#or only using a small sample size of my fics

[autisticlenaluthor]

i broke it down even more because i’m autistic and love numbers

and i’m abbreviating “autistic lena luthor” to ALL for the sake of this post

18/35 of the ALL fics are *multi-chapter -> of these 18 fics, i’ve written 10. that makes me responsible for 55% of the multi chapter ALL fics on ao3

the remaining 17 of these are oneshots. i’ve written 3 of these -> which is 8.5% of the 35 & 17.6% of the 17

now for some other stats:

62% of ALL fics include the “hurt/comfort” tag

54% of fics that include both the “ALL” and “hurt/comfort” tags are mine

the first ever ALL fic was posted on august 15, 2017.

the most recently updated fic in the ALL tag was by me, on january 2, 2025

the most recently posted new ALL fic was posted december 19, 2024

22% of the total ALL fics have a taylor swift lyric for a title

*by multi chapter, i’m including fics with only 1 chapter uploaded- as long as they’re WIPS labeled as being more than one chapter total

i did the math and i have written 37% of the fics tagged “autistic lena luthor” on ao3.

anyways if you’re autistic and like lena luthor, you should check out ao3 user scrappylittlegleek (me)

[layla4567]

If Only

Summary: You own a small esoteric shop where you sell incense, energy crystals, etc. But no one knows that you also practice alchemy and enjoy experimenting with potions. One day, a small mistake will turn your life and someone else's upside down.

Warnings: Love potion, Idiots in love(?, Fluff and corny, Inaccurate information about alchemy or tarot, English isn't my first language, No proofread, Love confession, Fem reader, Y/n use, Thunderbolts spoilers (it's been a month but just in case), The group protecting Bob, Long plot/fic

Wc: 7k (so sorry! 😭)

A/n: Yep, this is inspired by the Descendants song "If Only" (and a little bit by the movie itself). I don't know why I'm mentioning this, I think it's pretty obvious lol

Dividers credit: @rookthornesartistry and @sister-lucifer

You sat comfortably behind the mahogany counter, waiting for new customers, tapping your fingers to the rhythm of an imaginary song. Your small shop was warm and comforting, the walls made of dark wood to absorb heat and repel annoying noises. Potted thistles and pothos hung in the entrance, and every time someone opened the door, the melodic tinkling of an angel caller could be heard.

The walls were decorated with pictures of motivational quotes and dreamcatchers of all colors and sizes. Several shelves were filled with quartz, amethyst, and other crystals, as well as some Buddhas. On the floor, a large burgundy Persian rug with intricate gold and turquoise details. Anyone would have thought they were in a witch's cave. You laughed at that thought. But in truth, maybe they were right. Could alchemy be considered magic, or was it just science? You'd heard of many alchemist witches, more in stories than in real life.

If that was the case, you were more than happy to be a witch—a good one, that is. One who found gratification in helping others and experimenting with glittery liquids and powders, just for fun. That's what you were doing when the metallic sound of the angel caller caught your attention. You straightened up and looked at the door. A man with wavy brown hair wearing a blue sweatshirt and camel-colored corduroy pants walked through.

He first looked around in admiration, as if he were in an aquarium. That reaction was very common; every customer did the same thing, and you liked it. Then he settled his gaze on you, noticing your presence. He approached hesitantly, his hands in his pockets. He seemed shy, but he smiled politely and in a friendly way.

"Hello! Welcome to the house of the lady in red. What can I do for you?" you said kindly with your best smile

The man looked at you confused and before he could say anything, you sensed his question "The lady in red is a character in alchemy and has to do with tarot too" you clarified and winked at him knowingly

He let out an exclamation of understanding as he nodded several times, still smiling, then looked down at the counter, searching for something. "Well, I was looking for incense, if you have any..."

"Of course! They're right here." You then headed to a small counter with several shelves one under the other where boxes full of incense could be seen at first glance. The brown-haired man followed you and stared, mesmerized, unable to decide.

You decided to help him. "Were you looking for something in particular? I have mint, vanilla, coconut, myrrh. Which do you prefer?"

He just shrugged, giving a low, nervous laugh. "I don't really know much about these things. I don't know, whichever smells the best?"

You smiled at his lost attitude, it was sweet "Okay, let's do this, I'll give you some samples to smell and you decide which one you like best, does that sound okay?"

The man seemed relieved and smiled gratefully at your suggestion, agreeing. You handed him the incense sticks one by one, and with each sample, he gently held them to his nose and inhaled deeply with his eyes closed, letting the scent penetrate his subconscious and enjoying the soft notes of the fragrance. Finally, a little dizzy from smelling so many incense sticks, he decided on a six-pack: two mint, two jasmine, and two orange.

"Excellent choice"

You took the scented sticks and placed them in a brown paper bag with a small card inside. You sealed the bag tightly while he watched your hands working quickly but gently. With a smile, you handed him the bag.

"Do you have a stand to put the incense sticks on?" you asked suddenly.

He was perplexed by the simple but sudden question. "Uh, to be honest, no" he replied embarrassed.

"Oh, don't worry, there's a solution for that. I also sell the stands, but since it's your first purchase, you'll get it as a gift. Consider it a courtesy."

The man with dark blue eyes smiled pleased "Thank you very much, that's very kind of you."

You waved your hand as if shooing away a fly, dismissing it as unimportant. He took his wallet out of his pants and paid. You wished him a good day, and he said goodbye as he left the store. You watched him walk past the glass window to the right until he left your field of vision. That man had left a lovely feeling in your body, similar to the warmth radiated by the energy crystals in your store, only this energy knew how to speak, and he had silkier hair and softer, bluer eyes. You sincerely hoped you'd made a good impression on him and wanted to see him more often.

Bob, for his part, walked down the street, clutching the paper bag still imbued with your scent. He felt a little dizzy, and not exactly from the effects of having smelled so many incense sticks—no, that feeling had passed. But what you had caused in him, not. Your smile and your kindness had left him stunned. He'd met many people in his life, but hardly any as polite and kind as you, especially to a stranger like him.

When he arrived at the tower by the elevator that stopped at the top floor his friends were already waiting for him there, gathered, watching a large screen that showed outer space.

"Zoom in progressively to the top left corner," Yelena ordered an artificial intelligence.

On the screen you could see a supernova but not much else.

"Okay, it seems there is no news" bucky said

At that moment Bob walked closer to them, he was so quiet that almost no one noticed his presence, it wasn't until Alexei greeted him shouting "Hey! Bob, man! What do you have there? Lunch?"

Yelena and Bucky turned to look at him and now all eyes were on him, Bob felt a little self-conscious and gulped "Uhm no, no. It's just a couple of incense sticks, I thought it would be a good idea to make the tower smell nice"

Everyone looked at him in amazement and Yelena made an indifferent face "Fine, as long as you don't choke us with the smoke"

"Oh, don't worry, I'll put one in my room to start with."

And with that, he headed to his room while the others continued with their tasks. Suddenly, Alexei became thoughtful.

"Wait, he didn't mean me, did he? I know I sometimes clog the toilet, but..."

Ava looked at him with the best disgusted face she could muster.

- - - - - - - - - - -

In his room, Bob grabbed a lighter and lit the orange incense, placing it in the holder you had given him. Immediately, the entire room was filled with a pleasant, sweet, citrusy scent. Bob closed his eyes and let the perfume fill his lungs, smiling contentedly. The smell reminded him of summer afternoons, fruit salads, and fields. He could almost taste the orange on his palate. In a good mood, he began to take out the other incense sticks to organize and store them when his fingers touched something at the bottom of the paper bag. When he took it out, he realized it was the card you had put inside. It read the name of your store, adorned with drawings of laurels entangled with roses, and underneath, a dedication.

《Thank you for shopping at "The House of the Lady in Red" Please come back soon, I love having you here!》

XOXO

Bob read and reread the card several times. He told himself that the card and those words on it were simply a form of good manners and part of your work ethic, and that you gave them to each of your clients. But for some reason, they felt personal to him, as if you had dedicated them specifically to him and no one else.

The blue-eyed brown-haired man took this as an invitation to return to your shop with the excuse of buying more incense or something else. Although he would soon run out of excuses, he didn't care; as long as he saw you again, he would invent anything.

The days passed, and Bob always excused himself from the tower to go buy more incense (even though he still had plenty). The group complained every time he went out.

"You ran out so fast? You just bought a dozen two days ago!" John yelled

"Yeah, and the smoke's starting to make my eyes sting and I cough!" Said Ava

"And I think I developed a mild allergy to the smell of roses" Bucky sneezed.

Each teammate said something against Bob's purchases, but he ignored them and headed out to your shop. You were already sorting through some crystals and replacing pendulums, secretly longing to see that handsome man from the other day again. So far, only an old woman with a noisy poodle and some curious teenagers had appeared through that door, but there was no sign of the brown-haired man.

Suddenly, out of your peripheral vision, you saw him approaching through the window, his eyes on his shoes. In your impatience, you almost dropped a tiger's eye crystal, which you caught before it hit the floor. As he entered, this time, his gaze fell directly on you, and his smile widened. You immediately felt your heart flutter, unable to stop it.

"Good morning, how nice to have you back here" you said without thinking

Her face flinched slightly with a pink blush and you realized that what you said might have sounded too kind, you bit your tongue and quickly added "What are you going to buy today?" you said still smiling

"Incense, again" he laughed.

Oh, what a sweet laugh! It could have made a baby smile. You nodded and headed to the sideboard, and he followed you like last time, even though it wasn't necessary since he already knew where things were. Lately, he discovered he loved being around you.

"Can I recommend a new one today?" you asked politely.

He nodded vigorously. "Yes, please."

You returned to the counter and pulled a large box of new incense out of a drawer. You thrust three into his hand. "These just arrived today; they're lemon, sandalwood, and linden. The last two are very good for clearing bad energies."

You waited patiently for him to finish smelling them and then with a shy smile on the side, he replied, "Then I'll take those, I trust you."

You smiled, pleased with his confidence in you. You put everything back in the same brown paper bag as before, and when you placed the card inside, he pointed at it. "I really like the card.."

"Really? Thanks! It's handmade!" you said with enthusiasm and joy since no one had noticed until now.

"Oh then you have very nice handwriting" he said slowly

You blushed slightly, looking down and smiling as you shrugged and thanked him. Bob thought it was cute that he was able to make you blush for the first time and how your cheeks looked like apples. You said goodbye, and both of you spent the afternoon thinking about each other.

The days passed, and his visits became more frequent, so much so that you already knew what he was going to buy and always asked, "The same as always?" Although sometimes you recommended buying something else, not because you wanted to get more money from him, but because you both realized that the excuse of visiting you to buy more incense no longer held water.

Even those in the tower were starting to get suspicious. It was unusual for Bob to go out so much, since he'd often made it clear he preferred to stay inside. So that only meant one thing: he'd met someone.

"Who is it? Come on tell me!, who is it?"

Suddenly, Bob's private life became a topic of conversation in the tower, and every time they asked him about it, he covered his ears in shock and went to his room, huffing and puffing in irritation. Bob didn't want to talk to them about you; he'd only earn the others' ridicule, and even if it wasn't with bad intentions, he knew they wouldn't leave him alone for a few weeks. When he lay down on his bed, exhausted, the memory of when he dared to ask you your name crossed his mind. He felt it like a great achievement, a step forward.

He fiddled with his fingers more nervously than usual as he watched you put a deck of tarot cards in your bag. Bob didn't know what to buy anymore to keep seeing you, so he had the stupid idea of ​​​​hesitantly choosing a deck of tarot cards. What did he need them for? He had no idea how to use them, he had been a fool. But you patiently and lovingly taught him everything he needed to know.

"They're a form of divination; you simply shuffle the deck, ask a question, and pick a card. Depending on what comes up, you'll interpret it based on your question. The deck comes with instructions, though."

He nodded, trying to pay attention to your explanation, but you noticed his gaze was lost. When he was about to leave he swallowed and scratched his forehead, closing his eyes. "Hey, sorry to ask, but what's your name?"

You definitely weren't expecting that question but it didn't surprise you "Y/n, and yours?"

"Bob, I mean Robert, but you can call me Bob!"

You smiled "Alright, see you Bob"

Bob thought that day that your name was as beautiful as your person and that it suited you perfectly. Meanwhile, you were in the back of your shop, which served as an alchemy workshop. On the large table were funnels, thin, elongated flasks, and a small black cauldron where a fuchsia liquid was boiling. Fat bubbles slowly and thickly broke on the surface. You stood up, taking a grimoire-like recipe book from your library. There you had written down a bunch of potions you had successfully experimented with, along with their respective ingredients.

