the fight had ended, she had gifted you with two new scars. In return, you had blessed her with a black eye and no bed for her to sleep in. Luckily, she had found another. However, since then, you had become vigilant about where you slept and what you slept on. 

Which was why it surprised you when you saw Laswell raising her arm and waving at you, before pointing to the bed across from the one she was sitting on. 

You walk down the aisle, occasionally looking at her for reassurance that you were headed in the right direction. Soon enough, you had plonked yourself on a slightly hard mattress with a creaky metal frame. Swivelling round to face Laswell and her companions across from you, you inch a little closer to the edge, hoping the background noise wouldn’t take away from the conversation you sensed was coming. 

“How are you feeling, Y/N?” She asked, taking a sip from her thermos.

“Fine.” 

Kate Laswell accepted the answer, and your little circle went quiet for a moment. 

“So…”  a man with mutton chops spoke up suddenly, only to then fade into silence. 

Laswell elbowed him lightly. 

“Just because they can’t tell you much about their background, doesn’t mean you can’t introduce yourself!” She shook her head, “Go on! Be polite!”

He shot her a dirty look before holding out his hand. 

“Captain John Price.”

“Y/N.”

You took it. 

“Just Y/N? No rank? Not even a surname?”

You shook your head. 

“Proper mystery you are, eh?” Price chuckled.

A younger man, sitting next to him, peered round to get a better look at you. His eyes wandered about for a bit before he honed in on something which made his eyebrows raise. 

“I like your tattoos.” He pointed to what he could see from your rolled up sleeve. 

You looked down, almost as if you were reminding yourself that they were still there. 

“Thanks.” You mumbled. 

He leaned forward, trying to get a better look at them, only for Price to place a hand on his chest. 

“Don’t be getting in their space, Gaz. Let ‘em breathe.”

“Sorry,” Gaz gave an apologetic smile, “I was just wondering where you got ‘em done. They look really cool.”

“I can’t tell you where I had them inked, I’m afraid.”

“Fine. Keep your secrets.” 

“I will.” You grinned, letting out a small laugh. 

You could see Kate was beginning to relax a little as you and Gaz exchanged smiles. Sure, you weren’t going to be here for long, but it would make a heck of a lot easier if you got along well with your short-term roommates. 

Soap came and sat himself down on his rucksack in the small, askew circle you had found yourselves in. 

“So,” he began, scooting himself a little closer in, “you guys managed to get any intel on Y/N here?”

“Tough nut to crack.” Price remarked, feigning a solemn headshake, “Won’t even give their rank.”

Soap sighed, “Damn. Don’t even know where you sit in the pecking order… that’s gonna make allocating food tough.”

Your eyes widened. 

“Allocating what now?” 

“They’re just messing with you.” Laswell rolled her eyes as the men let out hearty laughs, “You’ll get an equal ration don’t worry.”

She patted your back as you laughed nervously with them, feeling a bit foolish.

“Can you not scare them off please?” Kate barked at Soap as he wiped his eye, “The last thing I want is them running off and disappearing off the face of the Earth.”

“Sorry, Laswell! Couldn’t help masel!” 

“Of course.”

The laughter soon quietened down and people started looking up. A shadow had fallen over you, darkening your field of view. 

You looked up to see what was eclipsing the lights. 

A tall, masked man was looking down at you… and you kept looking back up at him. 

The both of you narrowed your eyes. For a brief moment, you thought a staring contest was going to begin, time slowing down for a fleeting second. And then, suddenly, the world sped up back to its usual pace as he turned to the rest of the group and asked:

“Who’s this?”

“That’s Y/N. The runaway Laswell told us about yesterday.”

“Oh.”

Oh? You tilted your head to one side. Was that all he had to say? “Oh?” 

Fine. Just ‘oh’ me, I guess. You shrugged to yourself as he walked past you to take a seat by Soap. 

“This one’s a proper mystery. Some shadowy government agent from Laswell’s lot.” Price whispered, loudly. 

