#i refrained from putting my B I G fics up on here just because i feel like im always gabbing about those lmao

[queenofbaws]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💗

🥹 well color me flattered you'd send this my way!!! hehehehe

the durellion affair: dragon age 2 | fhawke/varric | T | complete hawke and varric get word of a wondrous opportunity...there's a high-and-mighty orlesian family just begging to get fleeced, and maker's breath, they're ready to do some fleecing! problem is, there might be a murderer on the loose in the estate. there also might be ghosts. and a room full of cheese...? this one's a murder mystery full of intrigue, familiar faces, and - i cannot stress this enough - horrible jokes. i was grinning the whole time i was writing this ;P

still: dragon age 2 | fhawke/varric | T | complete there are lots of things hawke and varric are good at. most of them are illegal. if there's one thing they're both miserable at, however, it's, uh...sitting down and openly talking about their feelings, which is unfortunate really, because there are a lot of feelings to talk about. changing feelings. romantic feelings. BIG feelings. this fic is really just me waxing poetic about the vhawke dynamic the best way i know how: with heaps of angst and banter out of the wazoo! there's a happy ending though, i pwomise

no wealth no ruin no silver no gold: until dawn | gen | T | complete the curator swings by blackwood pines on two very unfortunate nights. he's interested in meeting the washingtons and their friends, you understand, just...well, not all of them. :) this fic is literally just an excuse for me to engage in one of my favorite pastimes - smooshing supermassive characters together like barbie dolls. the blackwood kids meet the curator! what could possibly go wrong???

the not-quite-midnight society +1: until dawn | gen | T | complete hnnnnnnGHHH i love this fic so much. this is an anthology series where, essentially, the blackwood kids sit around and tell each other spooky stories around a campfire. the events of the game do not take place, meaning hannah and beth are a-okay and toasting marshmallows like everyone else. everyone has their own story to tell, and while some are better than others, i think we all know there's only one master of horror on the mountain >:] (and it's not josh)

all in the family: until dawn/the quarry | gen | T | complete the precursor to like wringing blood from a stone, the fic i'm currently focusing on. after (miraculously) surviving the events of until dawn, jack "flamethrower guy" fiddler visits some extended family down in new york state. turns out dear sweet cousin constance and the rest of her brood are experiencing something of a problem there in hackett house...and there's really only one kind of problem you call a fiddler in to fix. this was meant to be a oneshot, but grabbed me by the throat so intensely that it turned into a full multi-chap with a sequel, so i think it's fair to say it inspired something deep inside me. take one grizzled monster hunter, add him to a house of deeply troubled people, toss in a few werewolves, and you know what you got? a bad time. a really, really bad time.

[foilfreak]

Beauty and Her Beast: Chapter 2

Warning: This fic is rated NSFW and contains graphic depictions of things some people may find disturbing or alarming, including, but not limited to: violence, gore, unhealthy family relationships, Oedipus complexes, gratuitous amount of pornographic literature, ableist language, physical, mental, and emotional abuse, etc. If you are someone who does not enjoy fiction with these elements in them, then I suggest you refrain from reading this, because this fic will have all that, and probably a lot more. So, this is your first and final warning to turn around and go somewhere else if stuff like this just isn't your vibe, because from this point forward, your emotional wellbeing is in your own hands, and I will not be accepting blame if you disregarded my warnings and ended up reading something you didn't like. Idk why I feel compelled to write one of these despite this being Resident Evil fanfic, but I figured I'd cover my ass just in case.

(Link to ao3 version in comments below)

Chapter 2:

The journey to Mother Miranda’s personal laboratory was much shorter and more enjoyable than the original walk to the meeting site, in Salvatore’s humble opinion.

Mother Miranda was mostly quiet, distant, and preoccupied throughout the duration of the walk, even more so than normal. That being said however, while this sort of behavior would usually spell disaster for whichever one of the 4 lords was forced to be in her presence during these sorts of moods, in this situation, Mother Miranda did not appear tense or agitated or hostile like she usually would be. Just lost in thought. As though she were only quiet because she was too busy thinking about something else to speak. She didn’t even seem to mind his various attempts at starting conversation, which surprised, but endlessly delighted, the mutant man.

‘Mother must be in a very good mood today. She hasn’t hit me or told me to shut up the whole time we’ve been together. Maybe she’s made another breakthrough with the cadou? I’d certainly be very happy if I were in her shoes’ Salvatore excitedly thought to himself as the woman in question stepped forward to unlock and open the large steel door of her personal laboratory, allowing Salvatore to step into the facility before closing and locking it again behind her.

“Moreau, do you recall the set of mutation experiments I began at the beginning of last year?” The raven mother asked, turning around and beginning to quickly make her way down the long, dark corridor.

“Y-you mean… the o-ones with the new c-cadou strain th-that I… that I d-developed… f-for you?” Salvatore stutters, breath labored and body struggling to keep up with the taller woman’s vastly larger steps.