Potions to cure the flu, potions that make you always tell the truth, etc. Everything was written down there. But today you decided to create something new. You still didn't know what it would be or what it would be for, but it was all trial and error. You took a pair of tweezers and grabbed crushed bay leaves from a jar and added them to the cauldron. You did the same with four drops of seawater, a spoonful of honey, and other ingredients. But every now and then your mind wandered to memories of Bob's visits to your shop, or his face floated into your consciousness. Distracted by these thoughts, you accidentally spilled a small bottle of rosewater. You gasped and uttered a small curse under your breath. Well, you were experimenting anyway; you just hoped it wouldn't upset the mixture too much. Suddenly, the liquid began to change color, from pink to fiery red and then to a bluish violet. It looked like a kaleidoscope of colors. You leaned closer to take a closer look, and when you did, a small explosion erupted from inside, filling everything with white, glittery smoke. How strange.

Now the air had a woody smell, a mixture of musk and honey. You hoped you wouldn't have an allergic reaction or any symptoms from inhaling that smoke. You added the new potion to a small, square bottle with an eyedropper and examined it closely. It was a bright violet, and when you shook it, golden and pink sparkles swirled around slowly and ethereally, resembling a galaxy.

"Okay, now have to test it."

You put a cork in the bottle's cap and slipped it into your jacket pocket. You didn't label it because you didn't yet know what it would be used for; you were thinking about who to use the potion for. You couldn't drink it because if it caused any untoward side effects, you might not be able to remedy them immediately. For example, if your hands developed blisters, you wouldn't be able to handle the most delicate alchemical objects. And if you developed three tails? How would you serve customers like that? No, it's better not to even think about it.

What if... maybe? No, no, too risky, you'd never forgive yourself for it. But... you had to try it on someone, and who better than Bob? Of course you couldn't tell him, you'd have to make up any excuse, anyway the effects were never that serious, nothing you couldn't solve.

So the next day it was no surprise when you saw Bob with his big smile and his eyes fixed on you when he passed through that door, you were already expecting him.

"Hi!" He said timidly

"Hi" you replied smiling

"I think you know what I'm buying today," he laughed softly.

You laughed, but you felt nervous. You had the little bottle of potion in your pocket, and your fingers nervously brushed the cold packaging. You bit your lip, considering what you were going to say.

"Listen uh, I was thinking about selling new products in the store, and I've been experimenting with concoctions. Nothing too complicated..."

You noticed Bob looking at you confused so you hurried to take the bottle out of your pocket "Look, it's for drinking, it's like a detox, it's good for the kidneys" you lied a little blushing

He took the little bottle and examined it carefully. "What a beautiful color!" he exclaimed, dazzled, seeing the small galaxy inside the liquid.

"It's edible food coloring and glitter." You felt bad lying so blatantly, especially to someone as good as Bob, but in this case the truth would be worse.

He was about to put it away to drink later when you stopped him a little abruptly. "Would you mind drinking it now? It's a new product and I want to know what it tastes like since I haven't been able to drink it myself yet."

"Sure" he shrugged

He uncapped the bottle and drank it in one gulp. At first, he wrinkled his nose and pursed his lips slightly. "It's a little sour."

You wanted the earth to swallow you up as you grimaced at his annoyed expression, but then his features softened and a small, sideways smile formed on his mouth until it widened. "Oh now it's sweet, very sweet! And I feel a tickle behind the roof of my mouth," he giggled.

You sighed in relief and smiled. Bob wanted to give you back the bottle, but you insisted he keep it and also assured him that you didn't need to pay him anything.

"And Bob.. you no longer need to keep coming to buy incense, you can simply visit me whenever you want for no reason or just to talk to me about your day" you said with surprising affection and gentleness

The brown-haired man looked at you in astonishment but then his eyes softened.

"Besides, I dare say you have a room full of them." You laughed

He imitated you, "Good thing you said that, my friends were already starting to hate me."

Laughter filled the place and then Bob (this time without buying anything) said goodbye to you. He was walking calmly through the streets when, unintentionally, the image of your face stuck in his mind. It was nothing new, but the closer he got to the Watchtower, the harder it was to stop thinking about you. His thoughts were more intense than usual; he began to remember small details, like the way your eyes shone when the sun hit them, how the corner of your lips slowly curved upwards in a smile, the way your fingers moved, sliding on the surface of the counter, and your nails scratching the wood.

When Bob entered the main room he looked so stunned that the others thought something bad had happened to him.

"Bob are you ok?" Bucky said a bit scared and worried

He just nodded, unable to meet anyone's gaze.

"And what happened to the incense this time?" Ava asked.

"Uhh.. they ran out of stock" and after saying this Bob fled to his room before the perplexed gaze of everyone

The brown-haired man abruptly closed the door behind him and leaned back against the wood, sliding slowly until he fell into a sitting position. He looked slightly agitated, as if he had run a marathon, and his face was flushed. A hellish heat rose up his neck, and his stomach felt tickly like the fluttering of hundreds of butterflies. What was wrong with him? Frightened, he put his hand to his forehead, thinking he had a fever, but no, he was fine; at least he wasn't sick. But something was wrong with him. Had he eaten something bad? He wasn't sure.

But despite those annoying symptoms, deep down, he felt a great joy every time he thought of you, as if he were capable of doing anything. Your face invaded his mind again, and suddenly he began to laugh with happiness. At first, it was a soft, airy chuckle, and little by little, it grew into a real belly laugh of joy. Bob couldn't stop, but after a minute, he stopped and became serious again. Something was definitely not right with him.

The following days were an epic journey in the tower and in the lives of everyone around Bob (including himself). He seemed more distracted than usual; whenever someone spoke to him, he would focus his gaze on a fixed point, lost in thought, paying no attention to anything else. Occasionally, in this state, he would let a shy smile appear on the side, and it wasn't until someone snapped their fingers in front of him that Bob would come out of his trance and ask what had happened. But his attention lasted only a few seconds because his gaze would once again wander off into some point on the horizon.

Sometimes he was seen wandering the halls like a zombie, with an erratic and gloomy gait. Other times he sighed so deeply it seemed as if he wanted to test whether he could blow objects away. The other members of the team believed the void wanted to come out again and that Bob was having a bad time again, but nothing could be further from the truth. Bob felt like he was on cloud nine, but he had a strange way of showing it.

"Hey man, are you alright?" Walker asked, genuinely concerned.

Bob shook his head and looked at him as if he was seeing him for the first time, not quite understanding the question "Yes, why?"

But it didn't end there. His visits to your shop became more frequent, and the blue-eyed man was becoming increasingly affectionate with you. His eye contact was prolonged, the touch of his hand against yours was more brazen, and the compliments poured from his tongue like a torrent. You only thought he was beginning to feel comfortable, and in part because you let him know he could come see you as often as he wanted. But when Bob arrived back at the tower, it was a different story. He talked about you all day long, which was strange since he'd never been that talkative.

"She's very kind and has very beautiful hair, she also smells very nice. And her skin looks so soft..." he said, sighing with love.

The others couldn't help but look at him suspiciously, the only one laughing was Alexei clearly understanding what was happening

"Oh come on guys! Our Bob is clearly in love, in fact he's over heels"

"We've never seen him like this before" Bucky said, crossing his arms.

"Well to be fair we never saw him in love" Ava said

Yelena shook her head, agreeing with Bucky: something was strange with Bob. And they all agreed that from that day on, they would keep a close eye on him. And so it was. Every time they were near him, they asked him specific questions about this person, and he would start talking nonstop while Yelena wrote down all the strange symptoms in a notebook. They even noticed that Bob's body was getting slightly warm, as if he had a fever. Alexei noticed this one day when he touched Bob's arm and noticed it was hot.

"Okay, enough, I think we have enough evidence to suspect that Bob is not well," Yelena said sharply.

"Do you think so? I still think he's just yearning for this unknown person.." Walker said, shrugging

"Oh really? And how do you explain the sudden fever in his body? And how sometimes he breathes fast as if he's been running, huh?

To calm the waters and avoid an argument, Bucky raised his voice. "Even if Yelena has a point, we still need more conclusive evidence. While I also believe Bob has something, what we have isn't much."

The blonde huffed, putting her hands on her hips. She hated to admit it, but he was right. What other proof could they get? They sat there mulling over a plan for several minutes when suddenly, Yelena's eagle-eyed gaze noticed a small object on the ground.

"Wait, what is that?" she said pointing at something

The Russian woman trotted behind the sofa and picked something up from the floor. As she held it up for a closer look, everyone noticed it was a glass jar with a cork, no bigger than the palm of her hand and slightly square in shape. She joined the others to look at the object more closely. They all inspected it critically. She uncorked the jar, and even though it was empty, a strong smell of various spices filled everyone's nose. It was so strong that everyone closed their eyes and wrinkled their noses.

"Geez, it smells as strong as Bob's damn incense sticks" Bucky said, covering his already tickly nose.

Click. Now Yelena understood. Bob had started acting strange after returning from the store that time, and that time without buying anything. She shared her theory, and everyone agreed.

"This was the proof we were missing, we have to analyze the bottle" Ava said.

Upon reaching the room, they placed the corked vial into a small, round machine and closed the lid. There were still a few drops of contents inside, which needles began to suck out, while data and files began to load on a screen nearby. The ingredients were displayed before them: honey, rose water, etc. Nothing out of the ordinary. But when they finished loading the data and the machine described the liquid, everyone gasped.

《LOVE POTION》

The only one who laughed amusedly was Alexei, again. "I knew it! Someone has Bob wrapped around their finger. Ha ha!"

Everyone looked at him angrily and he shrugged. Yelena rolled her eyes.

"Can you be serious for once? This is bad, dad."

"Why? Isn't it good that Bob found love? he asked, genuinely confused.

"But not like this! Love can't be forced, Alexei..." Bucky said

"What we have to do now is locate that person and settle a couple of scores" John said threateningly.

They started searching the internet for all the esoteric shops in the area, which in fact weren't many. Two of them had closed permanently, leaving only one left, a couple of blocks away from the building. They all got into Yelena's father's limo and headed there. They were trying to discuss a logical plan.

"We can't all rush in like the army, okay? We'll just scare her off"

"I wouldn't mind doing it, she messed with Bob, now she'll mess with us."

"Maybe she didn't mean any harm!"

Discussion follows discussion, they arrived at the store. It had a sign that said open. The facade was pretty, a large red and white striped awning covered the entrance where various vines and creepers hung.

"It looks like a grandmother's house," Ava said with disgust.

Yelena turned to see her group. "Alright, I'll go in first, okay? And if things get ugly, I'll signal you from inside to come in."

"Wait, wait, why do you have to come in?" Walker complained.

"Uh maybe because I'm the leader, duh?"

"Oh yeah? And who decided that?" Ava confronted her.

"It was literally Valentina, come on Ava don't start now.."

And before anyone else could say anything, Yelena quickly entered the store, leaving the others to grumble. Upon entering, the blonde expected to see someone standing there with a shy or unfriendly expression, but she was surprised to see your sweet face crowned with a friendly smile. The blonde began to doubt whether it was you who had really put Bob under that spell. She approached the counter slowly, looking around with feigned curiosity.

"Good morning and welcome to the house of the lady in red, how can I help you today?"

Yelena thought your kindness was over-rehearsed and felt a little nauseous at how polite you were. She was about to open her mouth, but suddenly the door swung open violently, and John, Bucky, Alexei, and Ava burst into the store, arguing, of course.

"I told you we had to wait for her signal!!"

"I don't give a fuck, I wasn't going to wait out there for two hours!"

Yelena closed her eyes and sighed "сукины дети" (motherfuckers)

You jumped slightly, feeling uncomfortable with so many eyes on you. The shortest of the group turned to the others and raised her hand in a signal to stop, then turned to you. "Listen, we're looking for the owner of this. Do you have any ideas?" she said, taking out the empty vial.

Your smile faded as you stared at the bottle, your face paled, and your features turned deadly serious. Had something bad happened to Bob? You prayed it hadn't. Everyone was waiting for your answer, analyzing your movements. You swallowed nervously. "N-no, I don't know who it belongs to, why?"

You wanted to sound confident, but your nerves betrayed you, and your voice came out choked and shaky. The group looked at each other, and you felt nauseous; you felt like a prisoner about to be shot.

"You're not good at lying, you know? It'll be better for everyone if you tell us the truth." said the man with the metal arm

You paused for a moment, staring at him, and then you realized. You looked at each of them. They were the New Avengers! Of course, how could you have missed it before? But wait, Bob's friends were the New Avengers!? Okay, now you were in serious trouble.

"Wait I know you.. yo are the New Avengers!"

"Don't try to change the subject, tell us where you got this and what you did with Bob or else-!"

"Walker!"

The US agent's words were interrupted by Bucky's bark, which he reluctantly restrained himself from. You looked at everyone in fear; you definitely didn't like that John Walker. Yelenante looked at you, trying to calm things down. "Just tell us everything you know. We promise there won't be any consequences for you. We just want to help Bob."

