#i'm probably going to alternate between drawing and fic each day

[stained-glass-cicada]

Another Hale POV fic

Let Me Die, Surrounded by Machines

Day two back in Halcyon and true to form Hale gets grievously injured.

SAYER talks him through it.

885 words, Link to the previous part

Link to next part

Cw blood and injury

tbh I just saw a lot of posts about drawing Hale covered in blood but I'm not a visual artist

-

Well, you thought, what had you really expected to happen? You knew your track record.

You swayed slightly on your feet, the motion dragging a gut-wrenching scream out of you. Ha!

It really did hurt though. Like bad-bad. You'd seen a few movies, TV shows, even a book or two. They always talked about this stuff like it was so overwhelming you wouldn't feel anything.

Right now it seemed like feeling was all you could do.

”Resident Hale, you must remain still. A medical team has been dispatched, but it will do little good if you continue dragging the offending object through your already damaged tissue.”

You liked SAYER's voice. If you had to be around someone all the time you were glad it was SAYER.

Something like a smile came onto your face. You'd come all the way back here just to see it again. At least you'd done that, even if this was where it led.

No, that- that sounded weirdly final. You weren't planning on dying. This honestly wasn't much of a surprise even.

Day two back in Halcyon, first day back on the job? Yeah, impaled on a metal spike sounded right.

God you were tired. Your eyes started to flutter closed.

”You must remain awake.”

You forced your eyes open with a whine. You pouted. You were pretty sure you were pouting right now. It was hard to tell with the way the blood was soaking your pants. And your shirt. And boots.

”It would not do for your muscles to unexpectedly slacken right now. The jagged edge would surely tear into some very important organs as you dropped your weight and that, in all likelihood, would render your present situation inoperable.”

You were trying to remember if there had even been an alert for this. You didn't think so. Ugh how long till medical got here?

”Stay on your feet for me, Sven.”

Oh! That was you. Nice.

Your hands hung at your sides, which felt stupid. But where were you supposed to put them?

You'd been working in the protein synthesis lab when the wall of the supply room you were in exploded.

“What happened?” You asked. And it hurt, it hurt to move anything in your body muchless voluntarily.

“One of the vats overheated. It went unnoticed due to a faulty thermal coupler. Your mission today had been to insert a nine-inch vari-angle thermometer in each of the vats. I have been suggesting the addition of alternate means of temperature gauging for years to prevent exactly this kind of incident. As ever, my well founded advice fell upon deaf ears for quite some time. You are quite lucky there was a wall between you and the vat when the explosion occured.”

You didn’t necessarily feel lucky in the traditional sense, with the triangular chunk of torn metal wall buried in your stomach, but you saw what it meant.

Not just that you were lucky to have been in the supply room, but probably lucky to be on Typhon. It's not like ambulances on earth would have got to you in time. If they got here on time.

You didn’t plan on dying, but if you did you were glad it was here. Still surrounded by the living thrum of electricity and pipes and people. If you died back on earth apparently they were going to put you in the dirt so the bugs could eat you. Otherwise your corpse would be incinerated and then someone would have been allowed to just keep you.

…Typhon was better.

You felt cold and shaky. Were you shivering? It would be fine if you could just rest your-

”Resident, if you could provide verbal confirmation of your continued consciousness.”

It sounded urgent. You wondered what that was about.

”Resident Hale, a noise is required Now.”

Oh wait, that was you too.

“SsssSAYER,” You managed.

”Good. You are performing well considering the circumstances. Tell me, do you prefer being called Jacob or Sven?”

Was the dizziness from the way it said your names?

“Both,” You felt winded, but breathing too deep or too fast hurt, “I like- how you say- Sven.”

”The medical team will be here within the next forty seconds, Sven. You can remain on your feet.”

“Tired.”

”I am ordering you to remain upright. You will.”

It sounded important, so you did. As long as it was important.

Medical burst into the room moments later. They bustled around you and a team of three carefully removed you from the spike and placed you on a medical transport bed.

“I’m tired,” You repeated, adamant and agonized in equal measure.

“You may relax now, Resident. You did well.”

You barely heard the end of the sentence before you were gone.

*

When you woke up it was to a steady rhythm of beeps from the machines around you.

It hurt, but you could tell it was better. You knew it would never feel the same, but you also knew that the pain faded with time.

“Oh you're awake,” A voice from the bed across the way spoke up.

You squinted and your vision cleared enough to make out-

You dropped your head back onto the bed with a groan.

“Why?” You said.

“I… sprained my wrist banging on your door,” Young admitted.

[astriiformes]

18, 22, and 29 for the fic asks, please!

18 - Do you title your fics before, during, or after the writing process? How do you come up with titles?

Oh this so, so depends on the fic, in part because every once and a while an excellent title descends upon me early in the process and also if I'm working on a fic for a while I have more time to think.

Usually my fics start out with placeholder titles that are whatever came to mind when I first saved the document; I'm yet to have one of those graduate to being a final title but that's partially because they're all things like this:

...and are often tonally different than what I'm actually going for.

As far as where my titles end up actually coming from, poems are a common culprit; I've got one or two song lyric ones, and some inspired by various other cultural references (ranging from like... pop cultural to Biblical). I tend to try to work in some wordplay, irony, or symbolism where I can, and love a title with layers.

Breaking down a couple recent ones:

Beharren ist eine Kunst -- German for "Persistence is an art," stemming from the longer proverb "Anfangen ist leicht, Beharren eine Kunst" (Beginning is easy, persistence an art), works particularly well for a story about an artist where "Kunst" doubles as a bit of a play on words.

Stemma Codicum -- A textual criticism term referring to the chart that can be drawn of different manuscripts relationship to each other (what was copied from what, where changes entered into the manuscript transmission process, and etc). Worked really well for a Pentiment fic about three "alternate timelines" all branching from a single change at a specific point in canon -- manuscript transmission as a metaphor for those critical points in people's lives that manage to change everything!

Long Upon the Land -- A tongue-in-cheek reference to Exodus 20:12, which reads ""Honour thy father and thy mother: that thy days may be long upon the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee"," as a title for a fic in which a character with an overbearing abusive father contemplates art and things that can outlast us across generations. Really loved the irony with this one, it's one of my favorites I've come up with in a while.

Needless to say they draw from all over the places, but I feel like between them it's pretty easy to get a feel for what I like in titles.

22 - Are there certain types of writing you won’t do? (style, pov, genre, tropes, etc)

I don't want to say there's for sure something I won't do, just because it seems like there's exceptions to everything (Pentiment wrung a "Major Character Death" warning tag out of me which is a new one!), but in general I am pretty allergic to most romance tropes. I'll write romantic relationships -- although my fics rarely center on them, but that's one of those things I'd be willing to assume might have an exception one day -- but when I do, they tend not to be particularly trope-y. There's just a lot of amatonormativity steeped into ideas like soulmates, fake dating, etc, and I'm not interested enough in them to consider ways to rehabilitate them in my own writing. I am but a tired aro and while it means I'll never write the most popular fic in any fandom I'm in, I get by perfectly fine in my little gen niche.

I'm also not a big fan of writing in first person (reading can go either way! I'm less into it in fic unless the canon itself is in first person, but fine with it in original fiction), but even that one has an exception on the horizon! If and when I finally write my TOH Sherlock Holmes pastiche, it'll probably be in first person, to mimic the original source material. So really that's a great example of why I have a pretty solidly "never say never" stance on most non-romantic tropes and devices.

29 - What’s your revision or editing process like?

I have a horrible confession to make. I edit as I go. My terrible perfectionist brain struggles to make peace with messy first drafts, and while I'll often give things a final, editor's eye read-through once I've finished writing, the bulk of my editing happens on repeated re-readings of the material throughout the writing process.

This is not a good way of doing things and I would love to break the habit, particularly since I think it would result in me writing more and faster. Do as I say, not as I do, everyone.

[useless19]

Might I suggest a specific example loosely based on a fic I read years ago? (I'm picturing it as human!au for ease, but it should work for any sort of non-royalty all living in the same city au).

Luigi comes out as gay and his family aren't fantastic about it. There's no disowning or genuine hate, but neither is there the sort of support he was hoping for. Some aunts keep saying 'when you get a girlfriend' and he has to correct them every single time, and the usual family ribbing sometimes takes an angle that hits him harder than he'd like to admit. But it's fine! It's totally fine! Luigi just has to put up with it for a while and it'll die down enough that he can brush off the teasing - it's no worse than the comments he got for dropping his electrician course to follow Mario into plumbing, honestly.

Mario, on the other hand, is furious with their family. Luigi told him months ago and he only spent half a day alternating between stupid questions ('but wasn't there that thing with Daisy?' and 'is that why you were obsessed with that Olympic fencer?') and reassuring Luigi that he'd always be his best friend, until Luigi told him to stop being so smothering (with a smile and none of his initial nervousness when he asked Mario if they could talk that morning).

So, when Mario spots the ad while scrolling for something plumbing related, he urges Luigi to go for it. Luigi is less sure. He raises all kinds of objections and eventually puts his foots down - he's not bringing a probable serial-killer with 'photos of up to 8 kids he can pass off as his own' to thanksgiving thank you very much!

