#so instead we live vicariously through fanfiction

[matchingbatbites]

Every fic I was working on took a backseat as soon as I had this idea. Dommy Mommy Sapphic Steddie coming to you sometime soon????

[theladyofdeath]

Lady Death's Lover {VII}

Lady Death's Lover Masterlist & Summary

19th Century Period AU Nesta x Cassian Secret Affair / Enemies to Lovers / Forbidden Romance Fanfiction / Characters from Sarah J Maas / ACOTAR B ased on a prompt sent in by anonymous

A/N: I meant to post this, like, a week ago...but I have to admit that I've been pretty down lately. It's not been a good mental health week. I apologize for the delay! Now that the school year is in full swing, I may only be posting one chapter a week instead of two. Thank you all so much for reading and I hope you continue to enjoy! x

TW: marital abuse, sexual content, language, depression, alcohol abuse

This story is for readers 18+. Mature readers only. Content should not be read by anyone under 18.

Dear Gwyn,

Emerie and I missed you this last tea. She told me all about her recent travels and now we must wait to hear all about yours once you return. Selfishly, I am glad you will not be gone for long. I swear, I am living vicariously through you and Emerie. I absolutely adore hearing about all the two of you see and do beyond the borders of Velaris. I will not spoil all that Emerie told me for I am certain you wish for her to tell you herself.

I will, however, briefly mention something that I shared. In all honesty, I’m a bit embarrassed about it. No one will ever know about it with the exception of the two of you. There is…a man. This man keeps popping into my mind and just yesterday he popped into my carriage as well. Although, I believe I am to blame for that. It was storming and I offered him shelter. However, that is not the issue. The issue is that, on multiple occasions now, I have felt towards this man. I do not need to tell you how troubling that is. 

I have not acted on these feelings, of course, but when he is near I lose all sense of myself and my duties. It seems silly. I do not know him, not truly. Perhaps I am simply lonely and find him handsome, that is all. At least, I hope that is all. 

Please burn this letter once you have read it and write back soon.

With love,

Nesta

Nesta

The sun is shining and the air is warm but I am absolutely miserable. I have been dragged to yet another social dinner alongside my husband. I am on his arm pretending to be the most loyal, loving wife, but inside I am raging. I feel like a caged animal ready to attack, only my target is my husband and that will simply not do.

Apparently, such thoughts are frowned upon.

Unsure of what this dinner is actually for, my mind has already become vacant once we reach our chairs. We are seated across from a few of Tomas’ business partners and their wives, high ranking members of the ton like ourselves. I let the men talk and for once I am grateful for it. If we women were to talk, I would have nothing kind to say to these women. In fact, I would surely say something to them that would get me smacked by the man on my arm.

My husband has never liked my sharp tongue. I figured that out quite quickly. 

It had been less than twenty-four hours into our marriage, the morning after our wedding, our consummation, when he first struck me. He entered my bedchamber and was appalled that I was still nude from the night before. I asked him why he did not like my body, while he was ashamed of my nakedness when it was he that stripped me bare the night before. His response was to throw a nightgown at me and tell me to cover up. He said that no woman should be bare in daylight that is not a whore.

I refused to put the gown on.

And then he hit me.

From that moment, not even twenty-four hours after we had said our vows, I knew my marriage would never be one full of love. 

We eat and the food is decent. The roasted chicken is flavorful and the vegetables have just enough crunch to be satisfying. Tomas does not allow me to drink the wine, but I long for it, just to help me get through the evening until I am safely alone in my room once more with only the company of a good book. 

Unable to make eye contact with the women across from me, my gaze drifts further down the table and my breathing halts. 

I hadn’t even realized he was here. I was so deep within my own thoughts and misery that I hadn’t taken account of who else was present with the exception of those seated across from us. He must have arrived after we did.

As if he can feel my eyes on him, his eyes swivel to mine. 

Lord Cassian is dressed in all his finery and it suits him, strangely. He is always dressed finely, but I still imagine him as a man that is naturally a bit unkempt. I would like to see that version of him.

I give him a polite nod.

He returns the gesture. 

I turn to Tomas to see if he notices my distraction but he is in an enthusiastic conversation with the man beside him — a man whose name I’ve forgotten. He must be important for some reason. 

I try not to look back at Cassian, I truly do, but I can feel him staring. My thoughts drift back to our time in my carriage. Although the ride was short, there was more excitement in that ride than I’ve had with any man in years. Thankfully we arrived at his home before anything could have happened.

And I fear that if the ride had continued any longer, something would have happened. I know such a thing is blasphemy, but I cannot help but wonder what it would be like.

To be ravished by a man like Lord Cassian. 

I look at him once more. His jaw is hard, his eyes dark, as if he knows the thoughts that are running through my mind. I reach for my glass of wine before I remember I do not have one, that my husband does not trust me to drink. 

Realizing I’ve been locking eyes with a lord who is not my husband for far too long, I focus on my empty plate. Still, I can feel his gaze linger, can feel his eyes roaming my body, begging me to look his way. I do not, can not.

Suddenly, I feel like I cannot breathe. The room has grown too hot and I feel as if I am suffocating. Luckily, everyone around the table has begun to rise. I believe the owner of this home, whoever he is, has offered to show everyone something he deems extravagant. Tomas tells me to stay with the other ladies while he goes off to see this extravagant piece of uselessness and leaves me be.

I take the opportunity to get far, far away. 

After sneaking through multiple winding hallways, I find myself outside and in the gardens. The early evening air is cool and welcoming as the sun begins its descent. I immediately find peace in the silence.

The silence evaporates too quickly. 

“Lady Nesta, are you alright?”

I spin around to see, of course, Lord Cassian. He’s standing casually, with his hands clasped behind his back. He’s not smiling. In fact, he looks concerned. 

“Yes, of course,” I reply, trying my best to remain unaffected. “You should return to the party.”

“The men have gone to see Lord Kallias’ new hunting trophies.” He shrugs and I want to laugh at how informal he seems. “I do not care to see such things. I care more to see how you are faring after looking so miserable for the past hour.” 

I snort. “And here I thought I was good at hiding my emotions.”

“You are,” he says, with no hesitation. “I may have been paying more attention than the others.”

I’m blushing.

I hate myself for blushing. 

Suddenly, I can feel his hand on my knee, my hand on his. I was foolish for touching him, for asking what I was about to ask that day in the carriage, but I find it hard to find regret.

I clear my throat. “I see.” 

He takes a step toward me, then another, and I’m frozen in place. 

“You should really go back inside, my lord,” I say, my hands drawing into fists at my sides to keep me grounded. “This is…”

“Inappropriate?” he supplies, stopping a mere foot away. “I mean nothing untoward. Besides, you and I were alone in your carriage just the other day and I do not recall you thinking that inappropriate.”

That may be true, but it quickly grew inappropriate once I wanted to rip off his clothes and mount him on the velvet bench. 

Wonderful. Now that’s all I’m thinking about. 

“I have changed my mind,” I say, quickly. “That and this are both inappropriate. Good day, my lord.”

He doesn’t move. 

“I came out here to be alone,” I add. 

He still doesn’t move.

Just as I’m about to yell at him, he says, ever-so-calmly, “He does not cherish you as he should.”

My back goes rigid. “Pardon me?”

“Your husband,” he says, as if he has any right to what he’s saying, as if it’s not blasphemy to be speaking to a married woman this way. “He does not cherish you. The entire dinner, he looked at you once, and the look he gave you was the same as if he was scolding a child.” 

Anger fuels me. There must be a certain level of arrogance to make a man say such a thing. My shock-filled anger must show because he shrugs.

Shrugs.

“I apologize if you do not care for my opinion,” he says, “but I have never been one to hold my tongue.”

I cannot breathe. “You know not of what you speak.”  

"And what is that?" he asks, that smirk remaining. "The truth? I know very well that I speak the truth. It is you that does not want to accept it." 

My jaw aches from how hard it’s clenching. “I believe you are drunk, my lord.”

My hostile tone doesn’t sway him. In fact, it makes his eyes grow brighter. He thinks I’m joking. He must, or he wouldn’t be this ignorant. 

“I may not be sober,” he confesses. “Although, I am far from drunk. Do I look drunk?”

No, he does not, but some people have a certain skill set for hiding their inebriation. Yet, he remains the perfect picture of a gentleman. 

“Leave,” I order, and when he does not, I add, “Please. Do not make me beg.” 

He does not falter. “I would not mind making you beg, Lady Nesta.”

I ignore the way my cheeks heat. “Lady Mandray is what you should refer to me as.”

“Is that the name you truly prefer?” he asks, and that humor dims, if only a little. He’s standing so close to me now that his scent is strong, overpowering me. Mint, with a hint of tobacco. “If so, it is what I will call you, but I fear you prefer Lady Nesta. Perhaps even just, simply, Nesta.” 