“Yeah, you can take your tin foil hat off, Captain.” Laswell groaned, “Y/N’s information is just classified to you.”

“What about you, Kate?”

“Oh, I know almost everything about them.” She leaned back a little, smug. 

“They got as much classified information as Ghost?” Soap looked between you and the masked man. 

“Probably not. Since, you know, we have the privilege of seeing Y/N’s face all the time, unlike someone.”

Gaz let out a snort as Ghost rolled his eyes. 

Ultimately, it was true though. If it were down between you and Ghost on who looked more trustworthy, it would be you by a mile. You didn’t have a mask on for a start and he did. Not to mention, the man’s stare was unnerving. Intense. You were almost certain that if he tried, the sheer power of his glare would turn you into stone. The man would have made a fine Gorgon, all staring eyeballs and no friendly smile, or at least no visible friendly smile. 

“Y/N,” Gaz paused to let out the last of his giggles, “I got a very important question. What’s your favourite colour?”

“Uh…” You just pick one off the top of your head, “red?”

“Great! Now we know more about Y/N than our old pal Ghost! They officially have less classified info than him!”

Soap went to put an arm around his shoulders, only for Ghost to shrug him off. 

“Very funny.” 

“Oh, lighten up, Riley! You’re the one who refused to give a straight answer, unlike Y/N here.”

“Maybe because I have better things to do than pick a favourite colour?”

“Hey!” You light-heartedly snapped back, pointing an accusing finger at him, “There’s nothing wrong with having a favourite colour.”

“And there’s nothing wrong with not having a favourite colour.” He retorted. 

“Yeah!” You folded your arms, “Perhaps if you’re not interesting or fun enough to have one.”

Soap let out an ‘ooohh’, awaiting Ghost’s reply. 

Only for the man to just huff and get up. 

“Pass me your canteen, Johnny. That’s what I was here for anyways.”

“Could you fill up mine too?” Gaz asked, raising his water bottle up to Ghost. 

“Fuck off.” 

“Rude.” 

“Now, now, lieutenant, that’s no way to be talking to your sergeant.” Price snickered. 

“My apologies, Garrick.” Ghost said, exaggeratingly. 

“Apology accepted.” Gaz smiled, getting ready to hand him his bottle. 

“But I still ain’t filling it up.”

With that, Ghost left the barracks and left Gaz hanging. 

The men erupted into laughter once more as Gaz wibbled his lower lip, acting as if he was on the verge of tears. 

“Welcome to 141.” Kate smiled, “They’re idiots when they’re not on the job.”

You found yourself genuinely smiling, something which you hadn’t done in a while. 

“Well, Laswell. I’d rather have these idiots than a bunch of arseholes.”

Kate placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. 

“You’ll do just fine around here, Y/N. Just fine.”

You hoped so. Even if this was a pitstop, this was your first taste of freedom. This was the first time you were going it alone, meeting people who you were choosing to meet and talk to. This was not a matter you took lightly. Every moment you had with these guys; you would be savouring it. Perhaps this was also the time to start learning about how to make friends as well. 

The laughter you were currently bathing in set alight a gentle warmth which you had seldom felt back when you were at the Red Room. 

There’d be no harm in saying that this bode well. 

***

He was still getting used to the sights and sounds. This world he had been reborn into was… overwhelming. It hadn’t changed though; it was he who had been augmented. 

Graves sat perfectly still as he watched the whitecoats around him do their thing. He had regretted having not chosen to sit in a more comfortable, slouched posture for this, but it was too late to change his position now. Any sudden move made would result in a swift sedation or a prompt branding with whatever silver cruelty they had on them. 

He let out a resigned sigh as one of the doctors made her way round him and placed a lead onto his temple, pressing down to make sure the adhesive would stick. 

“Arcadian 3’s vitals are up now.”

The team dropped whatever they were doing and huddled around the small monitor next him, where the various wires that were attached from his head to his arms, hands and his chest all led to. 