“Correct” Mother Miranda says, turning a corner. “As impressed as I was with the final results of this particular strain, I’m afraid it still isn’t good enough. None of the subjects I implanted with cadou last year turned out to be favorable candidates.”

Salvatore stops in his tracks, a look of horror and agony on his face as news that he’d failed mother once again practically tears him apart from the inside out. “O-oh Mother… I-im so s-s-sorry to h-hear that… b-but don’t w-worry… I’ll-I’ll try h-harder next t-time… I w-won’t fail y-you again Mother, so p-please… please j-just give me a-another chance to get it r-right… i b-beg of y-you…”

Mother Miranda stops and turns toward the mutated lord, staring at him in silence as he drops to his knees and grovels at her feet, begging desperately for his failures to be forgiven.

“Off your knees, Moreau, this behavior is unbecoming of a Lord such as yourself. Besides, I never said that you were the one to blame for the lack of successful results, nor am I necessarily displeased by the fact that these experiments yielded failed vessels.”

Salvatore allows his gaze to rise to his mother’s face, where, true to her words, the parts of Miranda’s face that Salvatore could make out from behind her mask did not appear marred with the familiar expressions of anger and disappointment that the 4 lords were usually met with after another round of failed vessels.

“Y-you’re… you’re not upset with m-me?” The deformed man asks, his voice laced with shock and disbelief.

“No, my child, I’m not upset with you. While these experiments may have ended in failure, they did provide me with useful information that may prove to be pertinent to our mission in the near future. In fact, as I said earlier, the reason why I’ve brought you here is because I want to give you a gift, as a reward for all your incredible work. Did you expect me to be upset with you simply because this round proved unsuccessful as well? Do you really think so poorly of your loving mother, who works tirelessly to ensure her children are happy and rewarded for all their faith and trust in me?” Mother Miranda sniveled pitifully, turning her gaze away in mock dejection as Salvatore, horrified that he’d insulted and hurt her somehow, scrambles to his feet, gently taking both of Miranda’s hands into his own and holding the supple skin to his bloated and deformed face, desperately hoping this would comfort her.

“No no no no, o-of course n-not, Mother… I-I’d never expect s-something like th-that from y-you… and-and I k-know better… b-better than a-anyone… just h-how h-hard you w-work… not j-just on y-your experiments… but f-for all o-of us… too… you l-l-love us… you… love ME… I-I’ll always love y-you, Mother… always” Salvatore blurts, stumbling over his words as he tries desperately to comfort Mother Miranda, an effort he’s seemingly rewarded for, when Miranda takes one of her hands away and brings it back to the top of Salvatore’s head, once again gently brushing her hand against it.

Salvatore’s knees nearly give out from under him as the heavenly sensation washes throughout his body like a raging typhoon, leaving him feeling tired and weak yet hungry and wanting for more, though whatever that “more” was, Salvatore was quick to beat it back down deep within himself, knowing this was neither the time nor the place for him to be entertaining such… primal desires about someone like Mother Miranda, no matter how little he intends to act on them.

“Thank you, Moreau. You always know exactly what to say to make Mother feel better. You’re such a good boy” Mother Miranda says, making sure to put extra emphasis onto the last two words as she reaches forward and pulls Salvatore closer to her.

“G-g-g-gggg… good… boy… me?” Salvatore chokes, tears beginning to fill his eyes as Mother Miranda’s arms come to wrap around him, pushing the deformed man’s face to lean against the soft, feathery material of her bosom.

“Yes, Moreau. You’ve always been very special to me. From the day I met you, you’ve been such a good, well-behaved boy that I never have to worry about” Miranda begins, her face blank and expressionless as she passionlessly strokes Salvatore’s face. “No matter how simple the task, those 3 are always making mistakes of some kind and forcing me to come and clean up their messes after them, especially that snake Heisenberg. But you? No, never you, Moreau, not my special, perfect little boy who always tries his best to make Mother happy. Do you enjoy making Mother happy, Moreau?”

“Y-y-yES! Of-of c-course I do” Salvatore moans, his voice slightly muffled by Miranda’s chest as he violently nods his head in affirmation, tears freely falling from his eyes as his head swims deliriously from the endless wave of kind words and gentle touches.

“Good! I always knew you did. And for that, I'm going to reward you with something very special. Something to… keep you busy... while I’m away for a little while” The raven mother coos again.

Salvatore stops for a moment when the meaning of Miranda’s words finally registers in his brain. “While… w-while you’re… away? You’re l-leaving us?” Salvatore asks, his voice growing increasingly distressed with each word.

“Only for a short time, hopefully,” Mother Miranda answers, “but yes, at the end of this month, I will be leaving the village in order to attend to some very important business I have. I’m not sure how my journey will fare, however I'm optimistic that it will be the key necessary to finally getting my Ev- uh… pardon me; the key to finally achieving our goal of creating a perfect vessel. Doesn’t that sound nice, Moreau?”