Honestly, I’m surprised I’ve been able to control myself for this long. “You must stop speaking to me as if you know me,” I snap. “We do not know each other. You are no friend of mine. The way you are speaking to me is distasteful to say the least. I have never had to endure such an absurd conversation, much less from a member of high society. You should be ashamed of yourself, my lord, to embarrass yourself in front of a lady, to act a fool. If you will not leave me alone, then I shall leave you be.”

I go to take a step around him, but he steps in my path and our bodies nearly collide. 

It’s annoying how he has a habit of doing that.

“Should I scream?” I whisper. It’s meant to be a threat, but my body feels like it’s on fire. “Cry out for help?”

“I have no intention of harming you,” he says, taken aback, as if the idea is ludicrous. I nearly feel bad for insinuating such a thing.

“No,” I say, and I mean it. “I know you would not.” 

He swallows, and neither of us move.

“I will leave you alone,” he says, and his voice is low, reaching my very core. I can feel his breath on my face, the warmth, smelling like expensive red wine. “I apologize if I have overstepped. And you are right. I do not know you, not well, but I have seen glimpses of who you are and that woman is very different from the woman who I saw sitting at that dinner table, next to a man she seems to loathe. I know you well enough to know that you deserve better than a loveless marriage. That is all.” 

“My lord—”

“Fogive me,” he breathes, and he sways forward as my breath catches. 

I called him a fool but it is I who is the fool. I am foolish for wanting this man to kiss me, to touch me, to sweep me into his arms and make me feel something. 

“There is nothing to forgive,” I say, and look from his welcoming lips to his eyes that are watching me so intently that I feel completely nude. 

He leans in closer and the panic sets in.

“I am sorry,” I say, and my voice sounds pathetically broken. “I must go back before Tomas returns.”

As much as I wish to have this moment, long to have this moment, I cannot endure Tomas’ wrath nor can I bear to embarass both myself and my husband before all these guests. I may be foolish, but I am not that foolish. 

Not now, not yet.

One look at me and Lord Cassian nods. There is no judgment in his gaze, there is only understanding.

This time, he bows, and meets my eyes once more before walking away.

“Goodbye, Nesta.”

I do not breathe again until he is completely out of sight. 

[animeomegas]

Satan flirts with books. He gives us a book recommendation for some novel, he justifies himself by saying that it has a good plot and the love line is not the main thing there, but secretly he dreams that we read this book and fulfill some fantasies from there. Levi only tries to do this with manga or games, but he constantly changes his mind, we end up finding the manga/game ourselves because he threw it away. I think Asmo can do the same only with movies he will take us to the movie and talk about romantic moments like he wants something similar

I love this so much, thank you 🥺

Satan absolutely flirts with books, you're so right. He gives romance book recommendations, and then rereads the same book, imagining you reading it at the same time. He always recommends books where the main couple remind him of you both, and he hopes that you make the same connection. Just imagine him kicking his feet as he reads an ultra romantic scene, imagining you and him in there instead, hoping that you're reading the same part and thinking the same.

Levi always thinks about which characters remind him of you, but he's too shy to say anything 😖 He ends up getting really into specific characters that feel familiar, and he lives vicariously through fanfiction and fan art because he's too scared of rejection to ever make the first move.

Asmo is much more direct than the other two. He'll take you to see a romance film and the whole time he's like "oh! that's so cute, we should do that!" and "they remind me of us, but we're cuter of course 😉". He's laying it on so thick, but because it's Asmo, you might not pick up on the flirting being genuine. Asmo pouts and sulks if you don't take him seriously haha.

[fantasyfantasygames]

Over, Under, Around and Through

Over, Under, Around and Through; Yolanda Divine; 2019

When I was a kid I was very lucky: I lived on the edge of a forest. It was a fairly small one, with paths through it. I could walk through the woods to the local rec center, get to my friend's house, or just spend time pretending I was walking with Ogion (from A Wizard of Earthsea) and appreciating the land.

My family also watched a lot of nature documentaries, since PBS was one of the few channels we could get. I liked vicariously experiencing Antarctica, the Yukon, the Sahara, and the Ring of Fire around the Pacific Ocean.

Over, Under, Around and Through (OUAT) is a solo RPG where you describe visiting all the things you wish you could see and the places you wish you could go when you were a kid. It doesn't have an extensive list of prompts like some solo games. Instead, it gives you a guided path through your own memories. What do you remember doing? Where did you go? What was on the edge of that? If you could have kept going, where would you go? What do you imagine it would smell like? How hot or cold would it be? What would you play on? Would you live there, or keep traveling?

OUAT also has a section on urban explorations - finding abandoned subway tunnels, hidden staircases to the top of skyscrapers, alleyways with spraypainted murals. It has a section about visiting fictional places too. Most of those are more about people - there aren't a lot of descriptions of lands in novels that don't revolve around the people there - so it's often not a perfect fit. You have to be willing to write a little fanfiction. The game recommends bringing a childhood friend (imaginary or real) with you on that kind of journey, so you have someone to experience it with.

The art and layout are, sadly, kind of amateur. The art is all stock photos of places, and their placement in the PDF doesn't line up with anything in particular. It could really benefit from some more avant-garde layout that uses the curves of the sand dunes or the arch of trees in the construction of the page.

OUAT is a little more "exercise" than "game", but it was a fun way to relive bits of my childhood in a positive way. It's a nice way to spend an hour or three. You can find it on Ms. Divine's itch page.

[pro-bee]

Rating: G

Genre: Total Fluff (with a wee dash of bittersweet), team fic

Warnings: alcohol consumption (and karaoke)

Word count: 3,200

Characters: Ziva David, Tony DiNozzo, Eleanor Bishop, Nick Torres, Jack Sloane, Jethro Gibbs... plus basically everyone else

Summary: Take a couple of overworked agents, lots of liquid courage, and a healthy dose of spite, and you get ill-advised public singing.

At some point the MC announces that Karaoke Night has started and their fellow revelers excitedly take the stage. Ellie becomes increasingly unrestrained as the din in the room intensifies, determined to overpower the petty officers belting out “Don’t Stop Believin’” like they are the first to discover the classic. Ziva is impressed with how Delilah is managing Ellie’s frustration, evidently well-versed at this, and she feels a little guilty that she isn’t making more of an effort join in, but she really is so tired. That is, until her seatmate grabs her arm with unreserved zeal, wild-eyed. “We should totally go up!” “We should totally not,” Ziva scoffs, unable to think of anything she’d like to do less right then. “The last time I sang in public I almost got blown up, I do not wish to repeat that experience anytime soon.” Ellie scrunches her nose in confusion, unsure if the alcohol is making her misunderstand, then dismisses the notion and begs whoever will listen. “We have to! It’ll be so much fun! Pleeeaaase?” Ziva shakes her head and puts her hands up to say no way, as Bishop pleads her case that this is exactly what they need to do.

(You know that scene in the season 4 finale where the team are at the bar and having fun like the youngsters they once were? Like that, but less drug addicts trying to murder Tony.)

[kyberblade]

Back To You (Din x Reader) - Part 3

A/N: I had planned on getting all the way to Mos Pelgo, but we didn’t. We’re exploring feelings, and getting some back story between these two. I hope you enjoy it!

(This takes place right where the other one left off and goes right to the first part of episode 2x1/9, The Marshal.)

I do not own Star Wars or it’s characters. Sadly. But I carry them in my heart. Does that count for something? My soul says yes.

Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff, Grogu being the cutest thing you ever did see, and Din is once again a warning in and of himself in this one.

Word count: 5,017

As always, thanks to @grippingbeskar for encouraging me, looking over this for me, and being the one to introduce me to Din fanfiction in the first place, getting me hooked. You are fantastic and I always love our chats.

Previous | Series Masterlist | Next

Xxx

You’d heard of Tatooine, but never been there.

Working in a cantina on a planet that was an intergalactic hub let you see all kinds of people, with vast experiences and knowledge to pass along. True, a lot of it seemed like tall tales spun by drunken lips, which admittedly a large portion of it was, but you still learned a thing or two between glasses of spotchka and embellishments.

If you ever had any questions, you asked Din. He had been almost everywhere, as far as you could tell, and though he always ordered a drink, he never drank it, slipping it instead across the bar to you when no one was looking.

At first you blamed the helmet, and you told him as much. To which he shrugged and responded that he just wanted to keep his wits about him, in case anyone tried anything. You’d always assumed he meant a drunken brawl, or if a patron got too handsy, but after the last few days, you were beginning to understand a little better.