“Look at that!” One of them gasped, pointing at something on screen that seemed to have the vague shape of numbers as well as a wiggly line that Graves usually attributed to hospital equipment, “No sign of deterioration at all! Heart rate of 60 beats per minute, average for a living K9.”

“Blood oxygen level is 97.5%. That’s pretty good.”

“Okay, great. I’d say… I’d say we can send him over to the Red Room’s guys.”

There seemed to be a unanimous hum of agreement as heads nodded and people patted each other on the back. 

The doors to the lift parted and Phillip Graves was greeted with a compartment full of other men, looking about as drained as he did. Some were already wearing their armour, whilst others were in their base layers like him. All eyes moved to meet him, and Graves felt himself recoil inside. 

“Get in, soldier.” A woman called from behind and he felt the dull end of her weapon gently nudge his lower back. 

Reluctantly, the man stepped over the threshold and into the lift, sandwiching himself between two other brutes. 

“Once you reach the Academy, you are to turn right and follow the lamias waiting for you to go get your masks fitted. Under no circumstances are you to enter the Academy without one of those things on. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.” They all said. 

The doors creaked shut. 

The air was heavy here, the humidity only rising with each breath let out. The sighs released from those slightly frowned lips of the soldiers in this cramped space came out in the form of steam: a small, fleeting moment of white which dissipated, leaving only the mere sensation of its presence. Not wishing to make eye contact with any of his companions, Graves elected to keep his eyes on the small screen above, which indicated the floor number they were on. 

Slowly, the value on the screen decreased. The lift would jerk a little and its lights flickered in response. Only the distant echoes of metal scraping against metal and clanking machinery filled the silence. There were no voices. Graves had tuned into the soft whirs of the lift, which were more audible when the damn thing wasn’t acting like it was as old as time itself. He found it bizarre that something which looked so well-maintained would sound as broken as it did. This lift was inarguably spotless, the metal for the buttons polished and shining, the floor looking glossy, and the walls were this pristine blue grey colour. Maybe his ears had gotten sensitive too? 

Graves had noticed his sight and sense of smell most certainly had; what would be the subtle scent of men’s perfumes, deodorants and aftershave mixed with dull metal was an almost overbearing concoction for his nose. Phillip was doing all he could to not just clutch his face and splutter. It was like the smell was slowly filling up the inner volume of his skull, desperately vying for all his mind’s attention. As for his eyesight, well, he gathered that this lift’s lights had been especially lowered for him and the men around him because he could actually see clearly. Graves didn’t have to squint for once. 

Someone yawned and another scratched behind their ear. 

There was this shared sense of discomfort. No one wanted to be here, and they could sense that desire in each other. 

Graves found himself being compelled to yawn. As he did so, he realised he had to give himself a moment to realign his jaw so his teeth wouldn’t sit uncomfortably on one another. Oh, the joy of having lengthened canines! He truly, truly hated what they had done to his body. 

Finally, the lift creaked, groaned and then grinded to a halt. Doors parted and the men stepped out. They were greeted with a set of armoured women, who kindly guided them down the corridor, herding them into a room just off the side. 

There were worktables lined with masks and various articles of armour. 

“Find your mask. See if it fits and put it on. If you don’t have armour, the bits on the tables are yours. Your pieces will be identified by your number. It’s your full number, not the last digit.”

They obeyed, not uttering a word, and dispersed, splitting into smaller groups and huddling round the tables. Graves wandered about, looking at each and every piece, hoping to find one with his serial number. 

7223. 

7223. 

Come on! He gritted his teeth. Where’s 7223?

Eventually, he found his stuff, sitting on the table at the far end of the room, near a guard who was posted at the corner, watching them like a hawk. First thing the man did was put on the gloves. Then, he picked up a pair of braces, branded with his number on the inside, and strapped them to his arms. Kneepads went on next and finally; it was the chest plate. It was familiar but strange at the same time. 

The woman at the front who had been instructing them spoke up again. 

“Remember when you put these masks on, you need to bite down gently on the mouthpiece inside. Once you all have your masks on, we’ll show you how to insert your blood canisters.”