“It-it does” the deformed man says quietly, still put off by the mention of Mother leaving, but not wanting to put a damper on his mother’s incredibly rare good mood. “But… where is i-it… th-that you’ll be g-going… an-and for h-how long?”

“Just down the mountain to pay someone a visit, however I have no idea when I'll be back. That will depend on how successful my mission goes, I suppose.”

Silence falls over the two as Salvatore, still upset by the news that Mother Miranda would be leaving, continues to take in the comfort and warmth of his Mother’s arms for just a moment longer, selfishly wishing that Mother held him more often. Eventually however, Mother Miranda does pull back from the superficial embrace, gesturing for Salvatore to follow her once more, which the deformed man begins to do without question.

“Of the 4 of you, you’re the last one to come and pick your gift,” Miranda says, unaware of the visible slump that Salvatore’s shoulders take on upon hearing this. “However, despite there only being one option left, it would appear as though your siblings have decided to spare you their usual games of trickery this time around. If anything, I think you might be the one to have ended up with the best deal after everything is said and done.”

Salvatore looks up at Mother Miranda with an expression of mild confusion, wondering what on earth she could mean by that. His musings are quickly interrupted however, when the two enter a large room filled with various pods.

“Of the 22 test subjects we started with last year, only 13 were genetically compatible with the cadou parasite, and even then, only 4 ended up surviving the full mutation phase. Despite their impressively stable conditions, they still aren’t suitable vessels for my purposes, however I felt as though it would be such a waste to just do away with them. So, with that in mind, I’ve decided that my gift to you all, before I must leave you for a time, is to give one test subject to each of you.”

“G-give? You’re… y-you’re giving us t-test subjects?” Salvatore repeats dumbly, not certain he understood where this was going.

“Correct” Mother Miranda affirms. “This is easily the most successful batch of mutations we’ve seen to date, and given the amount of time and effort I poured into making sure these last 4 survived until now, I’d at least like to see some use gotten out of them before they die or suddenly lose control of their mutations and go rogue.”

“Like… l-like what?” The hooded man asks nervously.

Miranda merely shrugs her shoulders, uncaring. “Anything you like. Housekeeper. Playmate. Labrat. Partner in Crime. Whatever it is you desire of your gift, you may have without question. And in the event they refuse you… well, you’ll at least have a fun little toy to chase after for a little while.”

“I... see...” Salvatore says quietly, growing less and less excited about this whole “gift” thing, now that he knows that his gift is just another person.

Another person to scream and wail at how unbelievably hideous and disgusting of a monster he looks, no doubt.

Without another word, Miranda heads over to the large control table located in the middle of the room, pressing a few buttons before 4 of the many identical pods begin moving toward them. Steam pours out the tops and bottoms of the metal pods as the large capsules slowly finish lowering themselves from their hung pedestals, displaying them directly in front of Miranda and Salvatore.  The man in question stands anxiously in front of the still sealed door, nervously fidgeting with his fingers as he waits for Mother to show him his gift, a myriad of thoughts and fears and worries flying throughout the mutant man’s mind.

“The first 3 have already been chosen by your siblings, but the one on the far right is all yours” Miranda says, pushing another button that causes the singular pod in question to click open, its door slowly beginning to rise upward toward the ceiling.

Salvatore nods in understanding as he tries to avoid watching the door of the pod open, instead hyper focusing on what Miranda is saying as the tension in the room becomes so thick it feels as if it could be cut with a dull knife.

After what felt like an eternity and a half of waiting, the pod door finally finished opening, and in that exact moment, as the disfigured man’s gaze finally fell upon the sight of his gift for the first time, his eyes went wide in shock, his mouth dropped open in disbelief, and his hands fell limply to his side in complete and utter bewilderment at the sight that stood before him.

“That… th-that’s… for me?” Salvatore manages to croak out, his throat suddenly dry as a desert and the air from his lungs having left him the second before.

Raising his hand up toward the creature wired into the pod, the hooded man finds himself unable to look away, feeling almost mesmerized as his mind struggles to figure out whether all this is really happening, or if he’d finally succumbed to the insanity of his condition and dreamt all this up as a sick and twisted way of coping with his soul crushing loneliness. Either one was just as likely at this point.

“I’m sure you’ll still be quite pitiful on the day I have to leave, but at least this way you’ll have something to keep yourself occupied with until I return, yes?” Mother Miranda says smugly, clearly pleased by his reaction. “So, what do you think, Moreau? Do you like the gift I’ve gotten for you?”

It wasn't until after several moments of silence that Salvatore finally responded. After stuttering and slurring unintelligibly over several sentences worth of responses, 2 words, and 2 words alone, finally managed to tumble from the mutant man’s lips, his eyes shining as he finally reached forward enough to slowly and carefully intertwine his fingers with the small and delicate hand of the beautiful young woman that slept peacefully inside the pod.