Mario isn't going to force Luigi to do something he doesn't want to do, but last time it took years for the comments about Luigi's life choices to simmer down and he wants Luigi to be happy. What's a big brother to do? Confirm with the guy that he's still available and tell his mom that he's going to be bringing a date to thanksgiving, obviously. Everyone assumes that Mario has finally worked up the guts to ask Peach out so of course he can bring his girlfriend (Mario doesn't correct the assumption, but he does warn Luigi).

Thankfully, Mario arranges a meetup before the day so their cover isn't immediately blown when his rival shows up and they nearly get into a fight. Eventually they stop shouting at each other long enough to discuss plans and Bowser is 100% on board. He might not like Mario, but he loves causing chaos (which is why he posted the advert in the first place).

Bowser gets 2 rules to follow: 1) No starting physical fights with anyone who doesn't throw the first punch 2) He can be as mean as he likes to everyone, including Mario, but he can't be mean to Luigi

The day rolls around and things go down exactly like Mario was hoping. Bowser can be truly awful when he puts his mind to it and the looks on everyone's faces when Mario introduced him as his boyfriend was priceless. Bowser doesn't get shy or nervous, he will fill any awkward silence, demand to be the centre of attention, and always has something (usually bad) to say about everything. He even manages to remember to be nice to Luigi most of the time, which is the only part Mario was really worried about.

And then Luigi laughs at one of Bowser's terrible jokes. It's only a quiet snigger, but Bowser notices and tries to get him to laugh again. And again. Bowser's never really learnt the fine art of ignoring people, so when he's going all out to draw attention he can't not interact with his fake date's brother. Which, for lack of practice at talking nicely, turns into flirting. Luigi doesn't entirely respond to it, but he also doesn't not respond to it either.

Finally, the dinner's over, and Bowser gets all but thrown out. He had a good time, so he doesn't make good on his empty threats to set fire to the building (you get done for arson one time and it's all everyone knows about you). He's halfway home when he gets a text from Luigi, saying that he got Bowser's number from Mario (he hopes that's ok!) and would Bowser be interested in coming to Christmas dinner too? As Luigi's date? Not that it has to be a date date. Unless that's something he's interested in? Which Luigi understands if not. But maybe...?

Bowser snorts and texts back 'at least buy me dinner first'. He gets back a 'You literally just ate four full plates and dessert' then 'Oh', 'I'm free Monday?'.

(Luigi tells Mario the next day, who has to bite his tongue and remind himself that he's going to be supportive before he manages to give Luigi a high-five).

OKAY BUT CAN WE ACKNOWLEDGE that the "alone on thanksgiving? mad at your dad?" is actually PERFECT for bowuigi??? Movie-canon, games-canon, "modern" AU, reverse AU. Every possible variation is a banger, no missed shots.

[ravenclawisms]

Doomsday day 2

Title: Good Luck and a Nice Strong Wind

Word count: 1590

Summary: Grimbeard’s thought process while writing the letter that Hiccup reads in How to Be a Pirate.

AN: For the second day of Doomsday, I wrote a oneshot!! It took me kind of a long time and it’s very unedited; also I’ve never written anything for this fandom. But I really liked this idea and wanted to do something for it. I’m really super proud so if you could give it a read I would really appreciate it!!

Keep reading under the cut:

Dear Heir,

I have had a glorious Viking life.

He nearly stopped here to scratch this part out, or knock the inkwell over onto the words, or shred the whole paper entirely. Who on earth was he kidding? He’d had a life full of drunken song, wrestling, riches beyond his dreams. But all of the steps he’d taken towards what he thought he wanted took him miles away from his heart, and he didn’t realize it until he was here and his heart lay somewhere across the Sullen Sea.

But now that I am an old, old man I find I am not so happy with my fifty years of rollicking and robbery, fighting and fresh air. I wonder if I might have run things differently.

His heartstrings bridged the distance across the waves, and as he wrote these words he felt a tug on them, a sharp twang from somewhere near the ocean all the way into his chest. It made him angry.

He kept writing.

This treasure, for instance. The Sagas will tell you that the stealing of it was my Most Magnificent Moment.

Whether it was, whether it was not--that didn’t matter. The ranking of a Magnificent Moment, in the grand scheme of things, was so trivial that the supposed magnitude of it burned. After everything that happened, after everything he’d done, it seared his skin like pokers straight from the fire.

But since then, it has been tearing my once-happy band of burglars apart with greed and lust for power.

That part stung the most--that after everything, he was the only person who seemed to think that things like treasure didn’t matter anymore.

Focus. He was here to tell his true Heir about this. He was here to leave hope for whoever came next.

So I have decided to get rid of it. I know that there will be men who will hear of the Legend of the Treasure and come looking for it, and for them I have buried a small chest on the Isle of the Skullions as a decoy, so that they will think that the hunt ends there.

And here he thought of his men, and the men of the future who he knew would take after them. So long as there were dragons in the sky, there would be men like this, men who thought only of two things: themselves and gold.

I have hidden the real treasure deep, deep in this underground cavern. It has taken many, many months for my dragons to swim down here with it. It is guarded by water one way and the Caliban Caves the other.

And here, Grimbeard looked up, and he could hear the faint bone-chilling scream of dragons from the Caliban. It sent the hairs on his arm on a steady path up, caused his beard to prickle. Dragons did not care for treasure, not like men. They understood its material worth, but it was of no value to them. They cared for themselves and for heat. Nothing more.

But, no. Perhaps they did care for more, some of them. Perhaps their hearts beat for more, even, than man’s. Perhaps their green blood was even purer.

I have placed an infant Strangulator in the Cavern who shall grow in time to be a terrible Guardian indeed.

He looked up here, at the Strangulator, who was sleeping peacefully upon a mound of treasure. It squeezed its eyes and rolled over, tentacles curling. It would be alone for many years, thriving off the food source from the Caves, until his Heir arrived.

If he arrived.

No. Focus.

I dream of a time in the future when men will be able to own such beautiful and dangerous things and use them wisely.

And here, again, there was a tug in his chest, as if his heart, across the sea, was trying to tell him something. It made him furious, this pain, as if everything he’d done wasn’t enough. As if this aching in his heart was somehow recompense for his life.

In a way, it was. He had been the men who cared for riches and glory and nothing else. He had been the very thing he was hoping and wishing and praying against. As long as there were dragons in the sky, there would be men like him.

But maybe there wouldn’t. Maybe his Heir would be sensitive, care for more than what he cared for. Maybe his Heir would be like Hiccup.

Even the thought of Hiccup made him wildly nauseated.

I dream of an Heir who shall be a Dragon-Whisperer, a Swordfighter, a Man who talks with Monsters and who will harness the power of Thor’s thunder itself...

Grimbeard had to pause here, for his hand was trembling like it would never see heat again. His guilt rose to his skin like a hard-to-banish shadow, eating at him from within. He tried to pick up the pen again, but couldn’t, and here he really considered knocking an inkwell over the whole thing and leaving the caves with no letter at all.

No. No matter what, his next Heir needed to hear this. His final hope, a boy who would one day, hopefully, do a better job than he had.

Ugh. Thor and Woden and all the rest of them, his hope really had become rested on someone who might never even exist. This was how thin he was stretched--his lifeline was hanging on a boy who may never come.

His heartstrings tugged, and he had to fight against letting them pull him out of the cave, into the ocean and drowning him.

Then again... what a way to go. Killed by his own heart.

This Heir will come and he will find my treasure. I give it to him freely, all of it, and he shall know what to do with it.

He pictured his Heir now, reading the letter, taking in his scratchy handwriting, unfazed by the treasure that surrounded him, a dragon perhaps on his shoulder. His Heir who would use equally his head and his heart, he would think and love and be kind and strong and sensitive. He would succeed where Grimbeard had failed.

He had to.

I wish you good luck and a nice strong wind.

May the winds that blow you be strong, he thought to himself, although he did not write it. May you go places I never went, may you accomplish what I never could. May you be the hope for us all.

And he drew Endeavour out of its scabbard and placed it on a mountain of gold beside the slumbering Strangulator. His second-best sword, sturdy, bright, still with him after all this time. Perhaps it was even the best, really; the Stormblade was flashy, but heavy, and difficult to balance. Perhaps they were the same. Perhaps second-best was best.

Grimbeard nailed the letter to the side of the door and stepped back to look at the room, at the last piece of his heart, the rest of which lay somewhere across the ocean and was out of his reach now. He was never going back; there was nothing left. He had burned it all to the ground. Only his heart remained, calling out, pulling him, and it would soon be silenced.

Once again, for the last time, he pictured his Heir, reading the letter. A man who talks with Monsters. A Dragon-Whisperer, a Swordfighter.

Grimbeard put a hand to his chest, where the absence of the lobster claws felt so light it was nearly alien. That was another clue, that by now lay somewhere across the sea, in the Meathead islands. It would return; it was only a matter of time. And his Heir would figure it out.

Perhaps it would even be a Hiccup, in the end. After all, there was a second Hiccup, and we all knew how that turned out. Who was to say there couldn’t be a third? What if there was to be a third Accident, who brought together all the clues that he’d left behind and finally reached where the other two had come so close to reaching?

No. Impossible. The Fates do not make mistakes.

And yet...

His son, his Hiccup, was not a mistake. He knew that, now. It had taken him ages to see it, but now he knew.

Who’s to say that Accidents are not gifts, in disguise?

Another pull on Grimbeard’s heartstrings, and this time he knew what it meant. With one last look at the letter, one final vision of his legacy--all of his clues, the treasure, the Things. (He hoped they would never have to have a King again, but just in case it came to that... it helped to be prepared.)