Graves stared at the helmet in his hands. The reflections of the ceiling lights rolled off its featureless, glass face. He knew the stuff it was made of was most certainly not glass, nay, it was most likely something much stronger than whatever materials the standard army possessed for their protective gear. However, it looked fragile. Strange. Alien. The smooth glaze of this visage was coloured black with this undertone of crimson which revealed itself when occasionally catching the light. With a resigned exhale through his nose, Phillip turned it around to find the button to crack it open. Feeling around his finger, he eventually came across a change in texture and took the plunge. It hissed and soon the segments were levering themselves either upwards or out to the sides. 

He put it on and found the mouthpiece. A hunk of what felt like plastic, again, he knew it most likely wasn’t, hit him square on the nose. As he lowered the mask onto his face, he managed to move it over so that it was hovering over his lips. He took a deep breath. Then, he opened his mouth. It was horrible. 

Remember that feeling when the dentist shoves that chunk of plastic and terrible, mint-flavoured stuff into your mouth to take a mould? Everything was clearly too big for you, the bits of plastic cutting at the insides of your cheeks, the urge to gag rising but nothing really coming of it? 

It was that. He was not having a good time. 

He bit down on the piece, desperate to try and find a way to make this tolerable. 

“Looks like everyone’s got their masks on. Great. We’re handing out the blood canisters now. Nobody try slotting them in until all of y’all have your canisters.”

One of the lamias came round with an unzipped duffel bag, which jangled as she walked. On each table she set out a pair of canisters per person. Eventually, she made her way to Graves’ table and placed before him and his company, six transparent, sealed tubes. Each one housed a red liquid, which gushed about against its glass walls, causing pink froth. It looked like blood, but it clearly wasn’t. The liquid was too thin, too artificial. 

“Raise your hand if you do not have a pair of these.” The head lamia raised an example in her hand to show to the group. 

The lack of response suggested they were all set. 

“Okay,” she began, “Feel the lower half of your helmet for a slot on either side. Once you have located your slots, take the canister- there should be one labelled with ‘R’ for right and ‘L’ for left- and put them on the correct side.” 

The room was once more filled with the quiet rustles of people doing as they were told. 

Graves looked down to see the new pieces of equipment which had been placed before him. He picked one up, bringing it close to his concealed face. Examining it, Phillip’s eyes narrowed. 

In accidental union, each soldier there took their canisters and plugged them into their masks. The sound of unanimous, mechanical hissing replacing the ambient quiet like the rising pre-chorus of some holy choir. 

As soon as the parts clicked in place, a smell began to fill the air in Phillip’s mask. At first it was faint, but soon it gained strength. More and more and more, it began to overtake him. 

This was blood. This was some form of blood. And yet, it was sweet. Delectable. He could almost taste it. Every time he inhaled, Graves was met with this wave of satisfaction, like he had just eaten the best meal he’d had in ages. It almost made him feel faint, his head starting to feel light and his eyes heavy with each blink. Graves leant forward, resting his hands against the worktable, trying to steady his breaths. 

Opposite to him, a guy was clutching his helmeted head, groaning. He looked almost drunk, his feet threatening to give way as he swayed side to side, like the thin stem of a plant caught in the wind. Another man, in between Graves and the wobbler, standing along the shorter side of the table, was giggling a little, unsteady on his feet too and resting some of his weight on the table like Graves. 

THUMP!

Those who weren’t completely inebriated whipped their heads round to the source of the sound. Someone, at the table near the door, had just collapsed, body giving way completely. A couple of lamias grabbed hold of him and promptly dragged him away like this was nothing. 

Graves furrowed his brows. 

Was losing consciousness a common occurrence here? 

“Do not remove your masks whilst in the Academy! These pieces of equipment are to stop you from attacking our lamias-in-training and your teammates when you’re working. You’ll be given further instruction on these when you are sent out on your first missions!” The main woman instructed, “You are now ready to enter the Academy. The gorgons at the front will direct you to your assigned lamias-in-training.”