“She’s perfect!”

[floraone]

So, September is coming up, and with it smutember, and we’re doing it again! (At least I hope you’re with me, lol).

Just like last year, it runs alongside to the official daily word prompts on the official smutember blog: Smutember is an event that runs all throughout September for all fandoms. The following is meant as an addition, not a replacement. If you want to do daily prompts, please use the official words prompts (linked above). However, since daily prompts can be a bit intimidating (especially for a fandom corner that’s 25+ years old like ours and people in it have busy lives), as the resident smut advocate in our fandom, I again customized an alternative that can still incorporate the official themes.

Just like last year, down below you have a list of TROPE AND THEME PROMPTS. They’re a remix of sorts of last year’s tropes, with some you’ve seen before and some new ones, meant to spark a variety of ideas. The idea is that with these you can post once (or twice) per week instead of daily.

Be it for fanart or fanfic or any other sort of fanwork, tropes can be combined, (and they can be combined with the daily themes too), whatever floats your boat. Also, specifically: This event isn’t Usamamo-centric only. I will reblog any Sailor Moon content of any pairing as long as it follows the rules! (See below)

The aim of this event is to create sex-positive content together that celebrates a healthy depiction of consentual sexuality. Erotic fanfiction is a beautiful art, especially in a fandom of ours so largely cultivated by women and for women, as well as a strong inclusive focus on queer and gender-queer content and their creators!

What’s new: I’m taking a page out of the mini-bang’s impressive book, and when smutember is over, I will compile all entries that followed the rules into an online-only e-zine! This also means that art that may be too explicit for tumblr can still be included in the e-zine!

Here are the weekly trope challenges:

Reinvent a trope!

WEEK 1 (September 1st - 7th): Pick 1 or 2

🍋 Reunion Sex 🍋 Sex Fails 🍋 Second Chance Sex 🍋 You Talk In Your Sleep 🍋 Unresolved Sexual Tension 🍋 New Old Flame 🍋 Go Seduce My Archnemesis 🍋 Bedsharing 🍋 Sex with the Ex/Break-Up Sex 🍋 In Public 

WEEK 2 (September 8th - 14th): Pick 1 or 2

🍋 Make-Up Sex 🍋 Battle Couple 🍋 Mission Sex 🍋 Work-Out Sex 🍋 Accidental Pervert 🍋 Bathing/Shower 🍋 Pool/Onsen 🍋 Sexual Fantasies 🍋 Blind Date 🍋 Aroused By Your____ (pick a feature) 

WEEK 3 (September 15th - 21st): Pick 1 or 2

🍋 Established Relationship 🍋 “Thank God We’re Alive” 🍋 Caught In The Act 🍋 First Times 🍋 Introduction By Hook-Up 🍋 Pining 🍋 Locked In Together In A Small Space/ Trapped Together 🍋 Huddling For Warmth 🍋 Socially Distanced Sex 🍋 Stupid Sexy Friend 🍋 Caught In The Rain 🍋 Living Food Platter/Eating Off You 🍋 Shunga

WEEK 4 (September 22nd - 30th): Pick 1 or 2

🍋 Mutual Masturbation 🍋 Awkward/Clumsy Sex 🍋 Oh Crap There’s Fanfic Of Us 🍋 Talking In Bed 🍋 Fidelity Test 🍋 Fake-NOT-Dating 🍋 Mindlink 🍋 Sex Games 🍋 Tinder 🍋 Blackout/Quarantine/Disaster Warning/Weathering The Storm