"Is-is he alright?" You asked worried

"Not really, he's always sighing and talking about you, he says he feels like he's on cloud nine when you look at him," said the brown-haired girl known as Ghost.

Yelena continued. "We analyzed the sample from the bottle and concluded it's a love potion." Her words hit you like a bucket of cold water. What had you done?

The pieces of the puzzle were starting to fall into place, which was why Bob was more affectionate than usual. You covered your mouth, completely horrified. Yelena asked, "Do you have any experience with magic or potions?"

You nodded slowly "Yeah... well I don't consider myself a witch.. I just like working with alchemy, you know, mixing chemicals and stuff" Then as if you had hit the wall of reality you covered your face and said anguished "Oh my God I'm so sorry!! I swear I didn't mean for any of this to happen! I didn't mean to cause any trouble and especially not for Bob!!"

"I don't believe her" John whispered, earning an elbow from Ava.

Alexei took pity on you. "Hey kid, it's okay! Just help us solve this."

"I promise to investigate and do everything possible to reverse this" you nodded vigorously

Everyone was satisfied and left through the door, except for Yelena who placed a hand on yours and said in a low voice "Hey, I really think you're a good person, and Bob thinks so too, please don't lose him."

When she left, you pondered her words. Were you really important to Bob? But it was only because of that stupid potion, right? When it was time to close your shop, you ran to your workshop and desperately searched your entire library for books on love potions, but you found nothing. You had to turn to the internet and an alchemy and witches forum. You searched: love potions, symptoms, and cure. To your horror, you discovered that the ingredients were the same ones you'd used, and rosewater was the most important and key.

Rose water? Something clicked in your mind. Yes, you remembered that time, when you accidentally dropped that bottle because you were thinking about Bob. You quickly read the description of this ingredient.

《Since ancient times, the rose has been considered a symbol of beauty and love. Many legends and stories point to the rose as a symbol of eternal love》.

"Oh come on! Damn it!"

You quickly searched for the cure for this disaster, but as you continued reading, your mood didn't improve. The cure for a love potion was...a kiss of love, of course. A kiss of true love.

"You're fucking kidding me..."

You clutched your head in despair, regretting the day you'd ever wanted to learn alchemy. You swore under your breath, wishing you could disappear. Yeah, maybe that was for the best; you'd move far away, close your shop as if you'd never existed. But you couldn't do that. How stupid was that? It would only make things worse. You sat there, defeated, feeling the weight of the world on your body. How the hell would you explain this to Bob?

. . . . . .

Meanwhile, in the tower, the group exited the elevator, pensive. Bob was already in the lobby. "Where the hell were you? I've been waiting for you all day!"

"Settling scores with someone"

Bucky glared at John, "You don't know when to shut up, do you?"

"what did he mean?"

"Nothing, Bob. Just a last-minute mission"

Bob looked at Yelena frowning "I know when you're lying, tell me the truth"

Everyone sighed and Bucky took charge of explaining everything, Bob looked at him perplexed and a little annoyed "Have you gone crazy? You went to harass someone just because of that?!"

"Didn't you hear what we said? She put a spell on you! Besides, it wasn't harassment.."

Bob raised his hands to the heavens, gathering patience so as not to lose his temper. "I'm a grown man now, I don't need to be babysat! And I didn't need you to butt into my business!"

"Hey, we just wanted to make sure you were okay. We're worried about you."

"Well, you see. I'm perfectly fine."

Bob stormed off to his room, slamming the door shut, leaving his friends alone in the living room in an awkward silence. Inside, Bob threw himself onto his bed, grumbling. Love potion, ha! Yeah, right. He didn't want to even imagine such nonsense; he didn't believe you were capable of doing something like that to him. But doubts began to creep in. What if they were right? What if all those symptoms and ailments really weren't due to an illness, but to your potion? Just thinking about it made Bob feel betrayed and hurt. But he knew perfectly well that you didn't have any bad intentions, and even though his friends had made it clear to him, he'd already sensed it beforehand.

The next day, Bob wanted to clear up that stupid matter once and for all. With a confidence he'd never seen before, he walked into your store. He tried to remain firm and imperturbable, but as soon as he saw you, it was as if his body had dissolved into jelly. His serious expression softened, and his tense body relaxed with a sigh. Despite your smile (this time sadder than usual), he noticed your nervousness. Bob approached you hesitantly. The two of you stood there staring at each other, looking like shy, hormonal teenagers about to confess.

"Uh hello again..." you said awkwardly, avoiding his eyes.

He didn't quite understand why, and suspicions began to swirl inside him. Before he could speak, she blurted out, "I think I know why you're here, and I'm glad you do because I have something to tell you..."

He just looked at her, listening intently with his heart in his hand. "Remember that bottle I gave you a few weeks ago, that was supposedly a detox? Well... I lied." You bit your lip, embarrassed. "You see, I like experimenting with potions. I think you've noticed that my shop is heavily related to alchemy. I was creating a potion recently, but at first, I didn't know what it was for! It was when I gave it to you to try, and well, you know the rest... I'm sorry, it was a love potion. But I swear I didn't know that until yesterday!"

Your face was red with embarrassment and Bob noticed the regret in your voice. Despite all of that, he couldn't get mad at you. On the contrary, he still thought your blushing face was cute. "They visited you yesterday, didn't they?" he simply asked, referring to the New Avengers.

You nodded slowly "But that's not the worst of it... I've checked the cure for this potion, luckily there is one but..." you stopped, you didn't want to tell him

"But..?" He invited you to continue, moving a little closer to the counter, resting his hands on the wood.

"It's just... ugh. The cure is... a kiss of love," you said in such a low voice that you thought he hadn't heard you, but he did.

And now he looked at you, perplexed, now he was the one blushing. You covered your eyes and quickly said, "This is crazy, I know, right? I'm sorry, I know this is awkward. I promise to find another solution!"

He shook his head a few times and touched your arm. You flinched. "No, no, it's okay." Bob cleared his throat nervously. "I mean, if there's no other option... it's not a problem."

Now Bob didn't dare look at you because if he did, he'd start sweating and his blushing would increase. You pushed away from the counter and stood in front of him, noticing he was taller than you. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

He nodded vigorously and dared to look at you, his eyes glassy. Your lower lip trembled slightly, and you stared at your hands, unsure of what to do. "C-could you close your eyes... please?"

He did so and took a deep breath. You stared at him for a few seconds. He was standing there in front of you, his face so far away yet so close at the same time, all it took was a movement to close the gap. You stood on your toes and placed your hands on his shoulders. He trembled slightly at your touch. Your eyes stayed fixed on his lips, hesitating. You looked back at his eyes, making sure they were closed, and slid your gaze back to his closed mouth. You squeezed your eyes shut as if you were about to be hit, and gently placed your lips on his. Bob almost opened his eyes in surprise, but he simply raised his eyebrows and held back a moan. At first, it was a light touch that you didn't intend to prolong, but the longer you remained like that, the more you realized how warm and comforting the sensation was. His soft lips parted slightly, giving you room to deepen the kiss. Their faces relaxed, as did their bodies, and Bob placed his hands on your waist, pulling you closer. Neither of them sped up their pace; it was a kiss as tender and sweet as morning dew that it wasn't intend anything else, nothing lascivious, just pure love.

You broke the magic and moved only a few inches away, your gaze on his lips. When you looked up, he was already looking into your eyes, smiling. You didn't want to part; you could stay in his arms forever.

"Well, it wasn't bad," you said, laughing shyly. "Are you feeling better?"

Bob's eyes expressed a genuine love, never seen before "I've never been better"

You looked at him, smiling a little confused. "You know, I don't think the potion had that much of an effect on me. I mean, I did feel a little different, but I think I always felt the same way about you. And it all started the moment I met you."

Your breath caught in your throat. "You mean..."

"Yes, I didn't want to admit it, but the more I denied it, the stronger it became. I think the potion only intensified what was already there."

You wanted to be pinched, but if it was a dream, you didn't want to wake up because it was too beautiful to be true. You didn't know how long you stood there staring at him in shock, saying nothing. Bob laughed softly.

"Don't worry, you don't have to say anything. I understand if it's not reciprocated, it's just that..-"

You shook your head vigorously, as if trying to get those misconceptions out of his head, and you kissed him again, interrupting him, this time more intensely. With your hands on his neck, Bob kissed you back, hugging your back, and you smiled against his lips.

From that day on you understood that there is no greater magic than true love, because it is capable of breaking invisible barriers and uniting two hearts into one.

Okay, this was really fun to write 🤭, and I'm sorry if it was really long, my hand started writing by itself. Lmao

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Wrong One 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Raymond Smith

Summary: You get caught up in the double lives of your employers.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You’re left alone. Again. That’s worse than anything. The waiting.

When the door opens again, it’s one of the henchman. You’ve sorted them in your head. The leader with the broad shoulders and blue eyes is boss man; Henchman #1 is the tallest of the trio, and Henchman #2 is irritable and seemingly oldest of them.

He has a cup in his hand and a water bottle. In the cup is a toothbrush and the butt end of a tube of toothpaste. He puts it on the only table not covered in a sheet.

“Boss says,” he goes back to the door to lock it, “you can clean out your mouth.” He turns and nears you, “also says I can take the tape off. For twenty minutes. Let you stretch your legs.”

“Nice man,” you remarks grimly.

He snorts but does his best to hide it, “miss, you needa… relieve yourself? He says that’s permitted too.”

You drop your shoulders, “yeah, I should… hate to die with a full bladder.”

The man goes around to the back of the chair and cuts the tape without confirming or denying your suggestion. As your hands are released, he comes around to undo your ankles. He stands straight and folds away his knife.

“You’re not gonna try nothin’, are ya?” He slides the knife onto his belt.

“Shouldn’t you ask that before?”

This time, he lets himself laugh.

“Right,” he agrees, “well, you go on, get those teeth brushed. Boss wasn’t impressed by the whole puke show.”

“It wasn’t on purpose,” you stand up on wobbly legs and the weight in your bladder shifts. Oh, you definitely need to go.

“He don’t got the strongest stomach himself,” the man scratches through his mask.

“Well, tell him I’m sorry, I guess,” you go to the table and swig a small mouthful of water, trying to cleanse a bit of dryness. You focus on getting the toothbrush lined with paste, the minty smell almost mouth watering.

“Sure,” the man crosses his arms as he stands in front of the door. “When you’re done, I’ll take ya to the lav.”

“Mm,” you grumble as you shove the brush in your mouth.

You brush diligently, happy to have the sour flavour out of your mouth. You swish and spit into the cup and leave the toothbrush next to it with the tube. You turn to the man, nearing him tentatively. You have no intent to try anything. You have a better chance if you just go along.

“Stop there,” he orders as you two feet away.

He turns, only slightly, to unlock the door, looking back and forth between the exit and you. He opens it up and waves you forward. His other hand goes to the holster on his belt. You raises your hands and walk forward.

“Promise, I’ll be good.”

He grabs your shoulder as he lets you pass and walks with a vice grip on you down a hallway. He stops you at the first door to your right. It’s open.

“In there.”

“Got it.”

You enter and he flips the light on behind you. Before you can say anything else, he pulls the door shut. You sigh and look around. The bathroom has been stripped down. A single hand towel on the bar and a small sample-sized bottle of soap next to the sink. The curtain’s been removed from above the tub as all that remains are the tile and paint.

You undo your jeans and sit on the toilet. Your body aches stiffly from your time bound to the rigid chair. That’s crueler than anything. Keeping you bound like that. You can’t even scratch your nose. You take the chance to get a good itch in.

You finish up and wash your hands, pausing as you notice the small guide taped to the mirror. Step-by-step with diagrams on proper hand-washing. You take your time and follow them, just to extend your brief taste of freedom. You leave the tap running to dry your hands and use the towel to shut it off as directed. Strange…

You go to the door but it opens before you can grab for the handle. On the other side, Henchman #1 has been replaced by the boss man. You look up and down the hall curiously.

“We need to talk,” he says curtly.

You look at him and nod. You don’t really have a choice. He points you back the way you came. You dutifully turn and walk ahead of him. Paranoia nips at you as you imagine him pointing a barrel at you from behind. Is this some trick?

You go back into the room; your cell. The door closes as his weight creaks in the floorboards. You look at the chair but you’re not ready to sit down. You pace before you face him. He stands plaintively by the door.

“We have Mrs. Malfort.”

“What? Er, oh–” you blink, “should you tell me that?”

“So that means,” he continues as if you hadn’t spoken, “you can’t leave.”

You frown, “right.”

“Which means I need to decide what to do with–”

“Can I just… Can I leave a message? For my sister? That’s all. Please–”

“Would you let me finish?” He shows his hand, still gloved.

You nod and swallow tightly.