Din would keep you company at the bar, holding it up with all that beskar. He rarely ever sat, but then again, neither did you, as you worked behind the counter. He never really talked about his work, but he talked about where he had been, what he had seen, and it fascinated you. He basically got paid to travel and see the galaxy, and a small part of you envied him for that.

He brought you trinkets after the first few visits, just small little things he thought you’d like, and he nailed it every time. Anyone who came to your apartment would have thought you were extremely well traveled, with this and that from the Outer Rim, and these from Naboo, oh, and that one thing from Corellia.

You smiled fondly as you thought back on all the moments, sitting in the copilot seat to Din’s left in the cockpit of the Razor Crest. Despite Tatooine’s not so great reputation, you weren’t worried at all, because you knew you were going with someone who knew what they were doing. If it had been anyone else, you had no doubt, you’d be out of your mind with anxiety.

The kid sat in the chair to your right, warbling on about something he wanted desperately, hand reaching out and you felt a surge before a small metal ball on top of one of the levers began to unscrew. You watched in silence, eyes wide, biting your lip to not start laughing.

Suddenly the ball flew into his grip with a cry of triumph, making Din jump slightly in surprise, and mutter a curse under his breath.

Turning to glare at the kid, he glanced over to you before starting to turn back, doing a double take. His visor leveled on you, you couldn’t help the smile anymore.

“What’s so funny?” He asked, voice almost annoyed, but the sigh that followed showed he was resigned to the situation.

“Nothing. I’m just thinking about how I never left Coruscant, and now in a matter of just a few days, I’ve already been to several new planets. I’m happy.”

“I don’t know that I’ve ever known someone to be happy to see Tatooine,” he muttered dryly, making you chuckle.

“I’m happy to see anywhere. I’ve lived vicariously through you for years, now I get to put my feet on the ground somewhere instead of just pretending.”

“Well, just stay close to me. So long as you do that, you should have nothing to worry about.” He began to spin back to the front, pausing and turning his head back to face you when you spoke again.

“I’m not worried. As long as you’re here, I’m not worried.”

He stared at you in silence for a long moment. Nothing changed in his posture, not the tilt of a helmet, the twitch of a finger, nothing. And you found yourself wishing for the first time you could just see his face. Was he smiling? Staring? Did you have something on your face?

Finally the moment passed, and he turned back to fully face the front, reaching out to flick a switch as you saw the planet looming through the viewport.

Xxx

You dropped the last few feet of the ladder, landing firmly in the hull. Turning, you almost ran into Din, causing you to stumble back a little bit. He reached out a hand to stabilize you, and you looked at it briefly as it sat on your shoulder. You were so used to him being across a barrier from you that all of this contact stirred up something new in you. It was a feeling you couldn’t quite place, but you knew you wanted more of it.

Glancing down as you cleared your throat, you saw the kid in his satchel, babbling away excitedly. “Well, someone looks happy to see Tatooine,” you said, poking fun at what Din had said earlier.

He let out a soft snort of laughter. “He’s just happy to see a friend.”

The ramp began to lower, and you turned to brace against the wall of heat that rushed in to fill the space.

“I could have done without that,” you muttered, pushing your sleeves up to your elbows.

Din leaned in close to your ear, a snarky voice popping through the modulator. “Welcome to Mos Eisley.”

Following a few paces behind him, you turned from glaring at the back of his helmet to taking in the hanger, seeing a lot of beige, brightness, and parts everywhere. A shorter woman with curls that stuck out in a way that almost made her look crazy but also somehow made her endearing was calling out to some small little pit droids to leave the ship alone.

“You know he doesn’t like droids.”

You raised your eyebrow at him. This was new info.

“May as well let them have at it. The Crest needs a good once over.”

You let out a snort of laughter, hanging your head to examine the ramp when he turned his visor slowly to glare at you, tilted just to the side. You scuffed your shoe just to have something to do.

The tiny woman saved you, drawing his attention back with, “I guess a lot has changed since you were last in Mos E- Oh! Thank the Force!” She let out a cry of glee when Din turned to let her see the satchel, the kid giggling at the sight of his friend as she reached for him. Din helped her get him out of the bag, stepping back to your side where you stood at the base of the ramp looking on with a smile. “Come here, you little womp rat!”

Looking back up at the Mandalorian with a grin you decided you could trust, she turned her gaze onto you, her eyes sparkling playfully, and you were reminded of the child in her arms. No wonder they got along so well. “And who might this be?”

“This is my…. Friend, from Coruscant,” Din said, introducing you.

The woman offered her hand, which you took and shook firmly, returning her smile. “Your friend, eh?”

You chuckled. “Yes, he actually does have one.”

Din cleared his throat, gesturing to you as he went on. “There was an…. Incident, and we had to get her off planet for now.”

You looked up to the side of his helmet, noticing how he wouldn’t look at you, and smirked. Incident. He must really like that word.

“Well, any friend of Mando’s is a friend of mine. Name’s Peli. Ever need anything, just ask.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“I’ve been tasked with returning him to his kind-”

“I meant her, she could ask. You, we need conditions for.”

Din groaned and spoke on a sigh. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

You walked around the hanger while they continued to discuss business, looking at maps and going over details. Hands held behind your back you ambled aimlessly, looking at the various tables and other surfaces covered in various parts for all sorts of things, from household stuff to large ship parts.

You didn’t really know what most of it did, but you knew a thing or two from a mechanic who came into the bar once a week and after a drink or several began to grumble about his customers, complaining about their lack of knowledge. You’d roll your eyes as you turned away to refill his cup, but some of what he said had sunk in, locked away for when necessary.

A hand on your forearm startled you, making you spin around and step back slightly from the source.

“Sorry,” Din said quietly. “We’re going to have to leave the ship here and go by speeder to Mos Pelgo. I assume you don’t know how to drive one?”

You tilted your head back, looking down your nose at him. “That’s presumptuous of you. I grew up on Coruscant. You have to have transport most anywhere.”

“So no?” Din asked after a moment.

“No,” you mumbled, looking over to the droids working on his ship.

“Then I’ll teach you.”

“What?” Your eyes snapped up to his visor, lips a tight line.

He shrugged. “It’s easy. There’s plenty of room, just sit in front of me, I’ll do the shifting and driving for a while, then when we’re out in the desert, away from people and things you can hit, you can try it.”

“Oh, how kind of you to offer,” you said sarcastically, earning a chuckle. “You know, if this goes poorly, and we’re way out there, there’s no one to hear you scream.”

“Is that a threat?” He said playfully, visor tilting to the side as his hands went to rest on his belt.

“You’ll find out,” you drawled, walking towards the speeder.

Climbing onto the bike, you instantly were smooshed forward when he climbed in behind you. You slowly looked over your shoulder at him, eyes narrowed. “Plenty of room, huh?”

“Yeah, for me.”

Rolling your eyes, you turned to face forward, trying to ignore the buzzing sensation from his laugh at your back, the sound leaving his chest and bouncing around what felt like your bones. You blamed it on the beskar, some weird resonance, frequency, or something. But you couldn’t fight the smile it brought to your face, or the shiver that ran down your spine when he leaned forward beside your ear and said just above a whisper, “Hold on.”

Xxx

He drove the first third of the way, and while you really tried, you didn’t pay much attention.

Peli had tossed a pair of goggles to you right before Din sped off, and you had scrambled to get them on before he hit the accelerator. You’d felt him tense up behind you as he adjusted a few controls, and as soon as the goggles were situated, he relaxed and almost molded around you before the world started flying by in streaks of color. It was almost like hyperspace, but brighter, warmer, and little flecks of sand pelted your skin occasionally. Sounds whizzed by you before you could focus on them, mixing into a ruckus underscore to the roaring of the speeder engine.

The further away from town you got, the cleaner the air smelled, and you found yourself taking deep, long breaths, relishing in the feeling you could never achieve back home. Every deep breath pressed your back more firmly into his chest, and you expected some remark from him, but you received none. If anything, he shifted backwards a little bit before pulling you back to rest against his chest again, giving you just an inch or so more breathing room.

After the first stint, he had you put your hands in the proper places on the handles, just to get the feel, and gently placed his over yours to help press the proper buttons and turn the proper gears. You tried to absorb it, you really did, but between the fresh air, the never ending fields of just sand and space instead of congestion and traffic, not to mention his hands over yours stirring up a new sensation you couldn’t put a name to, your mind wasn’t wanting to focus. Well, it was, but not on learning how to drive a speeder.

You glanced over your shoulder to look at the kid in his satchel on the back, his head poking out, ears flapping in the wind and a broad smile on his face.

Glancing to Din, you almost had to look away, the suns glinting off his armor making you squint.

Reaching up one hand, he put a finger on the side of your chin and pushed gently, turning you back to face forward. “Rule number one, always watch where you are going.”