She gestured for them to start heading out the door. As he had been doing for the entirety of the time he had spent here, Graves followed the crowd and left the room with the group. 

They trekked down the hall in silence, almost like zombies, the fumes these canisters were filling their lungs made them feel drowsy. Sluggishly, Graves walked with the others in time, doing his best not to be blinded by the ceiling lights overhead. 

The vague shape of two figures came into view at the end of the hallway, holding guns close to their chests. Once they saw the men approach, one turned and scanned her palm. The three segments making up the blast door parted and they were ushered inside. 

Now, Graves found himself in a queue. 

From an arms room to what looked like to be a line for the bank, Phillip just accepted the circumstances he was in. That’s what he had been doing this entire time, ever since he had found himself in this place… he had just accepted. It was what he had to do. After all, they could very well just kill him if they thought he wasn’t going to be of much use and then his second chance at life would be taken away. All it took was for him to look the wrong way at someone and bam! Silver bullet through the brain and no more. He may have not liked this, being poked at by whitecoats, having to watch poorly made instructional videos and being herded like cattle, but he was alive. Right now, that was all he could think about. 

He was alive. 

Three weeks ago he had been dead. Three weeks ago he was a corpse, still as a lake, empty. Phillip Graves three weeks ago didn’t exist. 

And yet, he had been willed back to walk this Earth once more. 

He knew he’d eventually find himself feeling disillusioned, being forced to become a soldier once more, unable to pick his battles but right now, Phillip knew that this organisation had his loyalty for a while. Much longer than the US could hold it for. 

“8540. 8540. Come to the front. Your lamias are ready.” An automated voice announced over the intercom. 

A man, a few heads in front of Graves, watched his number appear on the screen. Then, he left the queue and was led past the set of doors to whatever lay beyond them. 

More numbers were called and more men were led away. 

“7629.”

“8913.”

“7152.”

And then, finally:

“7223.”

He did as he had watched and removed himself from the queue and walked towards the set of doors. The pair of guards on either side gestured for him to follow. 

To Graves’ surprise, the man found himself in a canteen. It was a large mess hall. Tables were dotted around, some long, reaching almost the length of the hall, whilst others were smaller islands, with personnel huddled around them. 

He was led down the aisle between a pair of long tables, coming to a stop about two thirds of the way. 

“Sit.”

The guards pushed Phillip onto a chair roughly. Then, one left and one remained, taking a seat next to him. Across from the man sat two girls who were in base layers similar to what he was wearing under his armour.

One of the girls leaned back, looking him up and down. As she did so, Phillip realised the strange markings both had lining their forearms, seemingly coming up to their necks, the patterns peeking through from under the edge of their base layers. 

“This is 7223.” The guard said, gesturing to him, “He will be overseeing you from now on. So, I suggest you three get acquainted. They’ll be deploying your party within the next twenty-four hours.”

***

You couldn’t sleep that night. The warmth had worn off and you were back to being worried. They were coming for you, you knew it. They probably already were making moves to your location. Yes, you had removed the trackers which had been either grafted into your armour or implanted under your skin but really, you had to admit, it was more as a means to self soothe than actually something practical. You could tell Laswell knew that too. 

The both of you had smashed them into smithereens or chucked them into boiling water (much to Price’s dismay, having had to retrieve a new pan to cook his dinner in) but, again, it served no real purpose other than getting you one step closer to… well, closure. 

This was a game of cat and mouse, call and response. You knew you weren’t going to make the first move- now that’d be foolish! However, you also knew you couldn’t say huddled in the little burrow you had made for yourself here at the base. They’d sniff you out eventually. The Foundation had some fine K9s which the Red Room would employ and those K9s were only getting better. Once you got even the slightest hint that they were nearby, you’d be gone in a flash. No need to keep the lion waiting in the tall grass. At least then, you wouldn’t give the bastards the satisfaction of giving chase. 

Dirty fucking dogs. 