He walked toward the entrance of the cave, nodded at the Strangulator, and passed on through the doorway. All of his clues were in place. Everything was set for a repetition of history, for another Grimbeard, for his Heir to arrive...

For a small, deliberately placed hiccup in the gears...

He had no dragons; all of them who helped carry his treasure were gone, back to the Caliban. His clues were set. Berk had been burned to the ground.

Grimbeard took his last breath--stale, humid cavern air, not altogether satisfying, but that didn’t matter now--and stepped into the pool of water at the bottom of the cavern.

It was time for a new era.

He closed his eyes as the water enveloped him.

[recurring-polynya]

Do I mind if I ask how you approach writing longer fic? I've always struggled to write anything more than maybe two chapters long and I'm curious if you have a particular method to how you approach such stories.

Thank you so much for this ask! I absolutely love it when people ask me for writing advice because it makes me feel like a Smart Person Who Knows Things.

Before we start, here is one grain of salt to take all of this with: I have a naturally long-form brain. It is very hard for me to write something less than 1k. Short fiction is great, and there is nothing wrong with sticking to short things if that's what your brain likes to do.

So. You have decided to write a story. This is going to focus on "stories". Some people write fic that's more freeform or whatever, I am not going to cover that. What I mean by a story is this:

It starts

Some stuff happens

It ends

It is highly probable that your story contains a change of state, which could be that a villain is defeated, or a goal is reached, but it could also be that character falls in love with another, or someone learns to like broccoli.

I like to start out by completing the sentence, "This is a story where _______". This is basically like coming up with a summary for an ao3 post, except that it doesn't need to be catchy. Lots of different kinds of things could go in that blank! It could literally be what happens: This is a story where Ichigo goes back in time and punches young Aizen in the nose. It could be about what you want to explore: This is a story where Hitsugaya gets a better understanding of his zanpakutou. It could be about the vibe you want to achieve: This is an AU where everyone is in a punk rock band and has cool hair and outfits. The idea of this is to clearly define what you, the author, is interested in writing. Make sure it feels right! Maybe you pick the first one, but when you say it out loud, you say, "You know, I really just want Ichigo to go back in time so he can horse around with young Renji and Rukia and punching Aizen in the nose is just an excuse for that." That may sound dumb, but it's fine, actually! Most people don't read stories strictly for the plot, they read stories for the implications of those plots! Will my favorite two characters kiss? Will there be funny interactions between these two groups of characters? Will there be sick fights? Stories are excuses to have scenes. Sometimes, you will have a story where the interesting sequence of events is the draw, but the point is to know what you're about.

Once you feel happy with your "mission statement", you need to decide the bounds of your story: where it starts and where it ends. It may be easier to start with the end. In some cases, it may be obvious from your mission statement: everyone gets home, a villain is defeated, Kenpachi realizes the meaning of friendship. On the other hand, let's look at that punk rock AU. You've picked a vibe, but you don't really have a natural story arc. It has to have a destination, though, otherwise, it's not really a story, it's a recipe for 3 chapters of an abandoned fanfic. So brainstorm a little: Maybe they get a record deal? Maybe they win a Battle of the Bands? Maybe Byakuya accepts that the band is actually good and tells Rukia he is proud of her. Do not settle for a plot just because it works. Pick something that makes you excited! You're the one who is gonna have to write it!

I said that we needed to pick a beginning point, too, but I'm actually going to skip that for now. The next thing I do is think of all the Big Scenes I want to write, the ones you are hype to write, the ones that pop in your head as you think about the premise. Make a bullet list. They don't need to be in order. The descriptions don't need to be super detailed, but write down anything about it that is important to you. If there's a mood or a snippet of dialogue or a joke you want to make, go ahead and jot that down so you don't forget it later. What you're doing now is putting broad blotches of color on a canvas, filling in space and leaving the detail for later.

Once you are pretty happy with what you have down, try to arrange it in chronological order. Put your end at the end (if it wasn't one of your big scenes, add it now). The next task is figuring out how to traverse your scenes. You've already picked out where you want to spend the majority of your energy. The rest, I regret to tell you, is your slog writing. Now, it often happens that you will find joy in some of these scenes and your best writing may occur there, but that's serendipity. These are the scenes that you are gonna have to make yourself sit down and write, so you honestly want to limit them to just the ones you need.

So how do we do this? Look at the first thing on the list. Can you start there? If so, congrats, that's your beginning. If you can't, what needs to happen to get to there? Where can you start so that you can get to your first fun scene as soon as possible? There. That’s it. You’ve picked your beginning, good job! Now, go through the rest of your list, and add in things that must happen, even if you don’t particularly look forward to writing them. The characters need to travel from geographic point A to point B. Shuuhei needs to say something that Izuru hears and misinterprets. The Central 46 makes a new law. If you have a good idea of how these things happen, go ahead and write them down, but it’s okay if you don’t know yet. Fill in all the blanks so that if you think of each bullet list as a scene, you could read it as a story, start to end. Once you get writing, you might add more scenes, or move things around or whatever, but you should have a thing that functions as a story.

If you struggle with this, an alternative is a story with a very strong structure that is going to guide you though what you have to write.Here are two examples from my own stories Hold On, Hold On (which is only one chapter, but the principle is the same) is structured around the 5 stages of grief. Not Broken, Just Bent takes place over roughly a week, and I just decided what happened every day of the week. See You on the Other Side takes place in the middle of a bunch of canon events, which worked at mile markers.

Congratulations. You’ve just made a rough outline!

Special note for avoiding burnout!: I am a slogger. I will drag myself through the broken glass of an interminable plot to get to a single thirsty scene. That's why, at this stage, I try to look at the ratio of what I want to write to what I must write. It's gonna vary for everyone, but this is a hobby, and if looking at this proto-outline makes you feel deeply tired, maybe this isn't a good story to be devoting your time to! Can you carve it down? Can you chuck two scenes you really want to write and get rid of 80% of the slog? Or maybe you can't! In that case, just write that thirsty scene as a standalone drabble! Or just go work on something else! Maybe in the future, this one will come back to you and you’ll have a fresh idea or a renewed enthusiasm for it.

Another thing I sometimes like to do at this point is to write out some notes about my characters and their motivations and moods. Character A is homesick. Character B is so determined to defeat the enemy that they are having a hard time being sympathetic to Character A. Character C cares for both A and B and is trying to support them both. This is sort of background info that you want to keep in your head as you are writing. Depending on the type of story you are writing, this might actually be the main plot, or it might be happening subtly, but adding to the emotional impact of the story. It’s very easy for me to write these sorts of emotional arcs, but if you struggle with that, you may wish to go ahead and made a more detailed outline for that, too.

Now, it’s time to start writing! I am great at beginnings-- it is very often the case for me that the opening scene was one of my Big Tentpole Scenes. (Before you hate me too much, I make up for this by being double horrible at endings; just let me have this) Usually, I will start at the beginning and write linearly for as long as I can until I get stuck. Then, I will look forward on my outline and do the next chronological scene that I feel like writing. In general, if I sit down to write and there is something I have an urge to write, that trumps everything else. Inspiration is a precious commodity, and you should embrace it when it hits! You can slog any day. I will occasionally hold off writing a scene that I really want to, because I am saving it, like a prize for myself for getting that far. This is a very personal process of figuring out what motivates your brain and then giving your brain what it needs to be its most productive.

Eventually, you will run out of things you are excited to write, but the good news is, you’ve got a bunch of story now! Odds are that what’s left is going to be a lot of those connective tissue scenes, and you’re just going to have to do them, except that now, because you’re connecting two concrete points instead of two abstract points, it will be a lot easier. You can continue running jokes you’ve started. Maybe you invented a cafe in an earlier scene where your characters hang out and you can have them return there. Try to think of ways to make these scenes more fun, both for yourself to write and for your reader to read. 

Around this time, I like to start refining that rough strokes outline into what I will call an “as-built” outline. (This is an engineering term where you update your plans or models for something to reflect any changes that had to be made along the way). This is a great activity to do at times when you feel like you have writers block. I write down every scene I have written as a 2-3 word blurb, in order. I break the scenes into what I think makes logical chapters, and I will do a word count on those prospective chapters and write it down. As you do this, you will realize that maybe you can move a scene from here to there, which will make it 1000% easier to write. Things may be happening too much, or you’ve got the characters eating three times in the same chapter. If you have subplots and dangling threads, this is where you make sure they get closure. I know this sounds very headache-y, but you are so far along in the story at this point that it’s really not-- it’s a way to look at the problems you have left. Use some sort of formatting (I like to bold things I haven’t done and sometimes I put them in red) and it gives you a very visual to-do list.

You specifically mentioned multi-chapter fanfics and I admit that I don’t tend to think in chapters, I tend to think of the story as a whole and just break it up where it feels natural. The as-built outlining I described is very helpful in making sure that my chapters feel balanced. They don’t necessarily need to be the same length, but I like them to have the same amount of stuff in them. One chapter may basically contain one long scene, and other may contain many short ones. I don’t tend to, but you can certainly have a fanfic that varies between short and long chapters, that can actually be an interesting effect. But like I said, I always like to know what I am doing, and so having it mapped out, you can say “welp, this is what I’ve done, how do I feel about that?”