Your eyes darted down to watch his hand come back to cover yours on the handle once again. I’m watching.

Xxx

The suns were setting as you pulled the speeder into a sweeping stop, the child squealing with delight along the long curve, giggling once the movement came to a jerking halt.

You ginned, looking back at Din to see his shoulders rise and fall as he let out a heavy sigh. “It’s a start,” he said finally. He looked back at the kid who had started babbling about something, and you took the moment to just look at him. The twin suns cast brilliant colors on his beskar, his armor reflecting them back with as much luster as it could offer. Light purples, pinks, oranges, and even a little red fading into the deep blue night sky above, sparkling with stars as they began to appear. He was a mirror of his surroundings, and it was no wonder to you that he was so good at what he did, sneaking into places unseen like a shadow.

“You’re alive, aren’t you?” You teased, watching as he turned back to face you again.

“That’s true,” he said thoughtfully, making you snicker.

“The kid is hungry,” he went on to say, his hands leaving yours where they had lingered on the handle bars, before they landed on your hips briefly, and he swung one leg over, jumping off the speeder fully.

You instantly missed his warmth, his calming presence at your back, and leaned forward slightly, away from the cool night air licking at your now exposed back.

“We can make camp here. I’ll get a fire started, then we can eat. After that….” he let out a heavy breath as he hefted a large bag of supplies off the speeder, setting it on the ground before he turned back to face you. “After that, I’m teaching you how to shoot.”

Xxx

“Now, just aim…. Like this….” Din spoke calmly, demonstrating slowly before pulling the trigger, a bolt of light leaving the blaster and sending the empty ration pack from dinner flying off the large rock. You weren’t sure of the distance, but you were sure it didn’t matter to him, he’d hit it regardless. “There. Now you try.”

“I don’t know about this,” you mumbled, shaking your head, looking down to your feet as you walked to where Din was. Bringing your gaze up, you narrowed your eyebrows, looking over at the kid where he stood atop another large rock just to your side. Darting your eyes to the target then back to him, you raised your eyebrows in question, and he tilted his head to express his own. Subtly nodding your head that way for emphasis, the kid looked down range at the targets, then back to you, eyes squinting playfully. You smirked.

Taking aim, you took in a deep breath, letting it out as you quietly said, “Just aim…. And….” Pulling the trigger, you missed the pack splendidly, sand shooting up way past the target where the bolt landed, and Din sighed, stopping short when the pack suddenly flew up and over out of nowhere.

Cocking his head to the side as he stared down range, you turned wide eyes to the kid, slowly shaking your head no to his squeaked ‘eh?’.

“You used the kid?” His voice was incredulous, even through the modulator, his head turning your way in disbelief.

You shrugged. “He helped me out at the fight yesterday, helped me listen in for a little bit. We’re basically partners now….”

“Partners in crime,” Din said sarcastically, hands going to his hips. “Do it again,” he gestured you forward, leaning around you to look pointedly at the kid. “Alone this time.”

“What good is a wizard baby if you can’t….” You could feel the tilt he leveled on you. “Fine, fine. I’m only joking, anyway.” You held up the blaster to aim before muttering, “Kind of.” Closing one eye, you aimed, and pulled, watching the bolt whiz right by a packet, close enough it wiggled. “Ah-ha!” You cried in triumph, turning to look at Din. “I did that while you were looking at me like that.” You nodded toward his still tilted helmet. “I think that’s practically the same as a bullseye.”

“Think again,” he muttered. “Try it one more time, then we’ll take a break.”

Determined, you took aim again, firing, only to miss spectacularly, and hit a rock several feet away from the target.

“We’ll figure it out,” he said, hand rubbing the forehead of his helmet in exasperation, “but let’s stop and think for a minute.” Walking over to the kid, his armor jingling with each step, he scooped him up in his arms, setting him down once he was closer to the fire, before he sat down himself.

Lowering yourself next to him, a few inches between you, you crossed your legs, leaning back on your palms as you stared at the fire.

“How did you train your abilities if the temple burned down?”

You turned your head to look at him, his question catching you off guard. He stayed staring straight ahead at the fire, one leg bent, his elbow resting on it comfortably. The flames reflected in his armor as they danced lazily.

Looking back to the fire, you took a deep breath before answering. “It’s like a muscle. You have to use it to grow, to get stronger. Once I knew what it was, we had to keep quiet because the Empire wanted all Force sensitive people, I’m not sure for what, but I didn’t want to find out.” You saw Din turn his visor your way in your peripherals. “It started with just reading everything I could get my hands on. The temple used to be there and Coruscant has a black market like you wouldn’t believe, so that wasn’t too hard. It’s mindfulness, really.”

You brought your knee up to rest your arm on, mirroring his position as you continued to stare at the fire. “Then, since I was on my own with it, just…. Using it. Small things. Amusing things. Helpful things.”

“Like what?” He seemed genuinely interested, not just moving the conversation along.

“Amusing like…. Tripping the kid who bullied me in school. Helpful like…. Lifting all the chopped vegetables into the pot while I’m doing something else at the same time. Stuff like that. Little things.”

Putting the palm of your hand not resting on your leg flat on the sand, you looked down at it, focusing. You felt the vibrations under the sand of creatures moving deep below the surface. The push and pull of gravity humming along your fingers. The slow rotation of the planet buzzing all around. And with a small smile, you channeled that all into one thing, making grains of sand slowly rise all around the three of you. They sparkled like stars in the firelight, the glow catching them just so.

The kid cooed, and Din took a sharp breath in, his arm jerking back from his knee, his leg slowly lowering to the ground as his head tilted back to look around at the particles.

Sending a swirl the kid’s way, you sent the sand around him circling, spiraling like a galaxy, making him giggle and squint his eyes as he pulled his arms tight like it tickled. Pulling the grains away from him, they assembled together into a mirror image of his face, hovering in front of him. He reached out to touch them with a squeal, and as soon as one claw poked the collection, they shot apart again, moving in a line to swirl around Din’s helmet in a spiral before you let them all fall back to the ground silently.

His helmet turned to face you, and you wanted to think you could read disbelief in his body language. It was almost just shock. But you just smiled while he processed and said, “Stuff like that.”

When silence hung between you for too long, you decided to ask something you had wondered for a while.

“Din, can I ask you a question? It’s going to seem so random, but I have wondered for a long time, and-”

“What is it?” His voice was quiet, kind.

“Why did you even first come into the cantina?”

“What do you mean?” He hesitated a little bit before asking.

“I mean, you never drink anything you buy. At first I blamed your helmet, then you said you wanted to ‘keep your wits about you’, but regardless, why did you even come into a cantina in the first place?”

You stared at the fire with wide eyes, lips drawn in a tight line. You hadn’t meant to ramble, it just came out. You were about to change the subject, tell him to forget it, when he answered plainly.

“I had a meeting.”

“Oh.” You don’t know what you were expecting. It was a perfectly valid answer. Maybe it was just the simplicity of it that caught you off guard, how something so simple had set off a chance meeting of a Mandalorian you’d come to call your friend.

“A contact who knew about a bounty wanted to meet there. They ended up never showing up.” He grunted a bit in frustration. “I ordered the drink for them to try and get on their good side. When it wasn’t going to get drunk, I slid it over to you. I didn’t want to waste it. I was about to leave, but then you said something….” He tilted his head to the side just slightly, as if searching the campsite before him for the answer. “I can’t even remember now, it was so long ago, I just remember you smiled at me, and it was the first time in a while anyone had done anything like that towards me. And I liked it.” He turned his head to look at you, and you could feel the weight of his gaze even through the visor. Once again you hoped you were meeting his eyes with your own, but after a few seconds they dropped back to the fire, unable to hold his stare.

It was the most words you think he had ever said at one time.

“So I stayed.” He turned back to look at the fire like you were, adjusting in his seat so subtly, you almost didn’t notice when he stilled again and was several inches closer to you, leaving only a sliver of space between you. “And I came back.”

“And you came back,” you whispered, feeling a smile tug up your lips. You leaned over and bumped your shoulder into his gently, righting yourself, but staying up against him instead of returning the small space left.

“And the drink, that was just…. Yeah, that was the helmet.” You both laughed softly. “So I would just give it back to you.”

“I figured as much,” you smirked. “Well, I hope one day we’re able to share a drink together. I refuse to let a helmet stand in the way of you getting to enjoy life. So we need to figure something out.” You placed a hand on his forearm, giving it a pat before returning it to your lap.

“We’ll see, cyar'ika,” he said with a chuckle, gently shaking his head. Standing up, he held out his hand for you. “Come on. I want to try something.”

Taking his hand, you stood up, following close behind him.