“This is a one time offer. You get a choice. But you have to know before you make it, it sticks. This is a one way street, regardless which you choose.”

You fold your arms and shrug.

“So, we can end this, just as you’ve been expecting, simple, fast, one bullet,” he explains, “or…” he lets the word hang before he carries on, “you can continue your work as a maid.” He clutches his hand to a fist, “here.”

You tilt your head and bring one hand to the side of your neck.

“I have to decide now?” You ask.

He dips his head and lifts his hand. He tugs on the mask until it comes off. You see long blond hair, smoothed back beneath his glove as he raises his chin. Tufts of his beard jut out from the friction of the mask, his blue eyes twinkle and he squints. He reaches into his pocket and unfolds a pair of glasses.

“Now or never,” he declares.

[twistedminutia]

for a topic, maybe you could talk about the discrimination on earth vs. discrimination in twst? like ableism, racism/half-breeds, magiclessness, etc.

I could maybe do a topic on discrimination- I will say here that this is something I really want to tread carefully on. I don’t have an issue discussing magiclessness and maybe half-human discrimination, but I would feel a bit weird discussing ableism. I’m a physically able-bodied person, and this isn’t to say able-bodied people can’t comment on ableism, but I don’t feel comfortable turning a serious, real-world issue into a fun little chapter in my ‘let’s discuss the differences between Twisted Wonderland and Earth’ fic.

For similar reasons, I don’t feel comfortable discussing the pandemic in my fic- it’s a topic I’ve had requested before, but to me, it isn’t something that feels appropriate to bring up. I’m okay with serious topics, but I don’t feel comfortable writing in reference to recent and specific real world events, much in the same way I think it would be odd to bring up, say, the Black Lives Matter protests. I don’t know if it’s always bad to do that, but it’s at least something I don’t feel comfortable with.

In terms of magiclessness and half-humans, the main barrier to writing those is just that we don’t have a good idea of how those things are treated in canon. So far, the game hasn’t addressed what Sebek faced growing up. It’s implied there might have been discrimination, and his grandfather wasn’t happy, but nothing is ever shown for sure, and I like to keep things generally canon-compliant. In the case of beastmen/merfolk/humans having kids with each other, we’ve never even seen that happen in game. No character whose parents we’ve seen/heard about ever indicates a parent that doesn’t match them in species, excepting Lilia and Silver via adoption. This could mean that there would be discrimination against those relationships since they are, apparently, rare, but it could also mean nothing, since we’re pulling from the small sample size of ‘NRC students we know about.’ No one ever mentions there being pressure to marry your own kind as it were, so we have no idea if discrimination on that level exists.

As for magiclessness being discriminated against… is it? Trey confirms in a vignette that magicless people make up a majority of the non-fae population. Yuu might get teased or pushed aside for not having magic at NRC, but that location is an outlier. It’s literally a school that only accepts powerful mages. If Yuu got dropped in the middle of a random town somewhere, chances are they would face little to no discrimination because they would be normal. The only other indication we get of possible non-mage discrimination is Deuce stating that in his delinquent years, he used to use his magic against non-mages. Which could be discrimination, but it could also be he just used any tools he had at his disposal, magic being one of them. We’re not sure if his gang was only magic kids beating up non mages or if they were mixed and he used his magic to help out. I have a chapter going up in a bit about how mages had been an oppressed class at one point due to a lack of understanding about blot, though mages also seems to control all the major monarchies we know about, so they aren’t an oppressed class now. All this to say: we don’t know magicless people are oppressed and it’s likely they aren’t.

There might be some interspecies discrimination between beast people? From what I recall, Ruggie mentions getting shit on for being a hyena, but I can’t say for sure.

Basically, to sum it up, I don’t mind writing about discrimination in topics that are Twisted Wonderland exclusive, but I’m not going to tackle issues that are still prevalent in the real world. I just don’t think it’s appropriate for my fic.

[sensei-venus]

*-Golden Sands-* CH~1

(Idk what to tag for this, A/B/O Dynamics, Alpha!Daniel, *Beta*!Reader, Daniel and Reader are friends from New York, Did not beta read this so deal with it the next chapter will be edited)

Note:Trying to get back into writing. Haven't had much inspiration and I also feel like I'm not writing like I use to. I am going to try and focus on this fic and hopefully get some new asks that actually inspire me to come back full force again.

Sunny California is what she was promised and that's what she got. The moment her feet met the hot pavement outside Daniel’s crappy little apartment she was assykted by the hot uv rays of the sun. With squinted eyes she looked up at the old apartment building. In a way she couldn't believe that this was where Daniel and his mom had moved once they left NY. Maybe it was a bit better, but back in NY he had friends and family. Reader sighed while slamming her car door shut.

“Hey you were supposed to call when you got into town! The place is a dump right now!” the network laced voice made her head shoot up. Cupping a hand over her forehead she looked up the stairs of the apartment building, eyes meeting baby browns.

Daniel did not change a bit from the last time they had seen each other. Well maybe a little, he was a bit taller, hair just a little longer on the back, voice a tad bit deeper. But god did he still look as scrawny as ever, the rabbit teeth still sat tight in his uper jaw too. She laughs while making her way though the small gate and into the courtyard, eyes only briefly looking away from his. Be ran a hand though his hair while almost sliding down the rickety metal staircase. He grabbed one of her bags with ease.

Well that was new, Daniel back in the ray could hardly life a bike let alone a heavy bag. But that was then and this is now she supposed.

She clicked her tongue “My bad, but what can I say I got distracted while getting into town. This place is so strange compared to home. Have you seen the people walking around outside here?” Daniel just laughed at her before hauling the suitcase up the stairs. Flowing quicky behind him he pushed up the door on the far left of the second floor.

The place wasn't that messy which made rolling her eyes easy. Daniel was always the one for being sarcastic even about the smallest things.

“You can take Ma’s old room. After she moved out to go work for her new job, I kinda just made it into the guest room. I can afford the rent by myself now, crazy right?”

“Does your mom visit often?” there was a small pause while he lead her to the now-empty room. The room was plain, basic in simple words. A queen size bed took up most of the room, a basic brown dresser off to the side with a few sample pictures in the frames. Nothing special just a basic guest room. Daniel sat her bag down next to the bed. He cocked his head while looking back at her saying “Nah these days she so busy she just can't make it back here. But we have seen each other a few times since she's been gone. Its not like she never comes down here anymore.” .

Reader smiled “Thats good, I know your mom well enough that I knew she wouldn't forget to come see her baby boy all the time.” a giggle bubbled up making Daniel groan.

“Im going to hope having you come visit me isnt going to end up being something I regret.” his voice already showing how stressed he was.

The next few hours where spent sitting on the ratty old couch in the apartment talking about anything and everything. It had felt like forever since the two had see each other but in reality it was only about two years. Reader told him about how Miss Ramesh from the building over had her son Tim married off less then three months after he left. How a new playground was finally built in the old lot up the block after years of permit pulling to get it. Sadly how the old man in the apartment below them passed in his sleep last winter.

They trailed off after that with her saying “So yeah its been kinda hectic back home. But, I want to know what's been going on with you? You hardly call anymore! I was surprised when you finally asked me to come stay with you for the summer. So whats up?” the sudden look of awkwardness fell over his face.

“Well uh, its a lot...”

“Daniel…Im going to be here for the whole summer, we have time. Lay it on me, it can't be that bad.”

“Well…”

After the first twenty minutes of him telling her the whole story, starting form the first day be moved in, she really wondered if she should have asked in the first place.

A group of bullying karate teens, having said karate teens almost break his knee, winning a karate tournament, Okinawa trip that involved him almost dying in a tsunami and then a fight to the death, being groomed by a psycho karate master and harassed into another karate tournament, which he did win.

He was right when saying it was a lot to talk about.

“Daniel…wow. I don't know what to say after all that.” she was in shock after hearing all of it. When Daniel left she has as under the impression he was leaving for his own good. New York wasn't doing much for him, the idea that bewas living it up in California had lived in the back of her mind for well over two years now. Never did she think it would be like this for him.

He gave a small cough “If it wasn't for Mr Myagi I don't think I would be standing here.” it was silent between them for a moment.

“You know Reader I wanted to ask, I hope I'm not being rude or anything.”

“Hum?”

“When you came in I noticed…your still a beta I'm assuming? Your sent still hasn't changed so…”

Reader couldn't tell of she was blushing or if she was just embarrassed.

She picked at her nails “I feel as if we shouldn't overly question it. You presented way before you left and we are the same age. I think it was just a pipeline dream of ours that I was actually going to be anything other then a beta. Hell I basically have no scent even in beta standards. My parents really held on to the idea for a while, that I was going to wake up one morning with a brand new scent, you know? But it never happened. So yeah, Reader is just a beta I guess.” she let out a sad laugh.

It was hard being a beta to an alpha and omega couple. They waited years for her to present and it never happened. After she hit puberty and nothing happened they just gave up on the idea once and for all.

There was nothing wrong with being a beta, but it did sting a little knowing she was the odd one out in a genpool that basically guaranteed an alpha or omega child.

“Im sorry, I thought maybe you where just a late bloomer. Maybe after I left you would end up presenting.”

“Dont sweat it too much. I don't think I'm missing much anyway.”

Daniel grimiced shaking his head “Definitely not missing much when it comes to being a alpha. Ruts are a nightmare.” he gritted his teeth at the thought. Reader quirks a brow but doesn't add on to that. She loved her friend almost brother, she did not need to know about his ruts.

Out of nowhere he perked up “That reminds me, what do you want to do while you are here? I mean we are in the start of summer so we can do just about anything you want.”

“You're not busy?”

“No not really, I work for Mr Myagi down at the shop and do some work for my friend over at a mechanic place not to far away, but I'm free almost half the week now.” he mentioned with a grin. Good to know that cocky said of him never died she thought to herself. Taking a minute she thought about it in her head. What would be cool to check out? There was so much here to see, she couldn't put her finger on just one thing.

The look on her face must have been a clear indication of her uncertainty.

“Not to sound to tourist like but what about the beach? I know when I first got here it was the very first place I went.”

Readers eyes practically sparkled at the suggestion. The beach! Of course that would be amazing! Why not live it up on the famous golden sand of the city?

She could already feel the warm sand under her feet, sun on her skin. Oh and the nice waves of the water. Ugh she could just picture it now. She shivered in excitement.

“Sometimes I forget how good you are at picking fun shit to do.”

“You just don't give me enough credit do you.”

[lordgrimwing]

Marsupial au

[from this ask!]

The basics: everything is the same but the elves are marsupial and have pouches to carry around their babies!

Why would @nighttimepatrons and I make this au? Because it’s cute. Imagine little elflets trying to climb into their parents’ belly pouches to hide. Imagine the process of pouch-weaning an elflet who is really too big to be climbing in anymore. It’s just cute, ok?

Now, let’s talk about some elves and their pouches!

Nerdanel: Very roomy, very comfy. She’s had a lot of kids in there. Solid 8/10 (points deducted because occupants might get banged against rock she’s chiseling for her latest sculpture)

Feanor: Comfy place to curl up for a snooze but it gets a bit hot, and he will kick you out when he goes to the forge. 7/10

Maedhros: Excellent, so roomy, can easily hold two or more elflets at once, he’ll never bump against pointy table corners. 9/10 (some argue it’s too roomy)

Maglor/Celegorm/Caranthir: it’s fine, I guess, but why would you go in there when Maedhros is an option? 5/10 (at least Celegorm has good stories)

Curufin: “Leaving was the right thing to do, but I miss him sometimes. I miss all of them—who they were.” 3/10 (sample size of 1)

Ambarussar: The only things in those pouches are arrows. Unrated.

Glorfindel: A good place to hide for a few minutes or to peek out of during hikes to enjoy the view but he will evict you when he’s busy. 6/10

Erestor: Due to unfortunate childhood experiences, the only thing getting into this half-elf’s pouch is lent and yeast infections. 1/10 (Glorfindel’s trying to help)

Celeborn: He looks like the weak link during pouch-weaning, but it’s a trick. Grandpa will Not let you inside when mom says no more pouch. 7/10

Galadriel: No one’s dared to get in lately, but Celebrian reports that she was quite comfortable. 5/10 (points deducted for intimidation factor)

Celebrian: Cozy, a little tight with twins, very easy to fall asleep. 8/10

Gil-galad: Little Arwen’s claimed it as hers and only hers, so it mut be good. 7/10 (unfortunately she had to be pulled out after he fell at Sauron’s hands, which is very traumatic for an elflet)

Elrond: Much to his children’s confusion, he doesn’t have a pouch. No one in Melian’s line has one.

Marsupial clothing would be designed so that elflets have pouch access, so it isn’t an uncommon sight for little heads to suddenly poke out from between the folds of a robe, or for an elflet to start pulling at their parent’s clothes, trying to find the opening. Pants are a no-go when an elflet’s involved, there’s just no room to stretch.