RULES

1. Rating: These fics don’t necessarily need to be M or, in the case of Ao3, E- rated. Obviously, they are very, very welcome to be explicit for this event, but you can also go T-rated and stay in lime or ‘blacked out’-territory if you’re uncomfortable with writing explicit scenes! Both is perfectly and absolutely welcome! This of course also goes for fanart - your fanart may depict sexy scenes, but does NOT have to be explicit! (It can, though! Be aware that for tumblr’s guidelines, when sharing your art first, you may have to clip your images as a sort of preview. The original can then be sent to me privately to include into the e-zine!) 2. Minimum Age of Characters: Since this is a community event, if you do go explicit M rated material: age them up where necessary! So that everyone can be comfortable writing and reading these, let them be 18 at the minimum if they’re going to openly and explicitly wohoo. (16-17 is the global average age of consent worldwide, and also the average age for first sex among girls in many western countries. However, since most fanfic readers are located in the US, where the age of consent is 18, we’re going with 18 so that everyone can be comfortable reading!) If you go for canon fics at a time they are below this age, where you do not want to age up (say you’re going for an episode fix!) please stay in T territory for this event. 3. Off limits: Depictions of sexual acts that contain harmful, violent and non-consenting behaviour with non-consenting individuals (or those that aren’t able to consent, for instance because of their age, or state of mind among else!). If it doesn’t fly by law or the ICD in real life, please refrain from depicting it in the context of this event. This means that dubcon and noncon will not be reblogged for the event, so that people can be safely consuming the content without being triggered. All content will be screened in this regard, and I may contact you regarding trigger warnings. This is not at all to censor content, or that this content is in any form less valid (as long as it is properly tagged and not including characters that aren’t of age), but simply to ensure a safe environment for everyone reading. 4. Tag your triggers. Except the aforementioned limitation of harmful content, nothing is off limits. Explore your kinks! But if you write something that might be offensive to your readers, please tag it. This is ALSO a good way for your readers to find exactly what they ARE looking for! On Ao3 this can be done directly on the fic tags, for FF fics and fic links you can do it here on Tumblr via the fic post tags or in ANs. This is in consideration of your readers. 5. You can obviously post art for this event too. All previous rules apply here, as well. Unfortunately, Tumblr is now against tasteful nudity. That doesn’t mean you can’t link to a deviant art or similar account though, should you want to. And, since this year will include an e-zine at the end of it, all art will still be included fully in it. Here too, please tag your triggers. If you still want to post art on Tumblr, choose a T rated image - clip them where needed, or keep them (semi-)clothed, show us a heated kiss, etc! (Obviously we would love ALL the art and the nude body is a beautiful, wonderful thing, but obviously Tumblr doesn’t agree with us anymore!) 6. Have fun! Celebrate sexuality in an open, sex-positive way with us, try to be unapologetic about your likes while you write this, and appreciate the beauty that comes in the form of content with a largely female-gazing creator-base and audience! Smut in fanfiction has been beautifully put as the subjectification of sexuality (as opposed to  objectification). So let’s celebrate this art form together! 7. Reviews: No one is forced to review. It can be uncomfortable to review a fic that contains sexual acts for any number of always valid reasons. Keep in mind, however, that much like a Burlesque dancer on stage, putting out sexual content can also be very intimidating to an author, and nothing is more discouraging than silence when baring yourself to an audience like this. That being said: Both Ao3 and FF have the option to review in anon mode. That means you have the option to remain anonymous while cheering the author on all the same. Just like the Burlesque dancer, your resident smut authors prefer to go on stage to loud cheering - it makes it all less awkward for them, and feels a little more like a big celebration!

If you’re unsure what sex positivity entails and want to read up, I wrote a post about it here.

This event is not supposed to cause harm. This means that I will screen all content before I reblog it here, and include it in the e-zine. So that everyone of age can feel safe reading the fanworks in the event, dubcon and noncon will not be reblogged and included in the e-zine, and accurate tagging and content warning will be watched. This does NOT MEAN that you cannot post this material: your own desire to write it and someone else’s desire to explicitly read this material are valid. I do not entitle myself to censor. It just means it will not be reblogged and shared through the event so that everyone may feel safe to read to the best of my ability. (But, of course, remember that I, too, might be biased, and not discover subtle forms of it, either. We’re all, in the end, a product of our upbringing and society, and I cannot be completely unbiased.)

During the event, I will be posting all Sailor Moon Smutember contributions in this format on my blog if you @ me to the post.

The official hashtag for the event is #smutember2020 hosted by the official smutember blog. Using it helps people find the content who search for it as well as those who wish to block it!

[frostbitepandaaaaa]

A, B, H, J, K, L, R, T, V, X,Z

so, i’m sure this is eons old. i’m sorry, my friend, my tumblr is busted. 

A: How did you come up with the title to [insert fic]?

i’m not sure what fic you are specifying, or if you didn’t specify for a reason, so i’m gonna just generalize here and assume it applies to my “bigger” stories.

“Ozymandian” is reference to Ozymandias, the famous poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley (motherfucker has too many ‘e’s in his name) in which a traveller finds the ruins of a once great empire, inscribed with the impassioned entreaty that said empire will remain forever. (“look on my works, ye mighty, and despair”) the mutation of ‘Ozymandias’ into an adjective was taken from Joanna Newsom’s song “Sapoikan. (“the cause is Ozymandian”). basically, my friend, it alludes to the follies and futilities of ‘greatness’ and of ‘permanence’-- on both sides of the Wall and in the games of the gods. 

As far as “Thumbprint Scar” goes, that’s a trickier one. the song that really spurred the inspiration for that story has three titles (”I Am All That I Need  Arroyo Seco / Thumbprint Scar”). i basically just picked the one i liked the most, and best fit the... theme, i guess, i am going for in that story. the theme being... that each mark a person leave upon you is individual and unique and is something you carry with you forever. 