“I want you to focus like when you did the thing with the sand when you shoot.”

“I don’t know, it takes a lot of concentration, and I haven’t been keeping up with it lately. It can be very draining, as I’m sure you’ve seen with the kid.”

“Just try. For me?” His voice was quiet, and you knew why. He wanted you to be safe. This was his way of helping that process along. “Here, I’ve got you. If it’s too much, I’m right here.” He walked the few steps to stand behind you, chest against your back like before on the speeder. “I’ll catch you.”

Swallowing roughly, you nodded, lifting your arms to aim, stilling when his hands came to rest on your shoulders. “Relax,” he spoke softly by your ear. “You’re too tense, it’ll skew the shot.” His gloved hands slowly slid down your arms, coming to rest around your hands, mirroring your stance exactly. “Breathe.”

“Okay, you try learning to shoot, use the Force, and have your personal space invaded all at the same time and you breathe,” you snarked quietly.

His hands pulled away from you slightly. “Okay. Sorry. I’ll step back.”

“No, no,” you immediately stopped him, stammering, “that’s not what I said.” You licked your lips, adjusting your feet a bit into a stronger stance. “I’m just…. I’m trying.”

His hands came back and you not only heard his low chuckle, but felt it buzzing out of his chest and into you.

The warmth of his embrace helped you focus. He wrapped around you like a blanket, shielding you from everything else. His hands held onto yours just tightly enough to know he was there, and just lightly enough to be maddeningly not enough. You felt the Force flowing through the sand, up through him, and into you. Glancing to the side you saw the child once again up on his rock, watching, his eyes sparkling with mischief, making your lips tilt up in a smirk. Looking back at the targets you relaxed your shoulders down, letting out the tension on a sigh.

The coolness of his beskar was a stark contrast to the rest of him, the rigidity pressing into your spine as everything else molded to you like it was made to.

“Keep both eyes open, and when you’re ready, just pull the trigger.”

His voice was low and steady at your back, calming even. Each word created a vibration that betrayed the processed sound of the modulator, and seemed to bounce around inside you like an echo. It made you feel grounded, safe…. It was the same feeling you got whenever he walked back into your cantina. Or when you’d sit with a cup of tea and stare at the painting he gave you. It felt a lot like coming home.

Aiming at the farthest empty ration pack, you took a deep breath in, let it out, stared down the packet and-

It flew into the air, spinning end over end before landing on the sand with a plop.

You smiled the biggest smile you think you’ve ever had on your face, Din let out a laugh in triumph, and the kid squeaked happily from atop his rock as he looked on.

You turned your head to look at him over your shoulder, voice quiet, but excited. “I did it.”

“I knew you could.” His tone was proud and sounded like he was smiling, too.

You stared at him for a minute, grin turning mischievous. “One more time?”

He laughed softly, gently shaking his head at you playfully as he held you close once again, his visor turned not down the range at the target, but looking at you.

Hitting another packet straight on, you looked up at him again and smiled, finding him already looking down at you. His thumbs began to trace your knuckles, almost absentmindedly, and you wanted to lean into the feeling.

But suddenly everything started to spin, and you just couldn’t keep your eyes open. You felt the world dropping out from underneath you before it was stopped by two strong arms, Din’s hands leaving yours and bringing one arm behind your shoulders, the other catching you under your knees. Walking carefully back, you felt the slight sway of his steps as he went back by the fire, the warmth spreading over your skin the closer you got. Your head rested on his shoulder, and you felt yourself burrowing closer into his neck, the soft material of his shirt much more comfortable than the pauldron under your cheek.

Opening your eyes as much as you could, you saw the front of his throat and the fire in front of you both as he settled down against one of the rocks, leaning back against it with a muffled groan as he got comfortable. “Thank you,” you muttered, adjusting in his hold so that your nose was pressed into his neck.

“Sleep, mesh’la,” he said in a deep, quiet voice.

A blanket was being placed on you where you curled into his lap, and soon you felt the kid inching his way up your leg using the material as leverage. A contented sigh left the little one as he curled into a ball on your lap, and you felt sleep coming faster and faster. Din sighed before relaxing back against the rock, his grip adjusting on you and holding you close. He turned his visor to face you, and the cold feel of beskar against your forehead helped you take the last few steps to rest, the last thing you register was his quiet voice once again as he leaned his head back against the rock. “Sleep.”

Xxx

Tags: @ren-ni​, @hoodedbirdie,​ @rennalouise,​ @kurlyfrasier,​ @what-the-heckin-heck,​ @deceiverofgodss, @littleshadow17, @nghtwngs,​ @djarinmuse, @queenmalhinewahine,​ @lam-ila,​ @jesseeka,​ @come-hell-or-eldren-fire​​ What’s this?

[legit9thlunaticwarrior]

I never gave ideas but hopefully you’ll understand this one😅 Wardlow as a dad where he and the reader are sleeping and their baby starts crying so he get up instead of her.

i saw this comment and fell in love with the concept! i think every wardlow oneshot will be self indulgent in some way. this one in particular bc there’s a big chance i cant have my own kids so why not live vicariously through fanfiction?

|remember to leave feedback and i love all you heathens|

‘Don’t You Ever Grow Up’ Wardlow (Michael) x fem!reader

^Michael has a sweet daddy/daughter moment. that’s all i’m going to say^

- Lua- Roman goddess of the moon - Pseudo sonfic (?) based off ‘Never Grow Up’ by Taylor Swift (yes im a swiftie) - we called pacifiers ‘a pippy’ in my family so that’s the word im using - my sister crochets so i make a slight mention of that. pretend you have a sister - i think he can sing, i feel it in my kneecaps - let’s try this from michael’s pov shall we?

Michael POV:

As soon as I heard the crying over the baby monitor, I was up. Y/N, my wife, had finally fallen asleep after the last wake up call. I saw her shift and groan but I stopped her from getting up, “No baby, I’ll take care of it. Go back to bed.” The little mumbling in her sleep brought a smile to my face as I kissed her head. I made sure not to wake Krypto as I left the room. I threw a muscle shirt on and went to the nursery to check on the three month old. 

The dim setting on the lights was a gift in these situations. As soon as I walked in she reached for me from her crib, “Daddy’s here Lua, no more crying.” I whispered as I picked her up, remembering to take her little Superman plush Y/N’s sister crocheted. Even when she was a day old and we brought her home from the hospital, she hasn’t let that toy go. I checked that she wasn’t hungry and didn’t need to be changed so I looked inside the crib so I could figure out what was wrong. “What’s the matter, princess? Mommy just fed and changed you.” As any father would, I hated to see my babygirl crying. I reached into the crib for her pippy as Y/N called it and when I went to give it to Lua, I pieced together what was wrong: she’s started teething. I remembered the teething rings in the mini fridge in the corner from my mother. She said that it was a good idea to have it there for late night feedings. I grabbed the ring that was shaped like a star and sat in the rocking chair with her. Her tears stopped right when she got the ring. I sat there just staring at this little human I helped make. She had her mother’s eyes and lips, the small amount of hair she had looked like mine, and my nose. She already had little baby versions of our friends and co-workers’ merch, even before we knew what we were having. I never fully understood why people asked me if I wanted a boy or a girl; all I wanted was a healthy baby with the woman I got to make my wife. 

“Lua, when we brought you home and the first night you got to sleep in your castle, Mommy sang you to sleep with the same song she would sing to you almost everyday since we found out about you. Oh she has the most beautiful singing voice but she will never admit it. But Daddy is telling you that as a fact. I know I’m not as good as her or good at all but would you let me sing it to you?” Her coos and little smile told me yes. I started singing the Taylor Swift song I had grown to memorize for the past year:

Oh, darlin', don't you ever grow up Don't you ever grow up Just stay this little Oh, darlin', don't you ever grow up Don't you ever grow up It could stay this simple

Lua’s head turned and she started waving her arms as another voice joined me,

I won't let nobody hurt you Won't let no one break your heart And no one will desert you Just try to never grow up Never grow up

We sang the rest together and when we finished, she asked playfully “Since when do you know all the words to a Taylor Swift song?” “I knew it was special when it became part of your routine. You either sang it, hummed it, or played it. Some of the guys at work noticed me absentmindedly humming it as well.” Seeing her smile makes my heart beat a little faster. “Well I guess it’s good to know that the Wardog can become a Warpuppy when someone mentions his daughter or wife, right?” Lua reached for Y/N so she picked her up “Daddy may look big and scary but he’s really a big softy when it comes to us, huh babygirl?” She joked as she gently bounced from her knees. I guess she caught me watching because she asked “What’s the goofy smile for honey?” I motioned for her to come sit on my lap; she did and I put my arms around her and Lua. “Thank you Y/N.” She looked at me confused. “For what?” “Saying yes to that first date, marrying me, giving me this little peanut.” I told her. “Michael, there is no one else in the galaxy I’d rather do this with.” she said. 