Pouch hygiene is very important. A healthy pouch is a little moist and it should be regularly cleaned to prevent itchy yeast infections. Lent and dust can also cause irritation. Elrond gives Glorfindel salves to try to get Erestor to use in his crusty pouch so he doesn’t itch himself raw in his sleep.

There are some less fun parts, too, of course. Like the fact that itty bitty elflets might not be noticed if they fall out of the pouch, leaving them abandoned on the ground and too small to be alone for long. Or the way kidnappers can hold out a sack and some elflets will climb right in because it looks like a pouch. But most of this is happy! (outside of Erestor being relentlessly teased by his human playmates and Arwen being traumatized by Gil-galad’s death)

Oh, did I mention that Gil-galad, Elrond, and Celebrian are a threesome yet, because they are.

And kidnap fam totally happens. E+E like Maedhros’ pouch more than Maglor’s.

Ask me about fics that live rent-free in my head!

[bi-bats]

trick or treat <3333

TAURIA MY BELOVED!!! HAPPY HALLOWEEENNNNNN!!!!

In the spirit of the season (and giving out full size candy bars) you get a snippet from an idea that I have not talked about on Tumblr yet!! Everyone say thank you to Tauria and go read a bunch of her fics on Ao3 her stuff is so good!!

ANYWAYS this is a snippet of a DamiTim piece I've been working on in the vein of Now Kiss! It's probably going to be a oneshot with multiple little scenes, and it's an urban fantasy fic that's not a no capes!au. It's based off of this one super short tumblr post (that I cannot find ughhh) about magic in the modern era between a self-taught sorcerer and a classically trained one arguing about the ways that they do certain thins, and I saw it and was like "I have to hit that with my DamiTim beam rn" soooo more urban fantasy from Misha for you all!!

(stealing your formatting Tauria because this is too long to indent the whole snippet)

~ ✨ ~

“Why are you keeping the sample in here?” Damian asks, his voice losing just enough of its edge for Tim to answer him sincerely. 

“It combusts at room temp. That’s how the fires are catching so fast and staying lit for so long. You know, B didn’t have to send you to come get it, I could’ve just—” 

A small, glowing portal opens up at the next snap of Damian’s fingers, deep green sparks lining the image of the fridge in the Batcave on the other side.

Yeah, that. 

Tim rolls his eyes as Damian’s eyes flicker over the contents of the fridge. 

“It is unbelievable that you’ve made it this far in life without accidentally drinking your work,” Damian scoffs at the rows of bottles on the shelves.

“Hey, glass can shatter and plastic doesn’t! Besides, I’m recycling.”

“Is that what you call it?” Damian mutters as he pushes aside a gatorade bottle half full of a deep red, viscous liquid. “Which one?” 

“The caps are labelled.” 

After a few moments of watching Damian rifle through the bottles, Tim scoffs and pushes away from his desk. 

When he gets to the fridge, he slides in front of Damian — which infuriatingly, reminds him of the inch of space between the top of his own head and the tip of Damian’s chin — and grabs the Power-C Vitaminwater bottle that has a few tablespoons of an orange, oily liquid pooling in the bottom.

He slips his hand through the portal and drops it on the shelf on the other side before pulling his hand out. 

At least Damian’s spell doesn’t singe him at the fingertips the way his magic used to. 

It’s still a near thing, though.

When Tim turns back around, he almost flinches at the realization that there’s only a few inches of space between his nose and Damian’s chest. He looks up at him — ugh, who let the demon brat get so tall? — and raises an eyebrow. 

In the time it takes for Tim to let out his breath, Damian glances down at him. His eyes flash with something, pink rising to his cheeks again—

And then he’s stepping back, out of Tim’s space entirely, a scowl carving across his features as he looks around Tim’s study.

“You know—” 

Great, here we go, Tim thinks. 

“—there are cleaning spells you can employ to prevent your space from looking like this.”

“Again, Damian, just because I’m mostly self-taught doesn’t mean that I’m stupid.” 

“I was not—” Damian scowls, his voice gruff, defensive and god, here we go for real, Tim thinks.

But Damian doesn’t continue. He breathes out slowly, his voice coming out softer when he finishes his thought. 

“I apologize. I was not trying to insult your intelligence. I was merely suggesting that you may want to employ one of those spells before you trip over a stack of reference books or…” Damian kneels down to pick up a receipt off the ground. “Slip and crack your head open on something. Do you need this?” 

The urge to snatch it from Damian’s hand rises up in him, but he pushes it down.

He apologized, after all. 

“Yes.”

Damian raises an eyebrow at him before flipping the receipt over. 

“Is that… a spell?”

Tim snatches the receipt from his hand.

“Yes. Not all of us have time to copy our spells into a book—”

“Why don’t you just spell your pens?” 

Tim stops mid-step to frown at Damian, the receipt crinkling in his hand.

“Spell them how?”

Damian’s other eyebrow rises to join the first. 

“With a mirroring rune? It will copy whatever you’re writing into your grimoire as you write it.” 

Damn it. Fucking runes. There are just so many to keep track of, and Damian always seems to know them. 

“Here. Where’s your ritual knife?” Damian asks, striding past Tim to his desk, looking around for a pen. 

“I just use a batarang.” 

“You what?” 

“Yeah, anything sharp will do the trick.” 

Tim pulls one out of a drawer and passes it to Damian, letting himself snicker at the displeased look on his face. 

“You have the money. Buy a ritual knife, I am begging you,” Damian scoffs. 

“I don’t need one — don’t argue with me about it, I’m begging you. The rune, come on.” 

He watches Damian’s thick fingers curl around the pen as he carves the rune into the plastic with smooth, precise motions. He means to be following the lines of the rune, but his gaze catches on the scar on Damian’s knuckle, and before he knows it, Damian is handing the batarang back to Tim and muttering, “Grimoire?” 

“Oh, uh…” Tim moves a few piles of papers around, looking for one of the dozens of notebooks lying around this place. 

Okay, maybe Damian has a point. 

He gives up searching manually and waves his hand through the air, waiting for a notebook to soar from somewhere random in the room.

Nothing happens.

Why is nothing happening? 

Tim looks around, waves his hand again and with a little more sass, and then there’s a crashing noise as a pile of books collapses to the floor, his notebook responding to the summons and flying into his hand. 

He flips it open to a blank page and ignores the heat on his cheeks and the look Damian’s giving him as he passes it over. 

“Is it a time constraint preventing you from maintaining your space?” 

Tim scoffs, paying attention to the lines of the rune this time instead of Damian’s fingers. “Yes, Damian, it is pretty clearly just another thing I don’t have time to do.” 

“You could ask for help. I’m sure Jason would love to teach you some cleaning spells.” 

“He’s banned from my study for that exact reason. I still haven’t figured out where he put everything last time. Does the direction you draw the rune in matter?” 

“It’s a rune, Timothy. It always matters.” 

“Fucking runes,” Tim mutters, rolling his eyes. 

Damian laughs a little, and suddenly Tim realizes that this is the longest amount of time they’ve spent together when they weren’t in masks in… 

Well. Since Tim moved out, probably.

They get along fine (comparatively) these days, but it’s not like they spend time together unless it’s for a case, and they haven’t worked a case together since… last year? 

Which is probably why he’d forgotten how Damian’s laugh isn’t the same condescending noise he remembers from when he was a bratty little tween.

Or why the low, warm rumble of it catches him off guard, makes something in his stomach squeeze. 

“Here,” Damian says, jotting down the directions for the rune on the same page. “I can’t help you with organizing it in the notebook, especially since you have more than one, but—” 

“Oh, that’s not a problem. I just use summoning spells anyways.” 

There’s a silence long enough for Tim to look up at Damian’s face. 

Is his eye twitching?

[fast-burn]

ooo genuinely asking out of curiosity— what made you think there was a line for f1 rpf? In what way? I can kinda see it, I feel like there’s some very very popular kinks/tropes and then others you don’t see.

Also I’m not really into hockey rpf but I’ve kinda perused and know you guys have the most incredible fic!! I’m curious what are common tropes used in hockey rpf that you don’t see in f1? For example, I guess bc I’ve been in the f1 circle for so long I almost forget how it’s not “normal” to have sooo much omegaverse hahah

oh anon, i have many thoughts. can i interest you in a readmore?

okay so full disclosure is that hockey rpf has had people trying to doxx authors who post kinks they don't like, so it's not like it's free of problematic readers. personally i've had people write posts about how i'm a disgusting freak for some of the tropes/kinks i've written--mostly xeno/weird biology stuff. i've written some satirical stuff about it rather than let it get me down because tbh there are prudes in any audience. at this point i just don't go seeking people who write hand-wringing think-pieces about how my friends and i are the scum of the earth because really it's rooted in internalized misogyny, kinkshaming, and inferiority complexes; i simply don't have the bandwidth. but discourse like this has chased many people out of the fandom or caused them to unceremoniously delete their work. frankly, i've gotten off relatively easily.

but on the flipside--and maybe this is just time spent in the fandom?? god i've been writing hrpf since 2017--i've got a fairly loyal following who will read pretty much anything i've written. like if i wrote something completely balls-to-the-wall unexpected, it'd probably still get at least 50-150 kudos just on spec. i have a fic where the pairing is so rare that it's the ONLY one in the tag, and it still has 59 kudos.

the thing is that there's sort of a distressing trend of young people becoming more and more puritanical because of the diminishing youth space on the internet. i'm not the first to notice this or talk about it, so i won't bother with going into detail. but connected to this is the idea that fandom is rather cyclical as older fans move on (not all, but some) and new, younger fans come in. therefore, with a new cycle of fans nowadays comes a new cycle of...that. so it's pretty much all fandoms experiencing this. we've all seen the ridiculous outrage at ao3's hosting of """problematic""" content. i think this internal policing is why there's a lot more out-there kink content in original fiction on ao3 compared to fanfiction.

um okay onto hockey vs. formula 1! i need you to take this with an ENORMOUS grain of salt but based on a very very very small sample size, the more kinky the fic, the less engagement it gets. on one hand, this is sort of to be expected, since kink by its nature lies outside what is normative or standard, ergo hopefully people only read it if it's something they want to, or at least are curious about.

from what i've seen so far, i don't think f1rpf is that kinky?? to me, omegaverse is...okay, well it's kinky, but i also think it's become a kind of standard. i remember when omegaverse was new, but now i feel like it's a sort of fandom standard, at least for explicit fics. (are there g-rated omegaverse fics??? i simply filter out any search results for non-explicit fics.) my most-kudosed fic on ao3 is omegaverse, and to me that implies an acceptance of the trope to the point where it's become normalized. but i think there's a reason for that.

generally i think kink in fic is a way to explore and critique the source material in a sexy way. like for example, sports rpf in general has a lot of genderplay, either through omegaverse, or rule 63, genderswap, gendercurse, mpreg, male lactation, etc. which makes sense because generally Big Sports tend to be male-oriented, misogynistic, transphobic, and extremely segregated. and conversely, fanfiction and slash-fiction spaces, in their contemporary iteration, are largely the opposite. so hockey rpf, formula 1 rpf, football rpf, etc. will likely have a large amount of kink that engages with that concept.

but i think there's a lot more stuff to critique in formula 1 that, at least from my brief experience, has gone untouched. and maybe i'm just missing it because it was in the early 2000s or the 1990s? bear with me...

car-fucking/car sex: this is maybe my number one concern. why aren't they having sex in/on/around the cars? or WITH the cars? during a race? post-race? as a warm-up/cool-down? as a way to connect to the car/build the car? (see: carva universe) not just their race cars but also their stables of road cars. hello?? and nobody reacted to my suggestion that there should be a cronenberg-crash au. why not.

adrenaline junkie bullshit: like full jackass stunt nonsense. escalation to completely dangerous levels. deep sea diving, mountain climbing, parachuting, throwing a bowling ball at someone's nuts, etc.

bdsm: there is SOME--really really good stuff--but i want MORE. the way half of them like getting strapped into the seat but the other half hate it? but also the way that the adrenaline junkie bullshit feeds into painplay. and like the Whole Entire Concept of Discipline is just sports sports sports all over.

power dynamics and sexual ownership: while most sport rpf deals with teams, f1/motor is more individual-based. a driver is virtually owned by their team and it's extremely hierarchical. it's what creates these intense rivalries and shifting loyalties. also the cost vs. income difference for the lower formulas vs. f1. idk i just think there should be fics where teams bring that into play for sex reasons.

age difference: some ships come with it built-in, of course. there's this legacy of mentorship that i've noticed which is sort of a combination of coach/player and agent/player. then there's engineers and team principals who also have rich opportunities. mechanics are also often older than the drivers. and owners, sponsors, ancient pundits? so like...fuck that old man??

idk there's just a lot of dark, gross stuff happening in formula 1 and i think it needs to be turned into disgusting (affectionate) sex.

i am accepting recs, and i don't care what pairing it is.

that all being said, and at this point i'm second-guessing every single sentence i've written here, there's still a ton of new younger fans coming in. you can look at the charting of most popular pairings across the past 10 years or so and see it happening. and please don't get me wrong: the cycle of fandom is actually necessary and i love to have fresh writers and readers involved! just that, well.

if i've been in a fandom for x-number of years, i'm going to have to theoretically get more and more creative in order to produce something fresh and different. so unless i want to write some long, well-researched, plot-heavy character exploration through the romance genre, i'm here suggesting that we put a gearshift up someone's ass. okay? okay. but new writers don't need to necessarily go that far. so it's gonna be more tame, more vanilla. less kinky. and likewise, less willing to take a chance on a bit of strange.