“The Symptom of Time” is lifted directly from Joanna Newsom’s song titled “Time, As A Symptom”. this song t h o r o u g h l y fucked me up, as it was released shortly after i married my longtime partner and suddenly i realized that i had bound myself to someone for my entire life. a life of which i had no idea what would happen. a life of which could be exceedingly long, or terribly short. and what of their life? i don’t know what the fuck is going to happen to my now-husband. what if the unthinkable happened? what had i done?? the concept of time, of fate and binding was REALLY fucking with me, and Joanna just so happened to have written a song that perfectly summed up my existential dread/thrill. and then i wrote that story that tapped into all that sort of... terrible dread and wonderful exhilaration all at once and i just couldn’t help myself.

B: Any of your stories inspired by personal experience?

lmao well it seems that “The Symptom of Time” is definitely based on personal experience.  “Thumbprint Scar” is also loosely based on my own experiences. cowboy!Jon in that story is very much an amalgamation of Jon Snow (some book, but mostly show), Max Rockatansky from Fury Road, and my own dear sweet husband.  the picnic they have on the mountainside is loosely based on a similar scenario that happened very early on in our relationship. but, i mean, almost all writing is a reflection of the author, so...

H: How would you describe your style?

lol overly flowery? too much? doing the most? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

honestly i really don’t know. i’ve tried very hard over the years to “cultivate” a style, if you will, but i really, really couldn’t answer this question honestly with a fucking gun to my head but i’ll try? 

i like metaphor and simile (looking at you @hardlyfatal) and allusions to nature (earthly and cosmological). i also like witchy shit (glyphs, runes, gods and divinity). i don’t like to give much away and yet i can opine like fucking Dickinson. i love detail and hate introspection at the same time wtf. i love texture and rhythm. i’ll sit my ass down and ponder the syllabic weight of a sentence for far too long because it isn’t ‘concussive’ enough or my shit needs to be ‘softer’. more alliteration? should i put a refrain here? what about a paragraph break? fuck, i really don’t know it’s a mess but i love it so much it’s like solving a puzzle. 

J: Write or describe an alternative ending to [insert fic].

there’s like... no alternative endings i can think of for any of my fics, sorry my friend. 

K: What’s the angstiest idea you’ve ever come up with?

so, i lied, OP. i’ve had an “alternative” ending for Oz on my head for sometime, but it was more of a... theory of how the “bittersweet” ending would unfold on the show. i’ve thought about it a lot, and i think, ultimately, it would’ve been a great ending to the show and would have been a great, fufilling ending to it. i have considered, more than once, writing that version rather than the version i’ve had planned for Oz, just out of spite, but the truth is is that fanfic and ‘fanon’ are different. i don’t have the desire to write what i’m about to detail. 

i had always assumed that they would take the ‘mad queen’ route with Dany, not because she is actually mad, but because, no matter what she does or how hard she fights for others, her family’s reputation just never lets her ascend that ‘madness’ stain. Tyrion and Varys would eventually reveal themselves to be the ‘cold and calculating chess players’ they always were, and use her reputation against her, as well as her considerable forces/magic and what not to their own advantage. they would use her to overthrow Cersei, but also manipulate her into ‘achieving’ the Mad Queen status without her knowing. Cersei is the true Mad Queen, and they would use Cersei’s ruthlessness to their own advantage, somehow luring Dany into a trap of some sort in which she inadvertently sets off a Metric Shit Load of Wildfire that kills thousands and thousands of innocent people. This does one of two (or both) things: it reaffirms everyone’s long-standing biases against the Targs and their blood-thirst, thereby delegitimizing Dany’s claim and making her Public Enemy Number One and madness, and/or it actually triggers Dany’s so-called “descent into madness”. 

i am not even going to try to go into why a) this is angsty, b) why this is a way better ‘nihilistic’ and ‘bittersweet’ ending that dumber&dumber gave us and c) why i think this is what they were originally heading for but backed out at the last minute because they are both cowards and sexist pieces of shit. i’ll let you ponder that on your own. 

L: What’s the weirdest AU you’ve ever come up with?

the “Pacific Rim” one i am going to write one of these days, or the newest one i published-- “A Red Right Hand” 

R: Are there any writers (fanfic or otherwise) you consider an influence?

omg what a good question. non-fandom-wise, Cormac McCarthy and Tolkien are perhaps my biggest influencers. Joanna Newsom as well, though she isn’t a ‘fiction’ writer,  but her lyrics might as well be sensory overloads. Sigur Ros has also helped me push through many a scene in my time. 

as far as fanfic writers? holy shit. let me start with the OG, Lori. She wrote Paradigm of Uncertainty waaaaaay back in the day when i was bright-eyed and busy-tailed and balls-deep in the HP fandom. she was the first author i read where i was like ‘holy shit, fanfic can be just as good as books.’

then, i got hit over the head with Mulder/Scully and my shit was fucked up. khyber, anjou, and the most beautiful genius of them all: penumbra. 

then, fury road: @sacrificethemtothesquid underwater_owl, @fuckyeahisawthat and @v8roadworrier

anf finally, Jonerys: @justwandering-neverlost, @ashleyfanfic, @meisiesmut, @fierypen37, @xxthewolvenstormxx and @muttpeeta

T: Any fandom tropes you can’t stand?

honestly? no. are some overdone or perhaps, overall, not done well? yeah, sure, but among all those, there is one treasure of a fic that just never fails to tickle my fancy. i mean... arranged marriage? THERE’S ONLY ONE BED? SOULMATES???