“I love you two.” I said softly. “I love you Michael.” She looks at our daughter, “Lua, say ‘I love you Daddy’“ Lua just giggle and I kissed her cheek then kissed Y/N. We both knew it was time to go back to bed for the infant when she yawned and clung to me. “See you are a human radiator, she thinks so too.” I told Y/N to go back to bed and I’ll put Lua down. She left the room and I kissed my little girl goodnight one more time. Handing her that little plush, “I love you Lua. Sweet dreams princess.” 

~~~~~~~

lovely taglist babes (dm or comment to be added) @josiewrites @rubyred1980 @chrisdickinson @xkennyxomegax

[ooops-i-arted]

If people aren't going to bother understanding what attachments actually are in Jedi culture or try understanding the Asian religions they are inspired by and instead dismiss it? Then they need to just refrain from writing Jedi at all instead of spreading more misinformation. Like how are fans going to even properly analyze and critique the Jedi Order if they don't even know WHAT they're actually critiquing and base their opinions off this fandom playing a long game of telephone? I'm getting really tired of seeing the same discourse of how Jedi discourages emotions like love or sever cultural ties or prevent cultural expression when that's not supported in the original six movies. Also, imagine being that dense to think Grogu's or Reva's trauma was caused by the Jedi order instead of the Empire that genocided their culture or the traffickers that sold Force sensitive people. Clown behavior.

A+ rant, I definitely sympathize. People really do overemphasize the no emotion things when like, it's VERY explicit it's about regulating your emotions. Right in ANH, Luke is missing his Death Star shots until he calms himself down and focuses. My personal favorite is Obi-Wan vs. Maul. Obi-Wan is consumed by grief and anger when Qui-Gon is killed, and almost gets himself killed - until he controls his emotions and is able to kill* Maul. We see him attending a funeral later where he (and other Jedi) are shown mourning Qui-Gon, so it's not like he can't have those feelings. He just isn't allowed to be ruled by those feelings, which, when you have superpowers it's a good thing you're not blindly ruled by emotion. Anakin goes apeshit because he's so ruled by his fear of losing Padme and look how many people die.

*Side note I feel like Maul living is stupid (he was cut in half!) and invalidates this incredibly important moment in Obi-Wan's character development and I will never acknowledge that Maul lived past TPM.

Lol when watching Kenobi, where Anakin is shown murdering children on-screen so explicitly they had to put a content warning (and personally as a teacher I even found it a little triggering/anxiety-inducing) my first thought was still "and Those Certain Fans will still blame the Jedi for this/defend Anakin." Sigh.

I usually just scroll past those discourse posts because well, they're just... irrelevant to me. Sure, I can see why people wanna critique them, because realistically the Jedi could have a lot of issues. But this isn't our world, this is a galaxy far, far away, and George Lucas approached it as mythology/fantasy more than anything. The good guys are good because they're good and are nice and help people. Narratively, that's really all there is to the Jedi. Some people like to go deeper than that, or flip the narrative. Me, it's enough. To each their own.

Plus Star Wars has a very unique approach to children being portrayed as being just as capable as adults. Does it work in the real world? No of course not! It's there because it's what makes Star Wars truly for all ages and enjoyable to all. 11-year-old me wrote fanfiction about my Very Mature 14-year-old Jedi OC being a Super Amazing Awesome Smart Jedi Commander in the Clone Wars because I was 11, 30+-year-old me obviously knows I was an idiot at that age and a 14-year-old kid has no business being in a war but 11-year-old me just enjoyed living vicariously through a story/media that didn't treat me like a dumb kid just for being young. I think adult fans kinda forget that aspect and get hung up in "omg the Jedi treat kids awful" when it's a story that supposed to appeal to kids, that's why you get young heroes and heroines. I loved it as a kid. I saw you got a laser sword and never had to get married, sign me the fuck up, and I've been a diehard Jedi fan ever since.

If someone doesn't like the Jedi, cool, us Jedi fans don't mind that... but please stop ganging up on us and telling us we're terrible. Just let us enjoy the Jedi in peace and we'll let you write your discourse posts in peace. Simple.

[stardustedknuckles]

I've got another dnd character I can't wait to write fanfiction about. He's a halfling farmer boy who raises dragons and teaches them how to survive, and the concept was batted around with me and my group but driven home with my DM when they suggested that my boy raised a couple of clutches of eggs before coming across one that wouldn't hatch. A stillborn, one that still felt all of the care and affection my boy was putting in to its siblings and decided through sheer force of will or other unknown means that it wasn't ready to go beyond. It wanted to stay in some capacity and see what of life it could taste through companionship with my character before it was ready to pass into the cycle. Even a long halfling life is a short dragon life, and though adventuring was never a life my boy sought there is so much life to show his best friend and they're not going to find it all in this same old routine. So off and out he goes, spirit dragon by his side and determined to live a life worth living vicariously for as long as his friend wants to or is able to stay with him.

And since I'm a small race, I'll be able to ride my dragon starting at level seven when it grows to size medium instead of waiting til it gets to large. My inner middle school kid is screaming. We wrote so many stories like this during classes and now I get to play it.

So much to plan. Two names to create, plus any relevant backstory characters. I'm so, so excited.

As a bonus - I got to send my monk off in the last session of this arc in such a perfect way. None of us knew when her original party went into the feywild that the campaign would end there and they would never make it back (within the story we were telling). Thinking this would be a short arc, I swapped characters and accidentally ended the narrative with her left behind and waiting for them. I played her once more during the time she was on the material plane and they were not, and at the end it turned out that the little old lady we helped was a gold dragon in disguise. When my monk looked dejected at the piles of treasure and shinies, it was because it had been weeks without her friends and she didn't even know if they were okay. Granny gave her a mirror to scry on them and when my monk looked visibly happysad (impressive when you're in the form of a small kenku child) she offered to send her right to them.

So that's how her canon story has officially ended. She got time to return to the family that thought her dead for two years, and then she was able to join her friends (including the storm cleric I was playing in that arc) in the feywild and be where she really belonged.

Even though we aren't playing that party anymore and never will again, it felt good and right to send my monk to them as a proper ending for her.

God I love this game.

[spooklore]

Souls and Spirits - Reader x Spencer Reid

A/N: Welcome to my first publicly posted fanfiction in almost 6 years! I wrote this  @imagining-in-the-margins​ ‘s Discord fic swap and it was so much fun to write. Thank you to everyone who helped :) 

SUMMARY: The (season 7) BAU Team is out at a bar after a case rough case and the female bartender catches Spencer's eye and a little more.

CATEGORY: Fluff and soft smut

WORD COUNT: 3.6k

-------------------------------------------------

Spencer POV:

It was a long day, long case, long flight, and now I’m sitting through a long dinner.

I was reciting the words of one of our witnesses over, and over in my mind while the team chatted away. My thoughts were screaming the words of a young woman from our case who had just found out that her boyfriend had killed half a dozen women. While I stood on the other side of the interrogation room’s double sided glass the woman mumbled, “What do you say to someone you thought was your soulmate?” and for some reason it stuck with me more than the previous cases.

I partially snapped back to the table conversation so I could hear Garcia giggle and the rare, but welcome, Hotch laugh overlapping. I looked up to Morgan starting right at me, furrowing his eyebrows. I knew this damned look. He was about to call me out in front of the team. Usually I was good at picking up on the conversation and spitting out my own side of the conversation but I wasn’t quick enough.

“C’mon pretty boy, really? What planet are you on that you’re not even talking about Halloween. I’m the one who should be zoning out over here.” He jokingly scoffed at me, then took a drink from the scotch glass he was holding.

“Sorry, I got caught up in the case.” I laughed and shrugged it off. [elaborate]

Prentiss bumped her elbow into my shoulder since she was the one sitting closest to me. “Let me catch you up. The team. JJ and Hotch are bringing their boys, Sergio isn't invited-”

“Even though I bought him the sweetest pumpkin hat for his tiny little head!” Penelope exclaimed before Emily could finish her sentence. Everyone, including me, just stared at her until we all broke out in a contagious laughter.

“I think he would look quite snazzy, Emily.” I chimed in, flashing Emily a soft smirk. Emily sighed, “I promise I will send a picture to everyone then. I would say the party could be at my place but I’m sure the candy is much better in Rossi’s neighborhood!”

“I’m only giving out candy after everyone has had at least two drinks. It makes everything a little more interesting on the adult side while we admire the fine costumes that come across my porch.” Rossi inserted the plans.

I ran my fingers along the hem of the napkin sitting on my lap. “That sounds like a wonderful time…” I looked up and met eyes with JJ. “As long as Henry’s costume isn't too spooky.”