[iammistressofmyfate]

Fic Stats Tag Game

Rules: Give us the links to your fics with the most hits, second most kudos, third most comments, fourth most bookmarks, fifth most words, and your fic with the least amount of words.

Thanks so much for the tag @zephfair 🥰

Most Hits: Kintsugi - 7,639 Hits - Matchablossom, SK8 the Infinity - Kaoru has long buried his emotions around relationships and sex, particularly in regards to his feelings about Kojiro, but since his beef with Adam, he isn't sure if he wants to continue keeping himself as buttoned up as he has over the past seven years.

Second Most Kudos: Kintsugi, again - 728 Kudos

Third Most Comments: Stealing My Clothes - 38 Comment Threads - Matchablossom, SK8 the Infinity -

Kojiro didn’t stop teasing Kaoru about it though. He reminded Kojiro of a magpie, only instead of stealing shiny things, he stole well-loved t-shirts and sweatshirts.

or

Kojiro leant Kaoru his favorite shirt once and never got it back because it became a source of comfort for Kaoru. Now Kaoru steals Kojiro's clothes all the time and Kojiro is settling in to being okay with that.

Fourth Most Bookmarks: Gifts - 104 Bookmarks - Matchablossom, SK8 the Infinity - Every year Kaoru asks Kojiro what he wants for his birthday and every year he gets the same answer...that he doesn't want or need anything. Kaoru decides to go all out and spoil his man.

Fifth Most Words: Teaghlach - 36,483 Words - Pynch, The Raven Cycle/Dreamer Trilogy -

The sample size was small, but literally everyone Ronan knew, besides Hennessy and Carmen Farooq-Lane, were having babies. He didn’t necessarily consider himself the baby having type. Most people would look at him and think that he would be the one to drop said baby. He would be the first to say that his lifestyle was not necessarily accommodating to a baby. But nonetheless…Ronan Lynch wanted a baby.

_

The one in which Lindenmere manifests a baby and catapults Ronan and Adam into Parenthood

Least Amount of Words: Count the Ways - 281 Words - Mike Chilton/Julie Kane, Motorcity - Mike reflects on all the things he loves about Julie. (I wrote this fic in 2012)

I'll tag @annaofaza @lizpaige and whoever else would like to do this! No pressure either way!

[spandexual]

HELLO! I JUST HEARD THE NEWS. I’m so sorry. I’m taking it well but I’m sorry for bringing it up before trying to distract you : (

Ughhhh, I really don’t have very new things to ask you so what are you planning for genshiro (if it’s secret, don’t tell, ahahah) Does it involve a lot of lollipop sucking, personally I find lollipop-centered fics to be fun /genuinely (I only read two, pain). Lollipops are great, do you have favourite flavour, lolp?

Also maybe any tips on building wardrobe for a person who mostly goes to work?.. lol (Aren’t we all) I can have a fun makeup days but my clothes are still NPC and I don’t go out thaaat much so maybe anything about hats, scarfs, style direction, eeeeh. Recently got a stars belt, yay! I’m not scared of colours, I love them, but the stores around are 😔

Btw, didn’t say so yesterday but really wanna try Jazz Club on skin soon, hhh, even if might not end up purchasing, wish me luck on that, they’re out of stock EVERYWHERE. TF is still out there though.

it fucking sucks!!! ugh I'm really upset coz he was one of my faves but well >idols >being fake as hell broken people >shockedpikachu.jpg

and actually the lollipops are only a small part of it so far hahaha! I did see that someone had already written one and I don't really like to retread things unless I have a completely different take that I feel needs to be put out there. I am 100% selfish in my fic-writing lol! It will involve some other idiosyncrasies I find fascinating about Genba's character though. Hm, actually, I'm only about 80% selfish considering I added something a little fetishy that is not my fetish but is something that completely fits his character. For the type of people that enjoy that particular kink, I hope it hits the spot lol

As for work clothing, it's really hard, isn't it. I work in a very sombre environment (it's a very specific industry so I don't want to dox myself, but it's death-adjacent) so my work wardrobe is extremely bland, just dark colour pants and plain button-up shirts, maybe the occasional inoffensive Micro-Florals For Men print or something. That's why I go out so hard on my days off! But I think having a good baseline of high quality versatile basics is important. Your basics don't have to be what other people think are basics either. For example, when I worked in a more normal office environment, I often wore vintage button-ups in pastels and fun patterns (not the more vibrant ones though, they're strictly weekenders) with the rest of my outfit being average businesswear. I think that's a good way to incorporate a little fun into your daily wear. Plus, you can get some really nice silk and quality cotton 80s/90s vintage shirts for pretty cheap because they're not trendy with kids lol. Like half of my wardrobe is vintage, I really recommend it. But I think the most important thing is kind of just finding your work "uniform", capsule-ising it (I have abt 10 shirts, 3 pairs of pants, and 2 skirts I rotate) and focusing on what you actually like wearing on your days off. That way you can reduce your stress level in the morning by not having to think about it, and you're not stuck in thinking "but can I wear this to work?" when you're looking at a piece of clothing that actually speaks to you.

And good luck with Jazz Club!!! I really really love it, it's such a sexy and sophisticated scent that is also so warm and soothing. Even though it's sold as a male perfume, I think it has a definite sweet softness. I'm usually so fussy with perfume, and I often only buy testers or travel sizes, but I bought a bottle of that like after my second try. Do see if you can find a site that sells samples btw, they shouldn't be expensive, but the only sites I've used are strictly Australian so I can't recommend you one unfortunately. Probably just search "reddit perfume samples websites" lol

[maidenvault]

Oh that’s definitely where the idea comes from to my knowledge, but as someone helpfully pointed out in the tags, it’s become blown out of proportion even in comparison to how Traviss wrote it because only a select few clones have even been able to actually learn the language in her canon, which makes more sense.

The EU used to have an even looser relationship with main canon than it has now. As I understand, many things about the portrayal of the clones in the Republic Commando series and other material from before TCW are discarded or actively contradicted by the show. The small sample size of bounty hunters who trained clones that we ever see in the series doesn’t suggest that many of the trainers they knew besides Jango were even Mandalorian. So it just doesn’t make much sense to me how widely accepted it is as part of canon, rather than just being played around with as a crossover idea melding some Legends stuff with what’s still official canon. My guess is a lot of people writing the clones this way haven’t even read those books and realized how largely retconned they are overall, it’s practically just become this extremely pervasive fanon that took on a life of its own. To me the fact that them identifying with Mando culture in any important way never comes up in two clone-centric shows, even when clones eventually invade Mandalore fighting alongside Mandalorians, is as good as canon actively contradicting that idea, so it feels like I’m reading about different characters when it’s emphasized so much in fic.

It’s just a much more interesting idea to me that there are so many clone troopers in the galaxy they could populate a country and essentially do, that they’re basically their own people who developed their own culture, they don’t need to be Mandalorian in any meaningful way. They’re never portrayed that way in main canon except with the smallest of evidence (Rex’s helmet design or whatever) and it drives me kind of nuts.

Jango Fett sure as shit did not think of the clones as Mandalorian or give a crap about them. You know who gives a crap? Each other. They decided they’re more than an army, they’re the only family they have. It’s a practically universal clone thing that they call each other brothers even though they’re technically not and that’s part of their specific culture.

Going by names they chose for themselves or earned instead of their numbers is part of their culture. So are words like “shiny” and “bucket.” They paint designs on their armor and commonly have identifying tattoos as part of their culture.

In main canon we do see that clones generally think of themselves as Kaminoan humans. Like so many SW species the Kaminoans are simplistically treated in canon as being practically synonymous with the profession they’re known for, cloning, which I think kind of resolves the confusion about how the destruction of Tipoca City and the cloning facilities in TBB is later discussed as a genocidal destruction of the whole species and their home. It really drives home that Kamino isn’t really Kamino without them. They’re the reason those places were built and the vast majority of the people on that world were clones. It’s not a great home to come from but it was a place mostly specific to them where they had each other, the only home they actually knew growing up, unlike the Republic they fought for or Mandalore.

tl;dr who cares about deadbeat dad Jango and whatever “culture” he passed onto the clones.

[heli0s-writes]

hi!! when writing Steve, I feel like I keep falling back onto the 1-dimensional shy/reserved virgin trope and/or overly-traditional guy trope that he’s so often cornered into? (sometimes even in the mcu films)

I always thought ur characterization of Steve is so on point (esp when he’s mean, stubborn, etc..) and was wondering if you had any advice on how to characterize him more accurately?? (thought that’s probably subjective for everyone)

Sending u lots of love and happy vibes :))))❤️❤️

These 2 scenes help a lot when I write Steve. They're perfect markers of his character in different times. I have to think of "when" Steve is when I write him. Like, if he's Avengers 1 era, he's definitely more shy and reserved, but in IW, he's given all of his fucks away.

I try to imagine a character from point A to point B in my fic, and on their path to point B, how far can they deviate from their canon/acceptable personality?

Steve's been mean in my fics-- which he is not generally in canon. So I had to build something reasonable for him to be mean about, you know? Like-- IW Steve told the US government he is so far beyond asking for permission it's eating his goddamn dust. And that's because of the events of CW; prior to that, it wouldn't have made sense.

What helped me the most was reading a lot of fics outside of reader-inserts because we're such a small and specific sample size to learn from. Reader-insert fics can often pigeonhole a character because we're trying to write them in a romantic relationship with a somewhat non-descript character.

Here are a few recs:

only seeing myself - Steve/Nat where Steve is sub, missing home, endeared by Nat.

i have found what you are like - Steve/Jason Todd short fic where Steve is dom. This line let me SEE:

And Steve's voice is steady and sure, but he's trembling against Jason because someone's finally let him use all that power he has.

A lot of top!Steve fics revolve around the idea that Steve is being allowed to be strong. And I think that's an excellent way to set it up. And it can be just as short and sweet as that one sentence. Otherwise, if he's just like, purely rough in bed it's hard for me to reconcile. His character is generally not suggested to be that way.

Finally, also, it is perfectly okay to write a character 1 way. This means that you're probably the most comfortable with this characterization or that you just simply like it. It takes practice to branch out. :) Good luck! Hope my rambling helped!! Sorry there was so much!!

[brick-a-doodle-do]

not quite ready (i)

(ao3 link)

sup! wilbur chocolate au is here! fun fact: i wrote this while eating wilbur chocolate :DD (very good btw,,, some of my favorite chocolates even tho i don't rlly like chocolate)

okay just fyi this is a boring chapter—chapter two will definitely have a lot more angst. not to say this one doesn't, it definitely does.

alr, now have the fic >:))

tw !! ⚠️ mention of fatal vore/mouthplay, mention of vore, mention of suicide attempts, suicidal thoughts, mention/implication of dehumanization/mishandling of a humanoid, panic, swearing ⚠️ !!

words: 2180

—-—

There came a time, where the hope Wilbur had simply died down. It shattered to the ground, letting light for the intrusive, negative thoughts. They pushed any positivity firmly in the crevice of his mind, and never allowed them to simply take a look out. And because of this, there was no acceptance. He never would accept this hellhole of a home.

Essentially, a merry-go-round of hell, where every single fucking time a human comes by, they simply give him a hell-ride and walk off, not bothering to even notice the protests that come from his mouth. He still attempts them, despite knowing damn-well the type of store he’s in; if there is a human that steps foot into this building, they are looking for his kind. They’re looking simply for a treat. Wilbur, although he used to deny this, has finally come to terms with his ultimate fate, between two rows of teeth, completely content with shattering the bones and life of an innocent, who’s only flaw is a size not taller than a finger. Somehow, some way, it makes his life have a lesser value. And perhaps Wilbur has seen the truth to that statement. 