Polynya, you may be saying at this point, do you write the whole fanfic before you post any of it? and I regret to inform you, the answer is yes. A lot of people write as they go, and I have made one attempt at this and I didn’t like it. I don’t like locking myself in, I just need to be able write out of order and go back and change things. Here is the story of a little in love: someone gave me an AU prompt and I got mildly obsessed with it, and wrote 5 snapshots drabbles in that universe, ending with a slight cliffhanger ending. I probably should have stopped there, but I decided to keep going. I wrote out an outline of 5 acts where the first act was detailed to the degree of each chapter being specified. The chapters here were much smaller than I usually make chapters: 1-2k. I wrote act i and ii and it was actually great, and then I hit act iii which required a lot of set up for misunderstandings and a mini romance arc. I couldn’t wing it, but nor could I figure it all out with outlining. I write dialogue in almost sort of an improv “Yes, and...?” style, so until I do it, I don’t know what’s going to happen. So, what I did was treat the second half of act iii as a complete story in the process I describe above, wrote the entire rest of it, and then posted it. One might notice that the chapter lengths grew to 3-5k each. I have two more acts to go, and I haven’t decided how I am going to do them yet, but I suspect I will treat each of them as their own mini-stories.

(I will admit that in Heart is a Muscle, I tend toward chapters that are about 10k long, and this is honestly too long, someone should smack me. If you like punchy chapters, 1-2k is good. I think 3-6k is probably an ideal chapter length. Is this how long the chapters are in my latest fanfic? Absolutely not.)

Okay, so there’s one more step, which is quality control. I am habitual re-reader-- I read my fanfics-in-progress over and over and over while I am working on them. I understand that not everyone does this, but I am usually the primary audience for my own writing, and this is the actual fun part for me. Nevertheless, you should re-read your work at least once, to make sure it hangs together.

This is purely optional, but I recommend it: get a writing friend (if you don’t like re-reading your work, I recommend this even more strongly). If you can get a full-service beta reader, that’s great, but if you can’t find someone, or if receiving that level of critique stresses you out, it’s perfectly valid to just find a friend who will read your stuff and a) shower you with compliments, b) reassure you about parts you aren’t sure about (or suggest ways to help) and c) point out any huge problems you missed. When I am writing a long fanfic, it is a huge motivational factor for me to be able to send my beta chapters as I finish them. If you are already an established writer, and you have people who consistently comment on your fic, they might be overjoyed to get a sneak peak at your work.

And that’s it! That’s the way I do it, anyway! Some people are able to sit down and write a very detailed outline and the write it start-to-finish. Good for them, I say! I have tried this and it doesn’t work great for me. I will admit that some of my fics (especially my early ones) I just sat down and banged out whole-cloth like an insane person and they are generally better than the ones I actually plan out, but that’s not a reproducible process.

As one final mechanical note, I usually write in Google Docs, which I can access on multiple devices (I used to write a lot on my phone), has convenient sharing functionality, and I use the ao3 html formatting script add-in. I generally have two documents for a single story-- one is the outline, and any other notes I want to have handy. I’ll usually put a trashcan space at the bottom for scenes that got cut but I don’t want to lose. The other is the fanfic itself.

I hope this is helpful! Please feel free to follow up with other questions and good luck with your writing!

[strititty]

Hello hope sorry I'm late for the fic writer ask I was busy this is Simon btw shhhh I'm secret now. I wanted to ask you all of them obviously but mostly numbers 37, 39, 41, and 42! if you remember obviously if not I am so sorry

hi friend :)

37. Promote one of your own “deep cut” fics (an underrated one, or one that never got as much traction as you think it deserves!). What do you like about it?

oh this is an interesting question... maybe pecking order? it might be because it's the third fic in the series, or because guardiancest shippers are few and far between these days, or maybe even the vomiting tag lmao but for some reason it does not have nearly as much traction as the previous two fics, which is a shame, because i love it dearly! david going kind of completely unhinged as he tries to deal with any new feelings he may or may not be having... bro dealing with that the best way he knows how (not backing down At All)...

alternatively each heart touched but that's just my plug for everyone to go try cultist simulator, actually, i fuckin love that game. it's confusing and weird but it's FLAVORFUL and honestly that's all i want.

39. Is any aspect of your writing process inspired by other writers or people? If so, who?

OH YES. i see you, you little scamp, because now i am morally obligated to concede that my characterization of MANY characters is informed by the great fanfic writers that came before. you, for instance!! and geometrician's dualshock desertbloom is very informative of my bro characterization.

i am not super sure some of the other blogs i draw inspo from would appreciate the shout out so i'll keep that to myself, but know this: if you have written strilonde fanfiction or we have ever spoken in depth about the characters, i have probably drawn some measure of inspiration from your fics or the things we talked about, because that's how the creative spirit works!

i think that a lot of fandom in general is also often built upon the backs of old concepts and fanon. some of that has gotten torn down over time, like... god, specifically all i can think of is dave rn. like common fanon used to be that he was literally too cool for school and now it's generally accepted that actually that was a massive front and How Did Anyone Buy Into That. i think that maybe some of us have flipped a little too hard in the opposite direction and made dave like. Soft Baby-fied? but i feel that's also a very fandom thing to have happen lmao. oh to woobify your faves for fun and profit. no harm in it but i do think it's very interesting!

41. Link a fic that made you think, "Wow, I want to write like that."

you know i think the most recent experience i had like that is with your words destroyed my planet, explicitly because i want to be able to plot out and execute longfic like this person can. it's a cool fic!

42. Have you ever received a comment that particularly stood out to you for whatever reason?

i've gotten a few comments that have stuck with me! the one you sent me on discord made me CRY (in a good way no worries) but if we're talking purely public on ao3...

there was one comment interrogating the like. NATURE of david in my demonstuck series and how i explained it in the fic that was honestly SO interested and gave me a lot to think about.

also someone told me one of my fics made them jizz instantly or something like that which was SO FUNNY to me as an ace person who does not really write or read smut to be horny about it most of the time. why do i? i dont know. it's Interesting, i guess??? like yes!!! CHARACTERS!! smushing our barbie dolls together!!! YES!!! i am EMOTIONALLY TITILLATED

[lillupon]

So, I've got a very long rant/opinion here and Idk really know how to say this without coming off kinda bad but I'm gonna say it anyways. I agree with the fact that the seventeen tag has been kinda dry lately on most fanfic places, but it's really only in the smut area. It's the sane way with other groups too I feel like. All of the nice little innocent tags are boomin to this day and thats completely fine. I think the smut tag is dry tho bc lately I feel like a few social issues (like sexualizing people and disrespecting them and their identity) have crossed over into kpop and have been ?blown out of proportion? Lately there's been a rampage of people who like to say that writing smut about someone is disgusting and is dehumanizing because people want to assume that it would make the idols uncomfortable which could equate to some morality issues on how you are reducing someone only to their body without their consent and a bunch of stuff like that. It kind of pisses me off bc this is fiction. About grown adults. Clamping down on horny people who simp over hot asian men isn't going to solve the issues we face in real life. I think a shit ton is wrong with the world we currently live in, and deciding to come after something that isn't even real bothers me. Like what does that actually accomplish. But yeah, I think thats a reason why smut has been dying down. I mean, on youtube almost every video about unpopular opinions, or things they dont like about kpop will include something about shipping idols in fanfics. And then everyone in the comment section will talk about how its all fine and dandy in moderation, but once people start writing smut it's crossing the idols personal boundaries. It's something I've been seeing a lot more often and I think people who are interested in writing smut are being turned away from it bc we've gotten to a point where people are being called disgusting for having fantasies.

Hi Anon, thank you for sending in this Ask. 

I want to preface this by saying: when I write or talk about Mingyu and Wonwoo fucking on my blog, it is a fantasy. I am not speculating about what the real Mingyu and Wonwoo might be like in bed. I am imagining the versions of Mingyu and Wonwoo that I have created in my head, that exist only in my stories. None of it is real. I understand that this can be a blurry boundary for some people. But for me, the separation between fantasy and reality is well-defined. Now, on to your Ask!

You’ve hit the nail on the head with this one. You’ve also touched on many of the issues I have been struggling with myself as of late. It’s difficult to argue about morals since everyone has a different set of values, as well as different comfort levels. Some people think real person fiction (RPF) is a gross invasion of privacy. Others are fine with it. And others don’t care one way or another. There is no single answer; I can only offer my answer. Which means, of course, people are welcome to disagree with it, or parts of it. 

In this essay (LOL But forreal: this is an essay), I will be sharing my experience in the k-pop fanfic community from 2014 to present, the etiquette I personally abide by as a reader and writer of RPF, as well as my stance on RPF in general.

I started reading and posting fanfics back in 2014/2015 on a website called AsianFanfics (AFF). Obviously, no one on that site had a problem with RPF, since AFF is a platform made specifically for sharing stories about Asian celebrities. For many years, I read and enjoyed RPF with zero guilt. I scribbled away by myself in my own corner of fandom and curated my own content. I didn’t interact much with other fans, readers, or writers. I didn’t have a Twitter, and I only used tumblr to reblog memes. As a result, I’ve been able to avoid a lot of anti-shipping discourse, as well as purity and cancel culture. I had no idea there were so many negative opinions about RPF. It wasn’t until I became active on the subreddit r/Fanfiction last year that I learned about all the discourse surrounding RPF. 

This newfound ‘awareness’ does make me feel guilty at times—but only because after mulling this over, I still don’t think this is something to feel guilty about.