Rain pattered softly against the windows as you navigated your way through a darkened corridor. Those who weren’t on night watch had been advised to confine their activity to the barracks, for the sake of keeping track of who was where and when, but… you couldn’t help yourself. You needed to wander and quietly pacing back and forth, hoping not to wake your sleeping roommates, simply would not suffice. It was not like those on night watch would catch you, you were one sneaky little sonuvabitch. At least, you hoped they wouldn’t find you. Even if they did, what was the worst that could happen? A mild bollocking? Pfft! You could handle that. And what of potential threats?

The answer was your gun. You had your trusty assault rifle with you, one which you had stolen when you made your escape. Luckily, you had yet to use it and you preferred to keep it that way. Your motto right now was to injure and run. You wouldn't aim to kill; you couldn’t risk lingering to see if the job was done. Besides, the kind of folks you usually tangled with typically got back up after a bullet to the brain, if you gave them a few minutes. 

The sounds from outside began to dampen. 

Soon, you found yourself in a patch of quiet. 

Right now, it was like you were walking in a big black void, only the vague shapes of what lay ahead along the path could be made out and even then, there was no certainty as to whether it was something tangible, or a mere shadow. 

Isolated, once more, with your thoughts. 

You wondered if sunrise would come soon, though, you soon thought that was a stupid question to ponder on seeing as it was so dark. This was the dead of night. 

And it was so, so quiet. 

Thunder gently rumbled overhead, but it sounded distant, almost muffled. 

You swallowed hard, drawing your gun closer to your chest. 

Maybe you would have been alright with pacing back and forth in the barracks, afterall. At least, back in the barracks, you’d have the sounds of snoring to ground you in reality. You knew your imagination would start to run wild, soon. 

WHOOSH!

You felt a chill wind sweep through your body. Something was here. 

A rustle!

Movement. 

Your breaths grew a little shaky as your finger moved to hover over the trigger. 

Was it them?

Oh God! Did they find you already?! How?! So soon?! 

You can feel your blood rushing through your veins, your pulse pounding in your ears. 

Your hairs stand on end, and you feel something bristle against your back. 

Dirty fucking dogs. 

Like a crescendo, awaiting the climax, you feel fear rush through you, propelling you as you spin around, gun pointing at whoever wanted to get a piece of you.

You flicked on your torch as you did so, and the face of your hunter was revealed. 

Two piercing eyes, reflecting the light of your flashlight back at you.

You let out a scream. 

“Hey! What are you doing?!”

It grabbed the muzzle of your gun. You fought against it, squirming against it as the thing tried to take control of the weapon. 

That’s when you noticed the hand wrapped around the end of your gun was gloved, with five very human looking fingers gripping the weapon. Your eyes trailed back up to meet the figure, only to see he was wearing a balaclava… and those ‘two piercing eyes’ which you had initially thought belonged to some animal… were plainly human. 

His brows furrowed as you stopped, and he let go. 

It was… Oh what was his name? 

Phantom? No… it was something short… Ghost? Yeah! That’s it!

“Oh my God!” You covered your mouth with your hand, only to then let go of your gun, leaving it to hang by its strap around you, as you placed your hands on your knees. 

You turned back to him. 

“You scared the shit out of me!”

Ghost seemed indifferent, staring at you. 

“What?” 

“Your safety’s on.” 

You looked down, sighing, still trying to catch your breath. 

“Go back to the barracks.” He said, almost sounding inconvenienced. 

You watched him walk past you, not even bothering to acknowledge the fact that he had just given you a heart attack. Taking in the last of your shaking breaths, you turn, hands still resting on your knees, to see his figure slowly vanish into the dark. 

You’ve got to be quick if you want to say your piece, or he’ll disappear out of earshot. 

[mamamittens]

I'm supposed to be sleeping but nah.

Here's some AO3 statistics on my stories instead!

Under the cut of you're a nerd like me and morbidly curious as to what hits big in my fics specifically.

So, from my first fics on AO3 all the way back in 2016 to 2023, here's my top stories from kudos, which is a harder metric to hit compared to well, hits.