So, Wilbur continues to sit, counting seconds among minutes in his head despite knowing full-well they were nothing but inaccurate to what the time truly was. But, with little but a pinhole for his source of light, and he woefully admits his breathing, he’s become plenty used to error in his technique of containing his sanity. Some days were more successful than others, where he simply paced along the rocky path the chocolates created, simply thinking and rethinking over his life, wandering down every metaphorical path, as if it could change the outcome of his current life. But, there are others, where he sits against the pinhole, with his knees curled firmly to his chest, and where his hands wrap them. Where he buries his head in his lap and simply sobs. And other, more exhilarating days, where he finds the wrath in him has become tired of sitting still and accompanies his grim thoughts. 

Wilbur Soot will not deny that he absolutely despises his very existence. He loathes his size, barely the size of a human finger – making it next to futile for him to defend himself, and he often feels he’d find more peace dead than he will just simply sitting, taking in the void. Wilbur has wished so hard for it to end, but no matter how many thoughts begged the universe for it, he never got results. And he’s attempted to rid of himself, but each attempt ends in failure, where he’s forced to spend another day in an agonizing, miserable hell that is, what looks to be, a simple bag of candy. He wants it to be like that. But, alas, it is not. And he is very much still alive and sulking in the middle of the bag, just gazing at the miniscule hole, like it holds secrets he yearns to be revealed.

The lights were on – the hole was glowing a certain color that told him the store was open. Wilbur did not have a proper way of knowing how much time had passed and when, but he does understand the basics of a store. Lights on means it’s open, lights off means it’s closed. Simple. 

A shadow passes the hole, blocking the light just slightly. Wilbur’s interest perks at this, but not enough to spark any kind of hope. He knows better than to assume the best for himself. He shifts his position slightly, leaning against the back of the wall as he continues to watch the small sample of the world he’s been given. Tire nags at his eyes, but he doesn’t dare sleep. Perhaps it’s because some part of him really does wonder, really does hope, that he’ll be getting out. 

–

He’d first moved there not only to get away for a bit, but because he realized that his thoughts were starting to get to him. Constantly having intrusive and careful thoughts fighting in his mind, all while skimming the ground to ensure he wouldn’t be misstepping, was a task he did not enjoy. He holds no prejudice against the smaller beings, they are no less human than he, however it can get distressing to worry nearly every moment of the day where he’s doing a thing as simple as walking.

But, he finds that the streets of New York are unfortunately far more crowded than those in London. While trying to avoid hundreds of tourists coming at him eye-level, with the addition of tinies – it becomes overwhelming. Which is why one afternoon when he deemed himself frustrated and over-tired of worrying, he took temporary shelter in a store, located in a particularly odd part of town, yet still busy as normal.

It looked oddly isolated, like it was not meant to be seen by the public. He still managed to find it, though, so he wondered if it was that hidden. Bells chimed softly as he entered, almost startling the cashier in the back of the building. Tommy offered him a quick smile before he allowed himself to get lost in isles among isles, eyes scanning over the contents in the store. Ultimately, after he had circled the small store, he concluded bitterly that everything looked unfortunately unappetizing. 

He returned to the middle of the store, grabbing mindlessly at a bag of Wilbur Chocolate. Hopefully he’ll feel up to eating it by the time he returns home. If he even makes it home without starting a crime scene.

Tommy ambled to the back corner, where the cashier sat at a stool, looking unusually alert of everything he did. Like he was noting it in the back of his mind. And he did not miss the small smirk under the man’s lips. Avoiding the odd look, he set the bag down on its side and patted himself for whatever money he had on him. “Ah, good choice,” The man said. Tommy nodded. 

“Twenty dollars and twenty-six cents.”

Tommy’s eyes widened. “Twenty dollars? For that?” 

Something in the cashier’s eyes shifted, and his smirk returned, this time far more curious. He raised his brow and said, “They aren’t exactly cheap, sir. I can’t go giving them out for free,”

“The…. chocolates?” 

The man huffed in amusement, nodding. “Sure, the chocolates.”

Americans. “Here.” He handed the man the extra bills he’d fished from his pockets and grabbed the bag sourly. He bid a small goodbye out of habit and made his way back to the glass doors. “I hope you enjoy the chocolates, sir!” 

Prime, why did he move here?

—

Wilbur no longer has the wish to be free. Deep down inside of him, the feeling of freedom would be refreshing, but the actuality of the situation has finally sat in him. And he cannot be more afraid, more unwelcoming, about what is to come. Wilbur does not want to be handled by a human, to be tossed around like some fucking toy, when he simply is not that. He knows that his fate will be sealed when he finds his frail, emotional body being crushed under the weight of two rows of teeth as he feels the life being sucked out of him completely, just because of a simple height difference. A major one, however still one that makes him human.

Wilbur is nervous as he feels the bag swaying with every step the human takes. He heard their conversation. The human had been hesitant, but only when he initially heard the price – when the god-awful cashier just had to make a little comment, that’s when he was being purchased, fucking bought willingly. Without any damn hesitation. His nails dug into the candy below him, sure to leave deep dents in it. His breathing had gone haywire since his realization, and it hasn’t gone back to normal since. Beads of tears built up in the corner of his eyes and he couldn’t help but just allow himself to sob. One final time, he will sit in this bag and cry. 

Minutes after minutes pass by, and his surroundings continue to sway. The only thing he can hear is the crowded chatter of passing humans, where their shadows continue to make his natural light flicker. Wilbur wishes to scream. But, before he can develop that sudden thought, the swaying stops. And there is a gentle, quiet gush of wind as he’s set down. The movement is followed with the closing of a door.

Wilbur shuffles, nearly tearing his hands from the chocolates. He cringes at the feeling under his nails, but he doesn’t stop his quick movements to the ‘window.’ 

Through the small hole, Wilbur can see the human who’d bought him not…..Wilbur does not know how long ago it was. Minutes blended into each other when he wasn’t in control of his thoughts.

He had blond hair, far different than his, while still holding a similar style. Or, at least, that’s what Wilbur remembers his hair to look like. Truth be told, it’s been an absurd number of months since he’s last seen what he looks like. For all he knows, there could be a drastic change in his appearance.

Shifting his attention back to the human, his heart sinks as he catches onto the youth the boy has. There was absolutely no fucking way he was over twenty, which, in his opinion, could either be extremely good, or extremely bad. On one hand, he could be innocent and inexperienced. Where in his eyes, he was just buying a bag of chocolates from a local store he’d stumbled upon. And, on another, more immoral hand, he could be starting sinister habits at a young age, where he’s only just starting his now-career of finding pleasure in ending the lives of an innocent. Starting, or maybe continuing, with Wilbur.

He exhaled heavily while he kept his eyes on the blond specifically, not bothering to check the surroundings of where he’s going to reside, and most likely die, in.

Wilbur let out a startled noise as he realized the human had lost interest in whatever he had been doing and reminded himself of the bag of candy. Shit. Wilbur didn’t have anywhere to go as the boy’s shadow filled the pinhole and left him in a deep darkness. He felt when the bag collided with the open air. He felt the panic rise back in him when the human began moving elsewhere. Wilbur wondered if the boy knew. There was a low chance he didn’t – after all, the store he was in specifically held illegal products containing the small species. It was a false hope to think he simply wandered in there one evening to buy just a bag of chocolate.

Wilbur was set down once more. One final time. Wilbur tried to enjoy his last final minutes of life, but he found it hard to when he was in the same place he’d been in for months. 

He listened intently as the sound of the secure strip above the opening for the bag was ripped, and most likely set aside. Nerve fluttered through every crevice of his body. He wished to bury himself deep within the candy below, so he would not yet have to meet his sudden fate. But the thought died down as he realized he was far too late to make a last-ditch-effort of a plan, for the top of the bag was being effortlessly opened, and content, tired blue eyes that turned curious and frightened shined down onto him. A fresh wave of cool air washed over him, and he hates to admit that it felt refreshing. The void was wiped away instantly. Everything he ever complained about internally was buried away, completely vanishing. However, a new concern grew. The human’s eyes had gone wide, with lips parted as he stared, mouth agape. He didn’t utter words; he just returned the gaze. He glared, though. Brows furrowed in anger as he tightened his jaw. Tears still formed at the edge of his eyes, easily falling over the edge.

— 

A lot of things became apparent to him when he caught sight of the small brunet, blending in with similarly colored chocolates. In fact, everything became apparent. The odd conversation, that prime-awful smirk, the reason behind the store being tucked away. 

“Shit,” he muttered, not daring to take his eyes away from the small guy. He saw how his small eyes became foggy with tears. Poor fucking thing was scared. And not only because of him, but because some assholes made a grand decision to add living, breathing humans to food items. Suddenly a lot of his complaints and whines seemed childish.

Tommy hadn't a clue over what was happening in a tinies life. When he watched them closely on the streets, they looked just as a human usually would, happy and giddy with each other despite a small hint of caution. He had never taken into consideration what else might be happening.

—-—-—-—-—

(part two)

apologies for typos. the day i proofread before posting is the day i stop writing :')

[minteacutie]

Hey there @hitchqueen I’m your Secret Santa!!! I wrote you this saucy little fic, about a sneezy allergic Eddie getting teased by his boyfriend Steve! I hope this is what you were looking for, and a bit thanks to @softsnzstuff for putting this together! 18+ only! No minors beyond this point!!!!  ~ Steve glanced up again when he heard Eddie’s breath hitch for the hundredth time in an hour, glancing at his boyfriend over his glasses. The older man was hunched over his binder working on a Campaign…or at least was trying to work on a Campaign. Eddie had been struggling with allergies spending most of the morning holding back sneezes, but now he wanted to sneeze it seemed like his poor nose was going on strike. It was driving his boyfriend nuts and it was driving Steve nuts. He eventually gave a frustrated grumble, shoving the binder aside and tossing his pen on the bedspread. In favor of having both his hands free to scrub at his irritated pink nose. “Eds come here,”Steve huffed out a laugh watching his boyfriend glare at him from his place on the bed, “come on…let me help, baby.” Eddie pouted, but he got up moving to the couch with Steve sitting down with a plop, “You’re just doing this beca-hah’hih’...because you like to see me all itchy and sneezy.” He rubbed his itchy pink nose in circles. “That may be true…”Steve trailed off a bit, taking a moment to pull his boyfriend into his lap so he could have better access to his flushed pink nostrils, “but I also hate seeing you so miserable.” “My knight in shining arhih-armor…gh!” Eddie scrubbed his nose with his wrist, “screw ihhhh-it get this ithihhhch out of mby dnose…sndf.” “Your wish is my command…”Steve cupped his boyfriend's face in his hands, letting his thumbs ghost over Eddie’s sinus as his breath hitched wildly. “Ohhhhuh that itches…”Eddie whined his pink nostrils flickering and flaring. Steve hummed, using his blunt nails to trace Eddie’s wide nostrils teasing the rims of his nostril, the hot pink flesh squirming underneath his gentle touch. Not enough to tip him over the edge just enough to tease him. “Steeeeve…”Eddie whined, rubbing his itchy pink nose against the younger man’s knuckles, huffing at his boyfriend with a watery glare. “Alright, alright,”Steve laughed, pressing a kiss to his boyfriend’s cheek, “I’ll stop teasing…” He traced his blunt nail down Eddie’s septum one last time before ducking under the couch. He slid a small box from under the couch that contained a few items that Steve knew Eddie was allergic to, letting his boyfriend choose from them. Inside was a small sample size cologne bottle, a feather that had been collecting dust, and a single lily. Eddie looked over his selection with watery eyes, absentmindedly rubbing his nose. Plucking the single feather from the box, twirling it in his finger before handing it to Steve with an amused little gleam in his eyes, “Do yohuhhh-your worst baby…” That was all the permission Steve needed to start tracing Eddie’s nose with the feather, doing figure eights on his trembling nostrils. “Hihh’huhh’ihhh!”Eddie’s breath hitched widely as the feather brushed over his nose igniting the burning itch deep in his nostrils. He felt the feather slip into his nose, the dusty feather twirling around brushing the edges of his sinus’, chest swelling with large breaths. A single strand brushed against a particularly sensitive spot in his left nostril and something in him finally snapped. “Hih’ihGXSHiew! Hah’IHGSHIIEW! Hih’ihh…gh.”Eddie scrubbed his itchy pink nose in little circles, the tickle continuing to tease his poor sensitive nose. “Not so rough, Ed’s…”Steve cooed, gently tugging Eddie’s hands away from his face, so that he could rub his nose for him. Feeling his nostrils squirm underneath his touch. “Hih’GXXsht!”Eddie stifled a sneeze against Steve’s finger tips with a whine, mashing his hot pink nostrils against his finger tips, “...ghh sorry ‘bout that…” “ S’okay baby…”Steve murmured, a flush creeping up his face when Eddie stifled a sneeze against his fingers. “Mmm…I guess it’s a good thing that you like this…”Eddie hummed, watching the younger man's face turn a lovely shade of pink as he took the feather from his hand. Using it to tease his irritated nose. “Hah’ehhh…”He squinted, feeling his chest swell with itchy breaths as Eddie teased his own nose doing his best to hold back, watching Steve squirm. Eddie sniffled thickly a bit of fluff getting suctioned into his wide nostrils before letting loose, “Hah’AHSHiew!! ‘ESSshiew!!! HEH’ISSshiew!!!...gh” He flopped against the couch, with a stuffy sigh, panting. “That was quite the show baby…”Steve cleared his throat, using a couple of tissues to get him cleaned up, “think it’s time for some allergy meds.”