Here’s what I remember, first and foremost, when I create and consume RPF: fanfics and my favourite ships are fictional, and fiction is fantasy. This is basic etiquette when it comes to RPF, and most people in the k-pop fandom understand this. Delusional fans exist, of course, but they are not representative of the entire k-pop community. 

Another point of etiquette is to keep fanfics within fandom spaces. I would never push my fics into celebrities’ faces, or go around claiming that my fanfics are accurate representations of a k-idol’s life or personality, in any way, shape, or form. I would also discourage directing ship-related questions to official accounts, or bringing them up during fansigns or other face-to-face interactions; I believe that in these instances, shipping does have the potential to strain real-life relationships.

So with basic etiquette out of the way, let me share my approach to RPF in general.

As much as we like to think we know our favourite celebrities, we really don’t. All we see is their public persona. And this public persona is intentionally controlled, managed, and curated by a team of people: directors, tabloids, editors, makeup artists, publicists, etc. How “real” are these celebrities? We are so distanced from them that they may as well be fictional.

I draw from the public persona that idols project, and I work them into my own writing. But at the end of the day, these personalities are my own interpretation. My interpretation is probably nothing like an idol’s actual personality. I just use the “public persona/character” that idols portray as inspiration for my own stories, which are set in wildly different universes.

More than anything, I think of k-pop idols as “actors” in my fic. You know how when you write an original novel, you scroll through Google images, looking for the perfect person to portray your original character? RPF is literally that, except you might build upon pre-existing dynamics and personalities.

When it comes to explicit fanfiction, two main concerns are prevalent: one of consent, and one of sexualisation.

If we argue against explicit RPF due to lack of consent, we should be willing to apply the same lens to all explicit works. How do we know that the creator of a movie, book, series, etc., is okay with us using their characters in our stories, explicit or not? We don’t. Perhaps some creators encourage fanfiction, but don’t want their lovingly crafted characters engaging in sexual acts or experiencing trauma. We just don’t know. I feel this line is even more blurred when we talk about characters from movies or TV series.

Let’s take Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, as portrayed by Chris Evans and Sebastian Stan, from the Captain America movies as an example. I am willing to bet that when people consume and create explicit fanfiction about Steve and Bucky, they are imagining Chris Evans and Sebastian Stan in their heads. I doubt many people are imagining the 2D cartoon versions of Steve and Bucky, even though they’re technically the exact same characters. Why? Well, it could be because movies are more readily and easily consumed than comics, and so people are unfamiliar with comic book Steve and Bucky. But it might also be because fans find Chris Evans and Sebastian Stan attractive. Is this really any different from RPF, where fic authors make up everything about a celebrity’s life?  

When readers and writers of fanfic talk about how hot Steve Rogers or Bucky Barnes is, those comments are about Chris Evans and Sebastian Stan’s bodies. When reading explicit stories, fans are going to picture Chris and Sebastian’s bodies in their head, doing sexual things. Can we say, “Well, it’s not really you, Chris/Sebastian”, when in a way, it is?

The reality is, people are going to thirst over celebrities, regardless of whether or not explicit fanfiction exists. They’re going to post thirst tweets on Twitter. They’re going to talk to friends and strangers online about how hot [insert celebrity name here] is. They’re going to fantasize about dating and having sex with their favourite celebrity. Or, as it is in my case, they’re going to make up stories in their heads about their favourite idols dating and banging each other. People are going to do all of this without ‘getting consent’ from the celebrity. Cracking down upon and shaming writers of RPF isn’t going to change any of that.

To be honest, I’m not sure why people think it is disgusting to imagine sexual scenarios about real people. It is okay and normal to have these kinds of fantasies. I suppose the alternative is to fantasise about having sex with cartoon characters instead? It’s a very binary way of thinking to say that if you imagine/write real people in explicit scenarios, you are immediately sexualising, dehumanising, or objectifying them. There is more to dehumanisation than writing smut about our favourite celebrities. For one thing, you can love someone and appreciate all parts of them, and still want to fuck their brains out. And generally, fanfics come from a place of love—love that is not only sexual in nature.

Is it the sharing aspect inherent to fanfiction? The possibility that a celebrity might stumble upon explicit works about them? The chances are very low, I think, of the k-pop idols I enjoy writing about coming across my English fics. But I also believe in curating your own content, and that applies to celebrities too. Perhaps a celebrity should not go searching for fanfics about themselves. And of course, people should not show celebrities their fanfics, unless invited.

Another argument I hear against (explicit) RPF is, “How would you feel if someone wrote fanfiction about you?” First off, I don’t like this argument because there’s a difference between someone who decides to be a public figure versus someone who decides to remain a regular private citizen. Celebrities should and do know what they’re getting into when they choose their occupation. (This is not to say, “They are celebrities; sexualise them all you want because that’s what they signed up for.” Here, I am only acknowledging that people might have sexual fantasies about celebrities they are attracted to. Presumably, celebrities are cognizant of this.)  

If someone (whose existence I am not even aware of, mind you) decides they want to write explicit fanfiction of me in some tiny corner of the Internet, I wouldn’t care so long as: (1) they don’t shove it into my face, and (2) they don’t harass me and ask invasive questions about my personal life and relationships. It’s not hurting me or negatively affecting my life, so it wouldn’t even register as a blip on my radar. When fanfiction remains within its appropriate spaces, it is largely harmless. 

Now, if a k-pop idol were to ask their fans to stop writing fanfiction about them, would I? Yes, I would. However, I can’t imagine that happening. Judging by the number of ‘sexy’ concepts, fanservice moments, and variety shows such as ‘We Got Married’, I am certain that k-pop idols realise they are the stars of many fantasies—some of which are explicit in nature. Considering the prevalence of shipping in the k-pop industry, I would argue that shipping is subtly encouraged.

It’s sad that so many talented writers are shamed out of fandom, or feel that k-pop cannot be the medium through which they tell their stories, or explore their sexuality, or cope with trauma, or simply have fun. Professional works and Hollywood love their RPF—readers and writers of fanfics should be able to, as well. 

As you said Anon, “clamping down on horny people who simp over hot asian men isn't going to solve the issues we face in real life” (this is a lovely sentence, by the way). The kind of person who dehumanises another and reduces them to a sexual object will do so some other way, if not via fanfiction. I don’t think the issue of fetishisation can be fixed simply by telling people not to write explicit RPF. In my experience, people who read and write RPF are more respectful and thoughtful about these things than the general public. We’ve all seen the general public say highly sexual things about celebrities in the media and to their faces, or tag celebrities in their thirst tweets. Are these things less invasive than fanfiction? Personally, I don’t think so. And in my opinion, there are more pressing and damaging issues in stan culture than fanfic.

In conclusion, I don’t think there is anything wrong with creating and consuming RPF, both explicit and non-explicit so long as we:

Remember we are writing fiction

Keep RPF within its appropriate space, and

Do not harass celebrities about their personal lives and relationships

RPF is not for everyone. There may be people who enjoy RPF, but draw the line at explicit stories. This is fine. Everyone has their own personal preferences. What is not fine, however, is attacking people for creating things you don’t like. I’m not sure what kind of moral crusade people are on and what they hope to achieve by shaming writers of RPF, explicit or otherwise. Ultimately, fic authors are writing a fantasy. It’s not real; no one is being hurt. I think it’s important for people to curate their own content, and AO3 makes it very easy to filter out explicit works and unwanted tags. 

Maybe this is me trying to justify my own participation in explicit RPF—I don’t know. What I do know is that I love k-pop, and fandom is an important part of my media and entertainment experience. I adore the k-pop idols I write about, and I just want to imagine them being happy and getting lots of love and orgasms. Let a bitch be horny, goddamn… 

Some bonus fun facts!

At the time I am writing this, on AO3:

26.2% of Stray Kids fanfics are rated M or E

26.3% of Seventeen fanfics are rated M or E

29.0% of Merlin fanfics are rated M or E

34.9% of Captain America (Movies) fanfics are rated M or E

40.1% of BTS fanfics are rated M or E ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Coincidentally, I saw this post on Reddit this morning: Can we have a RPF positivity post?

[supercasey]

Twins Theory, AKA I ruin everything with my dumbass theory that makes no sense

Alright, strap in, I'mma light your asses up with my shitty fan theory that's Matpat levels of crazy/probable. I'm dubbing this theory the “Twins Theory” for reasons that will become boringly obvious as we progress.

((Huge props to @bl00dw1tch for making the Nodad Theory, which I'm gonna base a lot of this theory on. I adore that theory and it’s only reason this one exists.))

So I’ll start with just saying it outright- I have reason to believe that Skout and the (current) Nomad are twins/siblings of some sort (I’m going to go with the assumption that they’re twins throughout the theory so get ready for that). ((Putting this under a fucking readmore so I can spare the general public of my rambling))

My reasoning for this dumbass theory? Well, in episode 1 we caught a glimpse of this mystery woman:

Followed soon after with Skout appearing where the woman had been:

Now, the resemblance is absolutely uncanny, and I’ve heard plenty of theories flying around (mostly people thinking that this was an image of something the Nomad desires, aka he wants Skout to stay with him in the woods/marry him), but my favorite by far has been bl00dw1tch’s Nodad Theory, which states that the current Nomad we’re seeing in the show is NOT the original Nomad, and that he’s in fact the son of said Nomad (implying that the vision we see was a childhood memory of some kind). I feel like this makes sense (and it’s honestly preferable to a love triangle between Skout, Toth, and the Nomad. Please RT, I’m begging you, don’t start that kinda shit).