JJ’s face lit up and she reached her hand out to meet my left hand, which was resting next to my drink, and gave it a squeeze. “Prepare yourself, Spence. It’s going to be the scariest costume yet!”

I gave her a big smile in return before grabbing my drink and giving it a sip. Morgan started talking about some hockey team with Hotch and Garcia while I asked JJ about Will's new job.

We got all of our checks and started quieting down before Rossi announced to us, “I hope you all are able to take care of your checks. But maybe I can take care of your drinks as we migrate to the nearest bar?”

The team let out personal cheers and thank you’s. Once the waitress had brought back our cards and change we all stood and started making our way out of the restaurant.

“Maybe while Aaron and I make our way back home we will find a nice hole in the wall with quiet music and serves a good malt, oh wait. They’ve been run out by those techno and indie bars you all like.” Rossi rolled his eyes before exchanging kisses on the cheeks. Hotch and I exchanged a smile and the two men made their way back to their cars.

Garcia linked arms with Morgan and JJ and put her arm around Emily, leaving me to trail behind the group. They continued their chatter as I followed them down the street. The ladies continued dancing to whichever bar caught their eyes while Derek shot glances back at me to make sure I wasn’t too far behind.

Soon enough Penelope hollered at the group to corral us through the doors of a bustling, neon-lit club. Derek followed me in and placed his hand on my back before whispering in my ear, “You better find someone or else I will.” As if it were a threat.

I sat on a stool and ordered a club soda and lime from the bartender, everyone else chiming in with their orders after mine.

Garcia was settling in next to me while Prentiss, JJ, and Morgan stood with their drinks next to her. I slid in a few comments here and there to let the team know that I wasn’t still entirely thinking about what the victim had said to me earlier that day.

Before I could finish my thought; Garcia grabbed my wrist and used my hand to point in the direction of what could only be described, in her words, as ‘chocolate thunder striking down the dance floor’.

We shared a laugh at the sight of Morgan grinding against three women who were enjoying every moment. JJ and Emily audibly cringed.

“Spence, why don’t you follow him out there?” JJ joked as she nudged my shoulder. Emily giggled as she pushed on the other side of me as she loudly whispered in my ear, “Oh, come on! I need to live vicariously through the youthfulness of being single.”

“You’re not in a relationship, Emily.” I tried to banter but I had to speak over her defensive response, “Actually, Sergio is a cat. Nice try. Why don’t you give the floor a spin.”

“I think the floor is spinning already…” Penelope stuttered while gripping onto her barstool. Emily grabbed Garcia’s shoulders and shouted “Or you’ve been taking the shots that were meant for everybody!” Emily helped Penelope off the chair and started to guide her towards the bathroom.

JJ patted my back as she claimed Garcia’s seat and watched the two ladies stumble away. I sipped my drink, wishing for the bitterness of alcohol but in return feeling the tarte lime hit the back of my throat. I felt so alone in this club that trickled with my friends and coworkers.

There was a female bartender who was working at the other end of the bar who caught my eye. She was shaking a cocktail over her shoulder while laughing. I looked back down at my drink.

The silence I shared with JJ didn’t last long. Morgan was swaying back towards us, shaking the ladies off and leaving them in his wake. “Pretty boy or JJ. One of you better take my hand or I pick who’s dancing with me.” My eyes darted directly over to JJ, whose eyes never locked contact with the man who offered.

“I believe this little lady is long overdue from a night out,” Morgan whisked JJ off her barstool and she giggled and waved to me. I waved back to hear Morgan tell JJ, “Will doesn’t take you out enough does he?”

I stirred my drink as indeed, now I was truly alone. Emily was probably holding back Penelope’s hair and jewelry while JJ and Derek were losing themselves in the sea of bodies. It didn’t distract me from feeling the exhaustion wave over me. I stabbed at the ice and lime at the bottom of my glass with a small black straw.

I zoned in on the noise of the ice clinking against the glass over the irritating, base-heavy club music. The stirring grounded me from the stimulation all around me.

That's when I notice a hand with manicured nails tapping the bar top in front of me.

“Hey, you probably didn't hear me! Want another drink?” I looked up to see the female bartender from before standing right in front of me. She smiled big and shyly I returned it. “I-I’m sorry, yeah. Uh. Yes please. Virgin lime and tonic.” I managed to stutter.

“Are you pregnant? If so congrats! You’re glowing. Coming right up, dear.” The young woman danced around the other bartender to get rid of my old glass and grab a clean one.

I was confused why she thought I was a woman conceiving even though I was a man. I understand that ordering non-alcoholic drinks while at a club with friends seems off putting. Instead of worrying about the topic any longer I shook my head and looked back up at her.

She wiped the glass with the apron around her waist, before chatting up her coworker while building my drink. She had an infectious smile, I had to keep myself from being caught staring.

The bartender leaned over and placed my drink in front of me. “Here’s your drink! My name is Y/N so if you need anything-” Someone put their hand on my back which caused me to jump and spill my drink in front of me and onto the bartender.

JJ laughed and grabbed her drink from earlier and giggled while saying “Nice one, Spence.”

Reader POV:

The club soda and lime wedge had spilled onto my shirt, ice falling into my apron pockets.

“I’m so sorry!” The curly-haired man explained and grabbed the stack of napkins next to me to mop up the eight ounces of liquid.

“It’s okay, I’m always prepared for instances like these.” I joked while taking off my apron and dumping the ice out of the pockets. My mind flooded with emotions. I was frustrated. Why did I have to lean against the bar to get closer to this man I didn’t know. I was annoyed. Now my clothes are wet and I have to go change.

What clouded my mind the most was the image of the blonde woman who touched him so affectionately.

By the time I had set my apron on the table behind the bar I had looked back up at the man who locked eye contact with me. He had soft, hazel eyes that looked at me apologetically.

“I’m going to try to find Morgan again.” The blonde woman patted his shoulder and walked off to the floor.

I looked back down at the wad of sopping wet napkins and started throwing them away.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what got into me. Is there any way I can help you?” He searched my eyes for an answer but something let me know he already knew what I wanted.

“I’m not… sure.” I touched my wet work jeans trying to figure out my plan. I had soaking wet pants, without my apron it looks like I had embarrassingly wet myself.

I caught the man in the corner of my eye glancing, scanning me up and down.

“Well, I could help you get out of those pants?” He stuttered while suggesting, a sly smirk growing on his face.

I tried to hide my blushed cheeks from him but I was intrigued. Anyways it was nearly the end of my shift and I couldn’t care less about this job. Part of me chimed in, the good and moral part of me. Why would you risk this fun and great paying job for a man you just met.

But I’ve never felt a stronger feeling of complete sureness about a person like this before.

I am sure he is my person.

I wiped up my hands and placed them on the bar table in front of me.

“Would you really? That would be great actually.” I looked up and smiled at him. All I saw was this shaggy-haired man with a goofy smile on his face staring straight back at me.

He started to stammer before saying, “Wait… really? I mean I would it’s just… aren't you working?”

I laughed and looked over my shoulder at my coworker and shouted at him. “Hey Mike! Is Peter here yet?” I saw him give me a strong nod. “Guess my cover-” By the time I looked back over at the man who was sitting across from me, the words fell out of my mouth.

He wasn’t there. In his place was left a napkin with writing on it. I grabbed the napkin that was slightly damp and scrawled in pen it read,

Check your apron pocket.

I fumbled for my apron that was hanging to dry over the bar rail. I dug my hands into what I thought were empty pockets and found a business card. It read:

SSA Dr. Spencer Reid - FBI BAU Profiler.

Oh my god, he’s a Fed. I’m guessing a really smart one too. Plus some sort of magician.

I flipped the business card over and there was more writing on it in the same pen.

Meet me out front when you’re done.

My mind was scrambling for how much I wanted to see him. Part of me tried to reason, why would I drop everything for someone's name I had to learn through their business card? The arguably better side of me screamed for him.

I ran to clock out and grab my bag. Mike stopped me as I saw Peter taking over my section of the bar in the corner of my eye.

“Hey, everything alright? If you’re in a hurry you can just grab your tips tomorrow. Text me if you need anything. Have fun out there, kid.” He patted my back and nudged me. “Go get him.”

“Thank you Mike! See ya!” I smiled and waved goodbye to them and started to push through the people. Usually I’d slip through the back door but pushing through people seemed safer than walking through a dark alley alone.

But with an FBI agent, I think I might be safe. I had a really great feeling about it anyways.

I pushed the door and felt the brisk fall wind hit my face as I walked outside. I didn’t care for how cold I was, I was looking for him.

I scanned the streets and saw him standing underneath a street lamp and he looked back at me with the biggest smile. I have to admit that it was quite contagious.

I walked up to him and shined under the street lamp with him. Before I could even say hello he started apologizing.