Btw, just realized that the by year filter is based on update not when it's written, so as long as it was updated in that year it makes the list.

As you can see this is also the year I got into Undertale. "We Are Falling" being my first Undertale fic with the zanny OC 'Tumble', AFAB nonbinary older sibling to Frisk. Mostly a story of crack taken more or less seriously.

Not at all surprised the HP crossover fic "Determined Magics" tops it cause well... It's HP and also written when the crossovers were very few and mostly drabbles. "Hopeful Magic" is the dropped sequel because I had no idea how to continue the story at a decent length and eventually forgot what little plans I did have. It was very hard to decide to officially drop it and I'm still upset it had to be done to this day.

Similarly, "It's going Tibia A Cute Time" was dropped for similar reasons because i started including more details I had no idea how to close out than when I first started. This one featuring an OC essentially raising the skeleton brothers. It was a whole thing.

"Sketchy as Hell" is actually my first romance fic and stars an OC named "Anna" in the AU verse "Underfell", which for the uninitiated is basically edgy Undertale. Wild times. "Colorful as Hell" is the sequel. It is in fact totally finished.

"Shadows in the Ice" just didn't have enough story and nothing I thought of would pad it out into an acceptable length for me, so it was also dropped after a very long time and much reluctant deliberation. At best, this story would be more of a short story. It is based off of a movie after all. Not a lot of plot to start with.

And this is for only this year alone!

Unsurprisingly it's mostly my One Piece one shots for the most part (specifically smuts).

But Sweet Child tops all of them, which honestly tracks, being a reader insert with different romantic/platonic ending with a few different characters. Some of which are still pending. A little surprised the Child AU version "How our Seeds Grow" also made it onto the top area of my list! Especially given how it's just one chapter but I guess folks love child inserts with platonic yanderes idk.

Quite surprised the FNAF fic "A Friend of Charlotte" is on here given how poorly OC fics tend to do in general but given the public nature of kudos and the way the filter works by year, I suppose this teen rates fic had a better shot. This one is about Blaire, teenage medium discovering the secrets of the pizzaplex from Security Breach before, during, and after the games events.

"Fireworks" made it to #2, which is mildly surprising but it is a smutfic about Ace and a reader insert so... Not that surprising.

"Twice Bitten (But not Shy)" being a sequel to a vampire Crocodile with AFAB reader insert smut so zero surprise that it's here.

"Sugar on Your Tongue" is another smutfic for One Piece but this time with Marco, Ace, Zoro, and Sanji in a foursome. Spicy. Zero surprise it's here.

And last on this singular screenshot (there are fics with less kudos under it) is "A Lone Melody" doing alright considering it's an OC centric fic in a massive fandom. All about Melody (half human half fishman) growing up with Arlong (and sometimes Jinbe) as she realizes not everything is as she thought it was and Arlong realizes there are consequences to being a racist prick with yandere-esque protective tendencies. Mostly. It's more about Melody though.

Just for fun, here's last year, 2022.

Unsurprised "Hopeful Magic" tops it, this is the year I dropped it and left a chapter explaining what little plans I could recall.

But yeaaaahhh... All of the 'new' entries are One Piece smut to my absolute non-shock.

"Aloe Kisses" Sabo smut with AFAB reader, "The Only Choice" yandere Ace smut with AFAB reader, "Riptide" yandere Jinbe smut with female reader, and "Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf" werewolf Ace smut with AFAB werewolf reader. Zero shock and awe here lol.

I... Wrote a lot of smut in 2022. It's easier to get a high word count than fluff, ngl, and I did several events that year with smut as an option that I cross posted. The werewolf Ace fic is one such smut specifically for the Halloween/horror themed event if memory serves!