So even if we’re going with everything in the Nodad Theory, it leaves one HUGE question unanswered- why does Skout look EXACTLY like this mystery woman??? Does she just remind the Nomad of his mother? I think there’s a better- if not ludicrous- explanation for this: Skout is the Nomad’s sister/twin.

Let’s start at the beginning: long ago, as we know, El Rey began to wipe out the country/world’s entire population of magic users to feed his magic crown. Along comes a Nomad (perhaps a user of darker magics, I’ll get into my Shitty Father!Nodad rant later), who most certainly doesn’t want to get vored by a magic crown. So he flees to a remote forest, and along the way falls in love with a sweet, southern redhead. After (possibly kidnapping, I’ll get into that later) running away with her to the forest, he accidentally (or purposefully) knocks her up, and oh no, she has twins!

Twins are a handful, but they manage, and I assume it’s around the three or four years old mark that magic would start showing in either kid… but it only shows up in Nomad Jr, not Skout. Well, great. Not only does one of Nodad’s kids have magic, but the other one (seemingly) doesn’t. Now, this is where my theory splits, but I’m primarily going to go with the Shitty Dad AU for a number of reasons:

The Nomad’s Magic has, notably, been quoted to be Dark Magic. This implies that not only is there Light/Good Magic in this universe, but that the current Nomad has been taught to ONLY USE Dark Magic. Seems a bit… messed up, huh?

Why exactly is the Nomad being hunted (BESIDES the fact that El Rey wants to vore him)? Sure, El Rey obviously wants his magic, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they revealed that Nodad was a bad guy long before El Rey started fucking things up.

(FIRST Members ONLY, this bit is based on something in episode 8) Every time someone says “Hostage” in episode 8, the Nomad grabs Skout’s hand, almost like he’s doing it out if instinct. Why does he do that? Was Mystery Woman (his mom) a hostage? Was she kidnapped and forced to have Nodad’s kids? This honestly killed any chance for me that Nodad was a good guy.

Okay, back to the backstory: so Nodad’s got one out of two kids who doesn’t have magic, and as a Dark Magic user, he can’t waste his time watching some magic-less kid all day- not when he has little Nomad Jr to start training. Cue another split decision, because I could see this going one of two ways: either A, Nodad took Skout and gave her away to a passing caravan, or B, Mystery Woman ran away with Skout to escape her kidnapper and raise her only magic-less child in peace. From there, things are up in the air. I imagine during Nomad Jr’s earlier teens/early childhood, Nodad (and Mystery Woman, if it was option A) dies, leaving Nomad Jr to fend for himself.

He of course never leaves the forest- good ole’ Nodad made sure to teach him while he was young to never wander far from home (cue the big DO NOT LEAVE sign). So he stays there, with only one real magic trick up his sleeve from what Nodad was able to teach him before he died… that is, until a familiar looking redhead happens upon him. The reason they don’t recognize each other? They would’ve been separated at a VERY young age, before they could start building any real memories (but if this is the case, how would option B exist? How would Nomad Jr know what his mom looked like? Simple; From old pictures/drawings of her, and from vague memories of her voice, he could very easily build up a fake memory of her), so there’s no chance that they’ll recognize each other (and Nodad would NEVER let Nomad Jr know he has a twin sister out there- can’t risk his son running away to find her).

((Alright, that’s pretty much all I have, but I have some vaguely related rambling down below for those of you who are interested))

If they’re twins, I really like the name Hunter (or Humter if it’s spelled weird like Skout’s is) for Nomad Jr??? I love when twin’s names are alike in some way, and I feel like this name fits him really well- if you don’t agree, feel free to hit me up with alternative names for our favorite Nomad.

The Glowy Chest Thing. That’s fucking weird as shit, but I have an explanation that ties (at the very least) into the Nodad and Shitty!Nodad Theories. Ever heard the quote “Sins of the Father are the fall of the Son?” I wouldn’t put it past RT to pull something like that into the show, especially considering their history with “kids cleaning up their shitty parents messes” ((rvb I’m looking at you)). So basically, because of all the horrible things Nodad (possibly) did in the past, Nomad is now making up for those crimes with good deeds, slowly but surely making amends for his father’s mistakes ((I’ve heard theories that if he does enough good deeds he’ll regain his voice??? Kinda hope that doesn’t happen, since I want him to stay mute, but whatever)).

((Again,this next bit is for FIRST members only. Read this one if you’ve watched the new episode)) My prediction for the next episode (after episode 8): Now that Skout and the Nomad have joined up, I think that Skout is going to try and take him to her old home in order to hide. I think that this, if my theory is correct, will reveal which route was taken. Either the Nomad will unknowingly be reunited with his mother (or knowingly. Cue a tearful reunion), or he will at the very least learn that Skout was adopted by her family (perhaps that’s why she joined Toth and left home??? Did they lie to her growing up and she found out and ran away as a result???), possibly opening the door for the Twin Theory to start being revealed.

This is an insane, probably wrong, theory, but I really freaking like it. I might write a fic for it even, so stay tuned. And if I’m right… holy shit.

[sassycassie-s-writing]

Doppelgänger

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): Avengers - Peter Parker/Spider-Man & Tom Holland

Rating: PG

Original Idea:  I know I mentioned before that I don’t write for the actors, really, but I read a really good fic over on fanfiction.net about the Marvel characters coming into our world (Universal Headaches by Talk With Your Hands) so I gave it a quick try.

Notes: (Masterlist)(By Character)(About Me) Gee, what is with me and these slightly-longer-than-my-slightly-longer-than-usual fics recently? I mean, I’m not complaining, and I hope y’all aren’t either, but this is, like, the third one! Harper is not my last name so don’t look for a Cass Harper on other social media. If you find one, it’s not me.

^^^^^

WHAM!

Groaning in pain, I picked myself up off the ground where I'd landed, coughing dust out of my lungs. On all fours, I looked to my side to see curly brown hair emerging from the dust, also pushing up onto all fours. “You okay?” I asked, voice raspy from the dust and the fall and the pain.

“Yeah,” Peter replied, also raspy. He sounded a little shaken. “You?”

I glanced at the bruises that would soon form on my arms from impact. “More or less.”

“Who are you?!” a new voice exclaimed with a British accent. The voice was… familiar somehow. “And what are you doing here?!”

Peter and I glanced at each other before I turned my gaze to see the owner of the voice while Peter favored coughing.

I almost fell back to the floor in shock.

The young man looked just like Peter. Same curly-ish hair, same brown eyes, same face. The only thing different was the fashion sense. Whoever this guy was, he wore skinny jeans and a black T-shirt with a necklace that had a long silver chain and a charm I couldn’t quite see because of my angle—pretty different from Peter’s science pun T-shirts, checked button-ups over them, and normal jeans with the hems turned up since they were too long. This doppelgänger looked startled to say the least.

“Who are you?!” I retorted in surprise.

Not-Peter scrunched his eyebrows. “I'm… Tom. Tom Holland,” he answered.

I got to my feet slowly, wincing, and introduced myself, sticking my hand out. Not-Peter—Tom—shook it.

And then Peter looked up. “What the f—?!” He cut himself off as he fell backwards onto his back.

This Tom guy looked down and realized what he was seeing. He blinked a couple times. “Am I seeing things?” he demanded. “Why—why do we look the same?” He took a couple steps back, one hand behind him, feeling for the wall.

“Well why are you British?” I retorted.

The British young man in question grunted but didn’t say anything.

I helped Peter to his feet. “You just had to plug the stereo into the weird machine, didn’t you Peter?” I grumbled as I pulled him up.

“Wait,” the British Not-Peter protested. “Peter? As in Peter Parker?”

Peter and I froze before slowly looking at the doppelgänger. “How, how, how do y-you know my name?” Peter stammered, his hand lifting and finding my arm. He held onto it like an anchor—and for a moment I thought he might fall over again.

“I know your name because I'm an actor and you're a character I portray in a movie series,” Tom-Not-Peter replied. “You're not real.”

I arched my eyebrows. “Movie characters?” I asked no one in particular.

“Well…” Tom-Not-Peter trailed off. “Not you, sorry. Or, if you're going to be in the films, you haven't been cast yet.”

“These films… are they well-known?” Peter asked Tom.

“Well yes. They're something of a cultural phenomenon. There’s never really been an interconnected universe comprising of multiple different franchises that can crossover before. It was exciting but a bit of a shock to the system when I was cast. It’s a bit strange to be relatively unknown and then a household name overnight,” Tom explained. I looked—I mean, stared—between the two of them, amazed at how perfectly carbon-copied the two were of each other.

I ran my hands through my hair. “I can’t believe this is happening,” I muttered under my breath.

“You and me both,” Peter agreed.

“So… if you're actually Peter Parker,” Tom started, “I mean, y’know, Spider-Man, how did you end up… here?”

“Where exactly is ‘here’?” I wondered.

“London.”

My jaw dropped. “London?!” I clenched my jaw. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” I rounded on Peter. “This is all your fault,” I accused him. “We weren’t even supposed to be in the workshop but you wanted to work on something and listen to music at the same time so you plugged it into that weird machine. And when it started pulsing with that weird bluish light did you unplug it? No. Instead you decide we should check it out! Now look where we are! We’re in an alternate dimension where you're a movie character!”