V: A secondary (or underrated) character you want to see more of in fic?

*inhales* OLENNA!!!!!

X: A character you enjoy making suffer.

lmao this is gonna make me sound like a fucking psycho, but Jon and Dany and i don’t think i really need to explain why thanks. 

 Z: Major character death–do you ever write/read it? Is there a character whose death you can’t tolerate?

if the members of my ship make it out okay, i really don’t mind. i know that sounds callous, but whatever. of course i’ll be sad if other characters i love are killed off, but, ultimately, i’m reading fic for my ship, and if one of my ship dies.... well, I’M OUT. sorry not sorry. 

[startofamoment]

to all the WIPs i’ve loved before

rules: post your favorite parts of 3-5 fics that have been sitting abandoned in your drafts for ages. (for extra shame, throw in when you last worked on each thing.) tag 5 other writers to reflect on their life choices. 

a pen pals au of sorts in which jake and amy share a desk and communicate via post-it notes (last edited: december 2017)

Amy is going to murder her deskmate.

The literal trash heap that greeted her last Monday was one thing, the sticky orange soda stain from last month was another thing, but this – this blatant disregard of property and boundaries and the sanctity of office supplies – is the Last Straw.

Spread out across her entire desk is a good fourth of the Post-it notes from the brand new assorted set she got from her brother Tony. They’re all arranged to look like various Star Wars icons, and a few of them are filled in with marker for apparent color correction. It’s horrifying.

Grumbling, she begins taking apart Post-It Yoda, keeping the salvageable pieces in a stack and throwing out the rest. When she’s cleared her entire table, she grabs her favorite pen and a fresh sheet then writes:

Hi, Please refrain from wasting my Post-its in the future. Thank you. - Det. Amy Santiago

She stares at it for a moment and decides, since this is probably the only passive aggressive note she’s going to write her deskmate, she might as well add:

PS: I would appreciate it if you would leave our desk clean at the end of your weekend shifts.

After checking it over once more, she places it in the center of her desk, ready to be read the following Saturday.

a dianetti cake shop au in which rosa owns and runs a store called arlo’s (last edited: june 2017)

Gina takes a moment to look over some of the cakes on display before clearing her throat and leaning over the counter. “’Scuse me, can you help me get a custom cake order started?”

“Sure.” The baker wipes her hands on a dish towel before grabbing a small notebook and pen from one of her pockets. “What’s the occasion?”

“Some old geezer’s leaving our precinct to enjoy retired life, or something like that.”

“Retirement party? Cool. Tell me about this guy.”

“Oh, sweetie, I don’t know or care about him. I’m just here cause my boss told me to order a cake.”

A smirk forms on the baker’s lips. “Ha. Do you wanna just do a standard cake order then? I usually do the custom cakes for more personalized, special events.”

“That’s probably smart. Which one of your standard cakes say: ‘Congrats on being old and rich enough to never work another day in your life, but sorry you’re almost dead’?”

She snickers. “I don’t know about that first part, but how ‘bout an angel food cake as a ‘hope you go to heaven when you die’ sort of thing?”

Gina grins and fishes through her purse for her wallet. “Oh, you should know my expectations on this cake are out of this world high. I’m only here because Yelp told me you’re the Beyonce of baking.” (Actually, she’s here because at least three reviews claimed the baker-slash-owner was “terrifying” and “gorgeous.” – They were right, on both accounts.)

a sequel to i could listen to you all day // the “after ever after” story in which jake and amy navigate their first year together as soulmates (last edited: march 2017)

Jake’s phone buzzed on his desk, breaking him out of his happy daydream. He picked it up and opened a new message from Gina.

“god, quit making heart eyes at the new girl!! your conscience would be v disappointed, kiddo.”

Gina, who had been watching him like a hawk from her desk, expected him to get all flustered and to text or yell back something overly defensive. She raised a single eyebrow when his face instead broke into a goofy grin and he straight up giggled.

Across from him, Amy looked up from her case files. “What’s so funny?”

He shook his head and mumbled something about memes and the internet.

She rolled her eyes, but the corners of her lips curled up into a smile. After he redirected his attention to his computer screen, her expression morphed into the same openly adoring look he had on his face the entire morning.

And then it all clicked.