If I had to say which one I had the most fun writing it would probably be "We Are all Falling" cause I was literally pumping out a chapter everyday after classes in college with my roomie (still bestie) reading over it. It was dumb, stupid fun. A real treat with a random, aggressive sense of humor that if you read it, you'd recognize my trademark writing starts real early. Including having unexpected villains, body horror, dramatics, and side eyes references to anime I've seen. Tumble was me totally uninhibited by anxiety and fear with a good dose of angst and the best of intentions. Also absolutely fed up with bullshit but strangely optimistic.

After that? I'd have to say my second favorite that's on any of these 'lists' would have to be "A Friend of Charlotte". I spent what had to be weeks crafting Blaire and her backstory. Her story is also the only one that I can more or less consistently hit a pretty high word count for chapters without feeling bloated, which is quite satisfying. A bit more mature of a story with some fun taken crafting a middle ground between the ludicrously dangerous setting of literally any location in FNAF with something that could actually maybe exist without getting shut down for being... Ludicrously dangerous for literally anyone in, around, or even thinking about. Definitely a little more kind to upper management than canon FNAF management who seem to view OSHA violations as a checklist and a challenge. Seriously, how the hell do you make body snatcher animatronics without a little bit of pause??? Why?? Why would you do that?!? (The amount of haunted animatronics is also a problem but arguably not usually a feature until Funtime)

[the-power-of-stuff]

I hope this isn't weird but I'm so glad I found this blog. I'm new to Avatar Sokka/Suki and I had no idea there was so much already out there. Thank you (and for the fic rec list) but can you tell me how you got into them?

Omg, no, this isn't weird at all!! I'm legitimately so happy to hear you say this, like...no joke, this has kinda been my dream for the past few years and is basically the reason I've been attempting to curate Sukka stuff the way that I do. So...yay!!

Which ties nicely into how I got into them, I guess!

So, like a lot of other folks, I got back into ATLA during the 2020 Renaissance when the animated show got put on Netflix. And while I'd always liked Sokka (he was one of my top 3 faves when I first watched the show years ago, behind Appa and Iroh), this time around, I got really attached to him. Something about his sense of humor was hitting just right (my husband has a similar sense of humor but we'll just ignore that and move along *innocent whistling*). And then watching him grow over the course of the series and gain all these badass skills and become a competent leader...it drew me in hard. So of course, given how endeared I was to him, I just really wanted him to get to kiss his super awesome girlfriend as much as possible.

I also think there was something about this, like...really tender, playful, healthy portrayal of a romantic relationship that I found compelling. I gush a lot about their casual intimacy. How they'll be on the sidelines of a scene but still touching one another. Or how easy and carefree they are when they tease each other. But because their romance is relatively subtle and in the background of the main action of the story, it also left me wanting more. So of course I went to AO3, and I was like "AO3, gimme all the Sokka Suki kissing stories." But unfortunately I burned through what I found way too quickly.

(Just for fun, I did an "otp:true" search on AO3 for Sukka just now, and only ~70 of the 289 fics that currently meet that criteria were published pre-Renaissance. The fact that that number has quadrupled in the past four years is thrilling to me! But it also gives you an idea of what the Sukka landscape was like then.)

So yeah, I started writing Sukka fic to fill the Sukka-shaped hole in my gut, and it's been sort of self-reinforcing ever since then. I couldn't stop thinking about them, so I started writing about them, but writing about them means I just keep thinking about them, etc etc... And I've been here ever since! Plus I've made some really good friends from writing Sukka, and they're all such enablers. 😉

Long story short, Sukka inspired me in a way I hadn't been inspired in years. They got me writing again when, before that, I hadn't really written anything in maybe a decade. Being into Sukka is a compulsion. 😅

I'm so glad you found the fic rec list useful! I've been terrible about maintaining it lately, but you've totally inspired me to get back in there. It can be kinda frustrating going through the Sukka tag, or at least it used to be, since they so often appear as just a background ship in fics. Now there's the "otp:true" search and the "Enforce first-tagged?" browser extension that are both really effective filters. But yeah, I started that rec list partly because I wanted other Sukka fans to have an easier time finding Sukka stuff than I did! Then again, if I'd found it easier, I might not have started writing them. 😃