He replaced the feather sliding the box back underneath the couch before getting up to go grab the allergy meds.

Bringing a wet washcloth with him, Steve used it to wipe down Eddie’s itchy face, shaking out a couple of pills pressing them into his boyfriend's hand. “Yeah I think it’s time for some meds and a nap…”He murmured. “Cad’t gotta fidish the cabpaigd…”Eddie answered stuffily blowing his nose into the tissues Steve held to his nose, taking the medicine with a sip of water.

“Your next campaign isn’t for a few days…”Steve combed the older man’s hair back away from his face, pulling him back onto the couch with him so he could lay down, “you got time to take a nap with me.”

Eddie didn’t put up much of a fight, slumping against Steve’s chest letting his eyes slip closed before his body fully relaxed with a stuffy little snore.

[modularnra40]

OP is spot on really, I have no real quibbles. Also without doing any further digging, OPs statement about having to explain hits at work makes me suspect they've got some background. But I'm a Stats Person™️ and a big big fanfic reader (from ye olden days of live journal and pairing specific web forums even) so I have some further thoughts I want to share lol

1) I do actually have a quibble, it's about the law of large numbers. And the idea that it particularly matters how things like hits are calculated, or people's intentions with their kudos.

Basically, "law of large numbers" says that the larger the sample size the more it trends towards the average. Ie the more times you flip a coin the closer you will get towards 50/50 heads vs tails distribution. This is related to the hits/kudos thing because no matter how ao3 measures hits, either the anomalous bff checking the fic 10 times in a day will disappear into the general background noise, or other fics will experience roughly similar things often enough to balance those anomalies out. Likewise with kudos - generally speaking people leave kudos as a indicator of some positive feeling toward a fic, so anomalous trivial or "pity" kudos will trend towards being insignificant.

That being said -- ultimately I think OP was primarily talking to fanfic /authors/ not readers.... The thing about the law of large numbers is that it only works.... In large numbers. So as a reader looking for a very rough heuristic to start evaluating fic from, sight unseen, using these stats is great! And the more fic in the pool I'm looking through, the more generally accurate it is going to feel. If a really really good fic has an abysmal ratio.... That doesn't really matter to me as a reader? I mean, it does because I want to read that fic, but since I don't actually know for sure it exists I'm not actually losing anything by just looking at the top 200 fics according to my heuristic -- I don't have enough time in my day to check out every fic so I'm going to miss some gems no matter what I do, and if my heuristic /tends/ to find me fics I like it's worthwhile to use, even if it's not perfect.

But for looking at a specific fic, ie an author evaluating a fic they wrote, the numbers are meaningless, just like OP was talking about. Those various anomalous scenarios hit /hard/ on any given single fic.

OK! Also I want to talk a little about my own methods for finding fic, now that's all out of the way. Because that law of large numbers stuff is relevant to my methods lol.

So - basically I have 3 main ways of finding fic. 1 is non-actionable -- that is, it's finding fic recs on social media or from friends, etc. purely passive on my part, nothing more to say about it.

2) like OP mentioned - look at the other fics of authors you like, look at the bookmarks/kudos of authors you like (people generally, broadly speaking, tend to like the kind of stuff they read? Obviously there are exceptions, but in my experience this tends to be the case. If you want to find whump for a certain pairing, check the bookmarks of a whump writer for that pairing, etc) also check the bookmarks of people who commented (or left kudos, but that's usually a less significant indicator).

3) heuristics baby -- I'm lazy so I don't generally bother to actually sort by ratio, but if I'm jonesing for some specific pairing/tag combo I have a process:

- click on the pairing tag (this will be the basis of my search)

- in the filter sidebar, include/exclude whatever additional warnings, tags, rating level, etc as suits my particular desire de jour

- here comes a transition point -- either this is a target rich environment (>2000 fics, ie 100 pages), a small bool (<200 fics, ie 10 pages), or somewhere in between.

- if it is a small pool, I generally just sort by update date and read summaries to find fic I might like

- if it is a target rich environment I generally consider adding more include/exclude restrictions, probably a word count limit ( I like longer fic which cuts out a lot ), probably remove crossovers (mostly to get rid of incredibly annoying compilation "fics"), possibly throw in a >X kudos where X is picked to reduce the number of fics to ~500, and then sort by hits asc (ie least hits first). I'll also sometimes do a moving date window - ie sort by kudos, in the last 6 months, then when I stop finding fic I like move it back another 6 months, etc; especially for fandoms with a long active period, like Supernatural, Batman, a lot of classic anime fandoms, etc

- if it's in between... Depends on how much patience I have that day for "less approachable" fic (ie fic where the prose is further from the sort of "house style" people talk about these days, or fic that strays further from fandom tropes, etc) if I am feeling up to expending more effort in my reading I tend to just go by update date. If I need something less chewy then I'll just sort by kudos desc (most to least)... It's not the most accurate heuristic, but it's very broadly speaking applicable

Some notes:

The initial "weeding" is Very Important -- ie, getting your initial pool of fic. If this pool is too broad, then fandom trends or differences in community behavior can throw stuff way out of whack. IE if you particularly want to read gen fic, just searching the "obi-wan & anikin" tag is NOT likely to get you effective results... So you've got to exclude what you don't want to see -- and given the way tagging tends to be an "err on the side of including it" thing, then you are likely going to exclude some fic you would have really liked actually! And if you leave some ship tags in, it is my experience that ship fic often gets more engagement then gen fic.... So if you use the quick and dirty heuristics to give you a starting point, probably you'll have to do more "wading" at the top of your list then is really the intention of using kudos/comments as a sorting function.

If you have multiple fandoms included in your search results -- maybe you are particularly interested in a certain trope, whatever -- the more likely you'll see weird stratification of the results.... Just because some fandoms are waaaay bigger then the others. Or even just chattier? I don't have any hard numbers, but I'm pretty sure that some fandoms have waaaay different numbers vis a vis common hits/kudos/comments ratios just because of like. Fandom culture stuff. There is a certain sweet spot where the fandom is big enough to be popping, but small enough that people tend to be chatty with each other that I think gets dropped with the super large fandoms which tend to have a lot of pure lurkers -- who might kudos in droves, but never ever comment. So if you are searching a particular trope tag by comment/hit ratio, you will probably end up with weird "bands" of fandom -- which don't necessarily compare to each other quite right. YMMV on if that matters to you at all tho, and it's easily compensated for by just restricting your search to one fandom at a time (same thing happens for pairings within fandoms, but generally to a lesser extent)

-- tl;dr: OP is totally right, that being said here is a very long description of some ways I find fanfics lol

I see a lot of posts going by about comments and kudos and hits and...well... I've been thinking about the three quite a lot lately--as both a fic author and someone who spends a lot of my professional life looking at web metrics and determining which are actually important/accurate measures of user engagement.

Mileage varies, of course. And this is all just MY opinion, so do feel free to ignore it wholesale.

What I think when I see someone say that sorting by a hits to to kudos ratio is a good way to find "good" fic:

Hits are a measure of quantity (how many times your story or art has been viewed), but without knowing how AO3 defines a hit, it's actually kind of a meaningless number.  We know that our own views of our work do not count toward hits, but...if my BFF looks at my story 7 times in one day because she keeps trying to read it but getting interrupted...is that one hit, or seven? And if it's seven, then the numbers are artificially inflated because it's really just Bestie trying to get her Codex fix. And...if Bestie looks at it three times today and four tomorrow...is that 7 hits total, or two? 

Some transparency on the part of AO3 could clear this up handily, but until we get that...shrug. All it is is a number that may or may not be an accurate reflection of how many actual people looked at the page your fic is on.  Did they READ it? Or did they nope out?  No way to know.

Kudos are intended to be slightly more qualitative, but there is no way of knowing why the reader gave them. (Similar to likes here on tumblr.) It might be that they loved the piece. It might be a simple acknowledgement that the reader was there. It might even be a pity kudo. We have no way of knowing. It's, again, just a number.

Obviously, everyone is free to interpret both hits and kudos as positive reaction/interaction. I might do that myself if I didn't spend my workdays explaining to people that 50,000 "hits" to the website could be 50K people who came to learn about us or...simply the result of the computer labs on campus having the university homepage set to default.

Bigger numbers are just that....bigger numbers.

Comments are the only objective way to judge how someone is reacting to your fic or art.

So, what then? Sort by number of comments?

You can do that, sure. (I think. I confess I have never once gotten the AO3 search to work as well as people rave about.) But do keep in mind that many authors answer their comments. So, something with, say, 20 comments may be 20 people telling the author they loved it. Or it might be ten people and ten author-replies. OR, it might be three people having a conversation in the comments. You have to look and see.  

Bigger numbers are just bigger numbers.

Okay, fine Elis. What am I supposed to do then?

Look, I'm not your mother or your therapist and you are free to assign whatever meanings you like to these things. I, personally, find "good" fic through a combination of things including: recs, the fandom grapevine, dumb luck, events, and just...reading some of it and not feeling guilty if I nope out for some reason.

This all sounds a little depressing when laid out like this, huh? Especially when you take into account the downward trends in interacting and the rise of folks treating fic and art as content to be consumed. 

Here's what I have learned from writing fic for 30 years (well, 28 and counting):

As an author (and an artist, I would presume), you have absolutely no way of predicting which of your work will land and take hold and which will not. It's alchemy and luck and the weird (and not actual) algorithm of fandom. Sometimes, the piece you whipped out in 30 minutes and posted on the fly will land in the right person's inbox and they will share it and their friends will share it and it will get big.  Sometimes, the piece you slaved over for weeks and weeks will do that...sometimes it won't.  Sometimes your genius manifests and resonates, sometimes it does not.

My personal favorite fic of my own--the one I think is probably the best thing I have done in SW fandom-- has like 8 kudos and 4 comments (2 of which are my responses). Is it disappointing? Yes. Is it an indication that the fic is objectively "bad"? No.

The mercenary in me suggests that if you want to get lots of comments and kudos, you should pick the pairing that is THE pairing in the fandom and write for that--because that's where the eyeballs are, because that's where the connections are.  But that is not why I write, so it's just that--a very mercenary way of looking at things. Not that there is anything WRONG with doing it that way. Supply and demand run the world. If the people want Codywan and you want the people....give them Codywan. No shame in that.

And there is no shame in wanting or seeking validation for your work, either.

But it breaks my heart to see authors (and artists) give up on themselves when they do not receive piles of kudos and comments. It's not you. It's...the luck of the draw. It's...fandom. It's...an artificial and murky set of measurements that have almost no basis in anything meaningful.

Keep writing. Keep drawing. Keep sharing. You are what you make, not how people respond to it.

[authortobenamedlater]

47 and 48 for the asks!

These are hard because when you’ve been writing fanfic for over half of your life, you have a large sample size. 😂

From these fanfic asks.

47. What fanfic of yours is truly underrated?

Probably Only Human. However, the episode it’s based on was…divisive…and I think some people just didn’t want to read anything to do with it. I also spent so long working on the story that by the time I finished it wasn’t fully canon compliant anymore.

I consider Only Human one of my most thoughtful works. It’s a messy situation (and boneheaded decision by the show’s writers, but that is another matter) and I tried hard to be sensitive while not pulling any punches. This story took more time and hand-wringing and rewriting and editing than most one-shots and I was scared to post it. So I’m proud of myself for sharing even though I was afraid of the reaction (which turned out to be unfounded) and it doesn’t have as many comments as I’d like…but does any fic have as many comments as the author wants? 😆

Also, the Halo AO3 fandom is small, especially compared to Star Wars, MCU, and Star Trek where I usually hang out, and I’ve had to learn to moderate my expectations for fanfic interaction.

48. What is your favorite sentence you’ve used in a fic?

“You’re homeless, unemployed, and stranded?”

Bo-Katan to Din in A Marriage of (In)convenience, after he tells her he’s going to be King of Mandalore because he has nowhere else to go.

“Well, aren’t you putting the ‘petty’ in ‘petty officer’ tonight.”

Cortana in Exception Handling, under the influence of an AI virus, to her poor overwrought Master Chief who just wants to be left alone for a few minutes.

I couldn’t pick just one LOL. I’m kinda proud of my penchant for snappy one-liners.