If Gina had stopped to think about it, she would have recognized the new disappointment she felt in both herself (for taking this long to put two and two together) and her childhood best friend (for not keeping her in the loop). As she had not stopped to process anything, she instead yelled across the bullpen: “OH MY GOD. JAKE AND AMY ARE SOULMATES!”

All work stopped, and everyone fell silent. For a good minute, all that could be heard was the faint snoring from Captain McGintley’s office.

“Gina,” Rosa half-snarled, half-whispered. “You can’t just say that.”

“Oops, my b. Y’all know I have no conscience now so…” She giggled, winked at the leather-clad detective, and went back to her game of Kwazy Cupcakes.

Jake let out an awkward laugh. “Well, uh, that was -”

Out of nowhere, Charles appeared right in front of their desks. “Is it true, Jakey? Was Amy the voice in your head all this time?”

“I -” He glanced at Amy for help.

She bit her lip and shrugged.

This wasn’t at all how he envisioned making the announcement, but there was no use denying it. Still looking straight at her, his face softened into a smile. “Yeah… We’re soulmates.”

Charles squealed loudly. “You said the S word! Does that mean it’s official?” He gasped. “Have you said ‘I love you’? Have you met each other’s parents? When’s the wedding? What are you naming your first child?”

pretty much a crack fic inspired by the media’s post-olympics obsession with tessa and scott // my spin on a vm au bc i still refuse to write jake and amy as ice dancers (last edited: may 2018)

Like many of the other bizarre situations he’s found himself in, this all started with Gina. Over the last year or so, she’d been posting random photos and videos of all of them at the precinct. (“I’m devoting my energy to my new project, Ginazon,” she’d declared to the entire bullpen. “It’s a one-stop online portal for my legions of followers. I’m just giving the people what they want!”) Given that this was Gina of all people, Jake wasn’t at all surprised to find out that each post garnered hundreds of likes, but he’d never bothered to venture into the comments section. He’d never known about the apparent niche following that had formed, the group of fans – for lack of a better word – waiting with bated breath for him and Amy to get together.

Charles had only spurred them on, what with all the various Easter eggs on his culinary blog. (“This place has everything,” he’d written once. “My co-workers Jake and Amy even gave it their stamp of approval after they’d shared a quick lunch there before a long stakeout. Make sure to ask for the winter salsa; it’s wonderful!”) He’d sworn that none of it was intentional and that he would never do anything to sell them out, but everything he’d written had still been catalogued and analyzed by the pseudo-experts of the fandom. At this point, Jake’s main regret is not reading Charles’ weekly email blasts.

Their downfall – or rise to viral glory – came when someone from the so-called G-Hive happened to be in just the right place at just the right time, catching their (second) completely-platonic, spur-of-the-moment, done-in-the-name-of-justice kiss on camera. By the next morning, “Undercover Cops Lock Lips Before Locking Up Wanted Criminal” had been viewed on YouTube over a million times.

With everything about the entire situation already being so weird, they’d decided to just ignore their newfound fame in the same way they’d pretended the kisses never happened. (“We’re a great team. We work great together. Nothing should mess that up,” he’d said, repeating nearly his exact words from the night before.)

Evidently, there was no escaping this though. A formal press conference was set up, which wasn’t too out of the ordinary for cases that caught the general public’s attention, except they’d ended up having to say more about their dating lives than the investigation or arrest. He can still feel his heart lurching in his chest at the first relationship-related question, still hear Amy loudly stammering out some vague answer about being “very professional.”

a smutty soulmate au in which jake and amy unknowingly share dreams every now and then (last edited: november 2017)

At this moment in time, Amy Santiago is undeniably, incomparably, drop dead gorgeous.

More specifically: she’s in the hot red dress Kylie convinced her to buy on their last post-trivia night celebratory shopping spree; she’s wearing a matching killer shade of lipstick picked out by her fashion-forward, shockingly sexual 13-year-old niece; and she’s got her hair swept into that one elegant yet fun side ponytail that caught her eye in a magazine a few weeks back.

Normally, she’d be proud of herself for managing to pull off such a look, except–

It’s been a good several hours since she tossed her dress into the hamper, wiped the makeup off her face, and tugged the elastic tie from her hair. She’d buried her head into her pillow and wheeze-cried herself to sleep shortly after changing into her pajamas, so overwhelmed with shame and disappointment over the night’s party-gone-wrong.

The thick haze shrouding her current surroundings tells her she’s in another one of her soulmate’s dreams, which helps a tiny bit in explaining her current appearance but really opens up more questions than answers.

tagging: @santiagoswagger​ @three-drink-amy​ @do-me-decimalsystem​ @arnie-santiago​ @sergeant-santiago

for the record, this was inspired by @disruptedvice​ and @elsaclack​’s responses [x,x] to the writing meme!! i thought it was super clever of them to feature little snippets from various works and felt this would be a good way to give unfinished/abandoned fics some love!