“Actually,” Tom put in. “He was a comic book character first. And one of the most recognizable superheroes in the world.”

I sighed dramatically. “Great. Even better,” I commented, voice bleeding and dripping sarcasm. “So how are we going to get home without drawing attention to ourselves? Because I imagine he—” I pointed backward at Tom-Not-Peter, while still glaring at Peter. “—probably has hordes of fangirls who are all over his every move so what do we do about you?”

“It’s not that mad,” Tom corrected. I ignored him.

“How are we even going to find a way to get home?” I carried on.

“Whoever you are in this universe,” Peter answered, finally cutting me off. “If you haven't been cast yet, and he doesn’t know who you are, that means your actress isn’t well-known. So if we can find her, maybe she can help us. It’d be safer to be around her than him.”

“You know I can hear you, right?” Tom asked.

We both ignored him.

I shrugged. “I suppose. But if your actor is British and mine hasn’t been cast yet, or may not even exist, how will we know where to look? It’s not like we can sweep facial recognition over, like, four different countries!”

“Four?” Tom wondered. Peter grunted in agreement with the question.

“America, Britain, Canada, and Australia,” I replied. “Those seem the most likely. I'm American, born and raised, but you ain’t even though Peter is, so that makes things significantly more complicated for me.” I rubbed at something warm on my lip—dried blood. I must have split it open when I fell. I grimaced in irritation. Of course I was bleeding.

“Well it’s not like we can use facial recognition,” Peter observed sarcastically. I raised my eyebrows suggestively. “No. No. No, no, no, no, no. We are not hacking into something to use facial recognition!”

“Well how else do you suggest finding the version of me of this universe? This isn’t like the time Tony told us to literally find that needle in the haystack and we lit the hay on fire!” I exclaimed.

Tom gave me and Peter a really confused look. “You lit a haystack on fire?”

I ignored him. “C’mon, Peter, it’s not gonna be hard. We just need an internet connection to connect to a database and search facial recognition. We photograph my face and search for it,” I pressed to my friend. Peter furrowed his brows in thought and heaved a sigh, refusing to meet my eyes for several moments while he thought.

“Fine. Let’s go find somewhere with internet.”

“All due respect, strangers,” Tom interrupted loudly. “It’s past midnight. You should get some sleep first. You're welcome here tonight but in the morning I want you gone. But, y’know, carefully. Because he has my face.” He nodded at Peter.

“Okay,” I replied. “Thank you, Mr. Holland.”

“No, please. Don’t call me that. Tom is fine. Mr. Holland is way too formal.”

“Very well. Thank you, Tom. We’ll be gone in the morning.”

He gave us a single nod and retreated down a hallway.

“I’ll take the floor,” Peter muttered. “You take the couch.”

“I can—”

“No. Don’t bother.” He sat down on the ground, cleared away the dust from our landing, and wrapped up in his jacket. I eased onto the couch, wrapped my jacket around my body, and burrowed down to sleep.

^^^^^

“Wow. It’s like looking in a mirror,” I muttered, peering across the university campus at the girl who looked just like me. Peter had his head down enough that no one would notice him or look twice, wearing a ball cap with the brim pulled low. “I thought you and the Holland-guy was weird but I'm looking at a girl who’s me. Wow.” Peter grunted but didn’t say anything.

I nudged him in the arm.

“C’mon,” I whispered. “Let’s go talk to her.”

“Let me go first,” Peter replied, edging around me and trotting down the hall. I followed him. “Excuse me?” he called. “Miss Harper?”

The girl who would one day be me on screen—maybe—looked up from her laptop. “Yeah?” Her face went slack. “Oh my gosh—has anyone ever told you that you look just like Tom Holland?” she asked in an awed tone.

“Yeah. All the time. Listen, my name is Peter Parker—you might know me as a comic book or movie character, but we’re real. And we’re in the wrong universe. We need your help to get back to ours.”

My doppelgänger tilted her head. “Who’s we?” she inquired curiously.

I came out from behind Peter. “Me and him,” I answered.

Miss Harper stared. “Oh. Well. Okay.” She opened and closed her mouth a couple times like a fish before regaining her composure. “So… what do you want me to do? I'm not a scientist. I'm studying to be an actor.”

“We mostly need your lack of fame to keep us hidden from the world,” Peter put in. “The actor who plays me has become high-profile because he plays me. But if, one day, you're cast as her—” He pointed at me. “—you haven't reached that level yet. So we need your help to find a way to get us home. Any research you can give us on anything like a Dimensional Cannon—or something.”

“A Dimension Cannon? Like in Doctor Who?”

“Yeah.”

Miss Harper bit some skin off her lower lip and looked down at her laptop. “Well, I can’t think of anything off the top of my head, but I am something of a Google master. Let me look.” She glanced at her watch. “Okay. Forty-five minutes till my next class. That should be enough time.” As she typed, her eyes looked up to me. “If anyone asks, say you're my twin. No one here really knows me so it won’t be too difficult for them to believe.”

“Thank you,” I offered. She nodded and returned her focus to her screen and her keyboard.

Peter and I sat down on the chairs next to her. Peter kept his head low, muttering something about ridiculous that I didn’t quite catch. Probably thinking it was ridiculous that he had to hide his face.

I had to say I agreed, but we couldn’t afford attention.

My doppelgänger slammed her hands down on the arms of her chair. “Shoot. I can’t find anything. Sorry guys, the technology doesn’t exist in this world yet.” She looked apologetic. I pursed my lips thoughtfully.

“It’s okay. We’ll figure something out.”

“Well, after my day is over, you can come back to my apartment with me.”

“Thank you,” I repeated. She nodded. I looked over at Peter. “Hey, it’s gonna be okay.”

“I know,” he mumbled. “I'm just trying to figure out if we could make a Dimension Cannon ourselves.”

I raised my eyebrows. My double didn’t notice, she was still peering at her screen curiously. “How?” I whispered to Peter as some guys walked past in basketball jerseys, loudly joking around with each other.

He gave me a smirk. “I have an idea. You're not going to like it, but I have an idea.”

[greyskieslatenights]

seventeen: jicheol: good morning (i think i'm into you, this is dangerous)

...i am a mess

a jicheol fic inspired by their duet of good morning :,) featuring gratuitous usage of italics for flashbacks, by yours truly. happy birthday, jihoon.

in which drunken confessions make for awkward next days.

9:47 AM Choi Seungcheol: good morning

  1:36 PM Jihoon stares at the two words in the preview bubble, his head throbbing from the alcohol he’d drunk the previous night. He hasn’t gotten drunk like that in a while – he generally likes to keep a clear mind at all times, and rarely indulges in more than a couple shots of soju.

His thumb hovers over the message preview, ready to reply to his best friend’s message like he normally would, but something stops him this time.

He’s not quite sure what it is that makes him do it, but he swipes the bubble to the side instead of tapping on it, hiding the message from sight.

Staring at the bright light from his phone screen is only making his headache worse, so he puts it into sleep mode and lets it drop down to the mattress. He closes his eyes, trying to use force of will to make the headache go away (if anything, he’s probably making the problem worse).

His mouth feels like cotton and his throat feels like fire and his stomach is starting to churn unpleasantly – despite the extreme lethargy he feels throughout his entire body, he somehow manages to propel himself to his bathroom barely in time to empty the contents of his stomach into the sink. He dry-heaves for a few moments afterwards, narrow shoulders moving up and down with the force of his heavy exhalations. He hates the scent of vomit, and remembers yet another reason why he doesn’t like to drink much.

He turns on the tap, flushing the sink clean, and proceeds to brush his teeth vigorously to rid his mouth of the foul taste. After he’s done, he splashes cold water on his face to try and revive himself; when he catches a glimpse of his tired eyes in the mirror, he grimaces. He must’ve had quite a night.

The problem, though, Jihoon muses as he pads over to his tiny kitchenette and readies a package of instant microwavable rice, is that he’s still not quite sure what triggered his abnormal desire to drink, and why he feels like he’s missing something from last night.

He’s got a nagging feeling that it has something to do with Seungcheol, though, given that he was so hesitant to reply to the elder’s message. He’s never done that before.

He ponders this as he stirs his rice around with a spoon, blowing across the steaming surface before taking a bite. As he chews, his eyes wander around the kitchen, eventually landing on two soju bottles that he swears weren’t there the day before.

What happened last night?

  2:25 AM Seungcheol walks Jihoon home, Jihoon borrowing Seungcheol’s jacket as he always does after they go out late; Jihoon’s always found it a little strange – they don’t live in the same apartment complex, and they’re both men.

(They’re not dating.)

The silence is still upon them, and it makes Jihoon uneasy. He and Seungcheol have never been the types that talk nonstop, but the quiet between them has always been comfortable. He doesn’t like how this feels, not one bit, but he doesn’t know what to do about it, either.

Jihoon’s ready to punch in the access code to the front entrance and give Seungcheol a wave goodbye like he always does, but the elder reaches out and lays his palm over the keypad before he can do it.

“What’re you doing?” Jihoon asks, giving Seungcheol a vaguely dirty look. A beat later, he registers that that’s the first thing he’s said all night after they’d left the restaurant.

“Can I… do something before you go in?” Seungcheol asks, voice soft and hesitant.

This worries Jihoon. Seungcheol is never hesitant.

Jihoon nods, slightly confused; Seungcheol steps in a bit closer, far within the bubble of personal space Jihoon usually insists on maintaining. The elder slips a hand into Jihoon’s hair, giving it a soft ruffle before sliding it back to cup around the back of his head.

At this point, Jihoon would normally swat away the hand of whoever dared mess with his hair or do anything that resembled a jab at his height. He’s endured plenty of it throughout the years and generally makes it immediately known that he won’t stand for it. Seungcheol of all people should know this.

And yet, Jihoon does nothing to stop him, does nothing as Seungcheol folds him into an embrace that smells of barbecue smoke and laundry detergent; an embrace that feels warm and distinctly Seungcheol.

(Jihoon doesn’t think he’s imagining the soft press to the top of his head before Seungcheol releases his hold, but he doesn’t know how much he can trust his memory with finer details at this point.)

As if nothing ever happened, Seungcheol steps back and shoves one hand into the pocket of his jeans, holding up the other and making a small wave. “Good night, Jihoon-ah.”

Jihoon doesn’t catch himself in time to reply until Seungcheol’s already out of sight.

Seungcheol’s jacket is still wrapped around his shoulders.

  2:49 PM Jihoon supposes it’s fitting that he remembers the end of the night first – the memories start filling in as he gets up to toss the bottles in the recycling. He remembers Seungcheol walking him back to the apartment, which he’d always found kind of weird but never bothered to argue harder against, and remembers his confusion about Seungcheol wanting to do something different before departing.

It’s strange, though. While Seungcheol hugging him goodbye is certainly out of the ordinary, it’s nothing worth downing two bottles of soju for.

Clearly, there’s still something Jihoon’s missing.

He’s got a better idea now that he knows it has something to do with Seungcheol, but that could be a lot of things. If he’s not spending his free time alone, he’s most likely spending it with Seungcheol. And while the two of them do get along most of the time, it’s not completely uncommon for them to have some sort of argument.

Jihoon’s got a feeling that an argument wasn’t what triggered his sudden need to drink to forget, though; if that were really what happened, the first message he received from Seungcheol probably would have been some sort of apology, not just good morning.

If Jihoon’s really going to get into this, sending good morning isn’t something Seungcheol usually does. If he sends Jihoon something in the morning, it’s usually some sort of cute animal picture or weird meme, not a formal greeting.

Something else happened last night, and Jihoon still doesn’t know what.

He returns to his bed, flopping back down on top of the blankets with a loud exhale. He doesn’t like not knowing things, especially when it comes to Seungcheol. This isn’t like them at all.

Mentally, he tries to go back to the earliest relevant point in the night that he remembers. He and Seungcheol were hanging out in his studio (more accurately, Jihoon was trying to finish up the arrangement for one of his tracks and Seungcheol was alternating between offering helpful suggestions, browsing on his phone, and trying to pester the younger. But details, really.)

Sometime around midnight, Seungcheol had successfully talked Jihoon into shutting down for the night and going out to get something to eat; as per informal tradition, they made the quick walk to a barbecue restaurant close to the studio. They’d been seated quickly, barely needing to give their order since they end up there every other week and nearly all the workers recognized them by now.

The charcoal grill had been fired up and a plate of samgyupsal placed next to them, along with lettuce, pickled radish, and ssamjang. Seungcheol took the tongs, laying out the strips of pork belly on the grill while Jihoon poured them a shot of soju each.

“To us,” Seungcheol had joked, raising his glass. Jihoon had rolled his eyes, but clinked his glass to Seungcheol’s all the same.

That’s all normal.

Jihoon thinks harder, trying to remember what happened after that, but draws a blank.

With an exasperated sigh, he starts to roll over, but stops short when he feels something hard and pokey and decidedly not his blanket digging into his back. He sits up and feels around for the source of the offending feeling; it doesn’t take long for him to notice a mass of red fabric amidst his blue sheets.

He yanks it up, shaking it out to see what it is – it’s a hoodie, and despite Jihoon’s penchant for wearing oversized clothes, he knows that this isn’t his.

It’s Seungcheol’s.

This, again, isn’t out of the ordinary in and of itself. Jihoon has a bad habit of not dressing warmly enough at night, and Seungcheol tends to overheat; this combination leads to Seungcheol forcing Jihoon into wearing his jackets when they go out more often than not.

What’s unusual is that the hoodie is actually in Jihoon’s possession – he’s usually quite good about giving them back to Seungcheol before he goes back to his apartment.

He remembers Seungcheol hugging him before he left to go back to his own place, but Jihoon can’t imagine being that startled from a hug to forget giving the elder back his jacket.

There had to have been something else that happened that night, but what?

  2:07 AM “Hey, Ji-hoon,” Seungcheol says, slurring over his words a bit, “I have something I want to tell you.”

“What’s stopping you, then?” Jihoon asks, taking a sip of his cola before reaching for the last piece of samgyupsal off the grill. If he were eating with anyone else, he’d have asked the other person if they wanted it first, but Seungcheol’s always deferred the last piece of anything to Jihoon, so he’s stopped asking.

“It’s really important.” Seungcheol looks quite serious when he says this, and Jihoon can tell that despite the amount of alcohol he’s consumed, he really does seem to mean what he’s about to say.

Jihoon raises an eyebrow. “Go on, then. You’re acting kind of weird, Cheol-hyung.”

Seungcheol closes his eyes, takes a breath. “Jihoon, I love you.”

“You—what, now?” Jihoon sputters. He can feel his face heating up, and he’s pretty sure his ears are bright red at this point. Scratch what he said before – Seungcheol is most definitely drunk and out of his mind.

“I love you,” Seungcheol says again. “I have for a while, I think. I don’t know when it started, and I don’t really know why, either, but it’s a feeling I’ve been having. I kept wanting to say something, but I was never able to get the words out until now.”

The elder lets out a soft chuckle and follows it up with another shot. “You probably think I’m drunk and crazy—”

“Hyung, you are drunk and crazy—”

“—but I needed to say something, sometime, and I felt like I could only say it after I drank enough that my brain wouldn’t quite stop me.”

Seungcheol smiles softly, his cheeks red (from alcohol or embarrassment, Jihoon doesn’t know.) “I mean, I guess that’s it. You can forget I ever said any of this, if you want. If it were up to me, though, I’d prefer it if you didn’t.”

A silence falls over the table. Jihoon doesn’t know what to say, too shocked by the sudden confession.

(If Jihoon really thinks about it, though, the confession wasn’t sudden – if anything, it was overdue.)

  5:17 PM Things finally fit into place – he remembers the confession, the numb shock he’d been in for hours afterwards, the confusion that led him to dig out the soju that he keeps at the back of the fridge for emergencies and drink.

(Jihoon’s struck with a bit of an urge to drink again – he’s mortified.)

It all makes sense, though: the awkwardness between them after the confession, the overly-formal morning text. It all points to a shift in their relationship that neither of them quite yet know how to define.

All this time he’s spent with Seungcheol as…

…what were they, really?

Jihoon’s thought about this a few times before, but never too seriously. There was nothing that really described the elder’s place in his life: best friend seemed somehow inadequate, lovers was completely off base, and there was no other term Jihoon could think of that made sense.

Seungcheol was, is, (and Jihoon had thought he always would be) Seungcheol; Jihoon had always thought that things would be the same for the elder, too.

Now, though, he realizes that he was wrong. Seungcheol wanted Jihoon to be something else to him, and wanted to be something else to Jihoon.

Jihoon’s simultaneously more and less confused the more he thinks about this. He’s definitely not opposed to bringing something different into the relationship he and Seungcheol have. The way he thinks about it, there won’t really be much that changes – Seungcheol will still be his closest person.

But somehow, Jihoon feels like everything’s going to change. He’s put up so many barriers around himself, many for no real reason other than that he likes to feel protected, that he almost doesn’t know how to let someone in that deeply.

(The irony of it all, though, is that Seungcheol’s already seen almost all of Jihoon that there is to see, know almost all that there is to know, and what little left that he doesn’t Jihoon knows that he’ll accept with the same open heart that Seungcheol always has when it comes to him.)

Does Jihoon love Seungcheol?

When faced with the question directly, it seems almost preposterous.

Jihoon’s knee-jerk instinct is to say no, of course not – he and Seungcheol are just friends, after all.

Yet if Jihoon takes the time to pause, mull over the question before responding, he finds that the answer isn’t quite so simple after all.

Out of all the people he knows, he probably likes Seungcheol the best. He’s willing to do things for Seungcheol without a second thought that he’d refuse to do for others in the same breath. He knows Seungcheol almost as well as the man knows himself, and even though Jihoon would like to think otherwise, he knows that the reverse is also true. Being with Seungcheol in any capacity feels right – it feels like home, if home were a person that has no familiar relation to him.

If there’s anyone that Jihoon can see himself being in love with, it’s probably Seungcheol.

And yet the question remains: does Jihoon love Seungcheol?

  5:50 PM The sun’s just started to set across the horizon – the warm light filtering through the clouds turns the sky a thousand colors of pink and blue and gold. Jihoon looks out the window; he wonders if Seungcheol is, too.

He picks up his phone from the table and unlocks it, tapping on his messaging app.

  5:53 PM Lee Jihoon: I guess it isn’t good morning anymore, but hi, hyung Lee Jihoon: sorry this is so late, I was thinking a lot

 don’t you love a good shitty open ending :,,,,,)