“I’m really sorry again. I see that you got my note, which is good. I was worried about the pen bleeding from the melting ice.” He chuckled.

“It’s okay! Please, it happens more often than I’d like to admit. I can say I’ve never had such a polite and attractive person spill a drink on me.” I looked down at my shoes in slight embarrassment for being so bold, but hey. When am I not.

“If it took me spilling a drink on you to meet then I’m sure it was worth it.” He caught my attention again, making me laugh.

“I would let you do it again, I mean. Only if I wasn’t wearing my favorite jeans.” I gestured to the slightly wet stain on my black jeans.

He shared my humor and laughed along with me. “I hope I can make it up to you. I’m sure you read the card, but my name is Spencer.”

“I did catch onto that! And my name is-” He cut in and said “Y/N.”

“You have quite the memory! Let me guess, it’s the reason you’re a doctor?” I giggled.

“Yes, but not really a doctor. I have three doctorates though.” He spoke with his hands, justifying his genius-ness.

I nodded and tried not to think about my bachelor’s degree that sat on a shelf collecting dust. “May I ask, were those other FBI agents with you earlier?’

“Yes. It was my team, they’re great. I told them I was leaving anyway.” He shuffled his feet.

Part of me sighed in relief knowing that the blonde woman was just a coworker. I watched him glance over at the door, I’m sure watching out to see if his team would come looking for him. “How about we get out of here?” I grabbed my keys out of my purse.

“I don’t really drive, but we can go back to my apartment if you would like?” He looked back at me with a soft smile.

I told him I would love to drive and we walked back to my car which was just around the block. We were laughing and chatting the entire time, he climbed into the passenger seat of my car and I started the car.

“You can put your address in the GPS.” I looked up at his puzzled face as he stared at the GPS navigation touch screen. “Or I can do it for you if you’re scared of it.”

We shared a laugh before I admitted, “Don’t worry. It kinda scares me too.”

The entirety of the twenty minute ride back to his place felt so… natural. Like we’ve done this a million times before.

He walked me upstairs to his apartment and unlocked the door, letting me in first. I took in the sight of his small library that had taken over his apartment. Before going any further I took my shoes off and placed them right by the door.

“Make yourself at home.” He smiled and walked over to a record player and picked out a vinyl with a worn cover, placed it on the turntable, and set the needle on the record.

I was looking at all of the beautiful books and art as the dulcet sounds of soft jazz filled the deep emerald green walls of his cozy home.

Spencer whisked me around and caught me in his arms. I looked back up into his eyes and adored how his eyes complimented the entirety of his aesthetic.

He moved one of his hands to my lower back as I kept my hands pressed against his chest. “You look beautiful.” He said softly.

“Who knew I’d land a date with a handsome man in my work clothes?” I pawed at the cuff of my t-shirt.

He looked down at his attire, “Well these are my work clothes too.” He gestured with his eyes towards his grey suit.

We laughed as we swayed slightly to the music. I playfully tugged on his tie and stared back into his soft eyes. “Remember how you promised you’d help me out of these?”

“Trust me, Y/N, I would never forget.” He grabbed the back of my head and leaned in.

Spencer’s lips locked onto mine and devolved into a small kiss. My heart was beating fast and before I could clear my head from the euphoria, he guided me towards his room.

His room was cozy and he directed me to lay out on his bed. I got onto his bed and laid out for him. Spencer couldn’t wait to get his hands on me and the feelings were mutual.

I undid my belt and he took over with his much larger hands, undoing the button and unzipping the zipper.

He leaned in and kissed me again as he started to shuffle my pants off. I arched my back to help with the process. He carefully set them on the ground and untied his tie and opened a button on his shirt.

I whined softly as he dragged his hands down my thighs, grabbing the back of his neck and bringing him for another kiss.

His kisses were insanely addictive, I was getting drunk off of his love.

He started to take off his vest and shirt as I took off my own. Spencer’s eyes never left mine or my body. As he pulled off his pants he took a moment to soak in what was laying on his bed.

“Have I told you how beautiful you are?” He spoke in an almost gravely tone. I smiled as my entire body tingled while he climbed on top of me.

His lips dived towards mine and crashed together in a moment of complete unison. I ran my hands through the curls on the back of his head, feeling his hands creep up towards my chest.

Our tongues swirled in dopamine through our heavy breathing. Time felt like it was going by so fast as we discovered each other's bodies. He was thin and slightly sculpted but strong.

He grabbed my hips and brought me down further on the bed to be level with his face. Spencer stopped for a second and looked deep into my eyes. “Is this going too fast?”

I moved my hands from his back to grip the arms that were standing on either side of me. “Only if you think it's going too fast. We don't have to do this tonight.” I looked back into his eyes trying to understand what was going on in his brilliant mind.

“I hope it doesn't bother you, Y/N. You’re still more than welcome to stay.” He softly offered as he laid on the bed next to me.

I rolled over and stared right back into his soft hazel eyes. “Spencer, I hope I’m not speaking too quickly, but we have the rest of our lives to enjoy more moments like these.”

He cupped my face with his hands and kissed me on the forehead. I closed my eyes and heard him whisper,

What do I say to someone who is my soulmate?

------------

[mariaiscrafting]

I’m the anon about fanfic and fanart. I just want to say that I’m fine with analysis when they talk about how dnf react to each other when they say or do something but don’t really like how they bring that point into their relationship. It’s one thing to me to say they have a flirty friendship but insisting that they have something more in private bothers me. I always thought that fanfiction and fanart are ways to analyze creators or dynamics so I was curious on what you thought of them. Fans always project things onto creators they like so they make things arolving them. I know you’re worried about how this can strain the content creators and other fandoms, but establishing boundaries is important and it was already addressed by the Dream Team themselves so I don’t see why you have to go out of your way to tell dnf shippers to not to analyze them. I’m not here to hate you but wanting to understand how making a call out post to tell dnf shippers to not to psychoanalizing interactions instead of trying to put more of a distance between yourself and the blogs without putting them down. On Twitter, there was a tweet that misinterpreted Dream and George’s first meeting and Dream corrected them but never condemned them for shipping. He also said in many tweets and said in stream that just how they are and said that fans are allowed to do what they want when it comes to them. Also liking a fan tweet where #Dreamfell was dnf related even though the situation didn’t need to be. Twitter is directly involved with the creators themselves so of course it’s hard to ignore. Even then in Twitter you can still mute words. I’m here for a conversation and not out hate. This is Tumblr where it’s mostly Fandom focused and some dnf shippers like to analyze to project whatever onto them so if we don’t want to see it, asking for a tag so you can block it here. Like #dng long post or just block the analysis tag. We’re all responsible to create our own fandom experience so I don’t want to call fans disgusting when they haven’t done anything wrong since Dream had stated He’s fine with it. I don’t want you to feel excluded in the dnf side of Tumblr since you still find the ship nice, but if you don’t want the long analysis posts since it feels morally wrong to you then we can try to agree on separating the casual and the analytical side of dnf. Your feelings towards dnf blog analysises are valid so your fandom experience should be catered to.

I am actually half delirious while answering this, so Imma keep it short and simple.

I do cater my own tumblr experience to what I want. I do block people who post stuff I don't like so I don't see it in the tags. All your advice is nice, but unnecessary.

I think that I should be allowed to criticize circles that I am in in the hopes that they will approve and shift what they consider the norm. Yes, Dream said that he is okay with shipping and has engaged with it and panders to the audience with it. But to take anyone's green light on any issue involving their personal lives, and to run rampantly with it is still fucked.

And look, I don't think I've properly articulated why I call this behavior disgusting. I want to emphasize that I view it as dehumanizing. To reduce a person's behaviors and tendencies to whatever vicarious romantic gratification you can get from them is an appalling act, devoid of empathy. It exemplifies the commodification of CCs for the audience's sole entertainment and that audience's lack of basic respect for them or acknowledgement that they are real life human beings who function beyond whatever romantic framework you fantasize them in. I keep bringing up this example, I know, but it's what incited this whole discourse for me in the first place, but that analysis of Dream's few seconds of silence as him focusing on George's voice because he's just so in love with him? That analysis, and the overwhelming consensus on that post perfectly exemplify just how dehumanizing this crossing of a line can be. It erases the conceptual space for any other, rational and non-romantic explanation for a few seconds of silence that could have easily been attributed to distraction, a moment to collect his thoughts, etc. It also perfectly exemplifies how, through the overanalysis, shippers force CCs into two-dimensional boxes that best fit their wants, devoid of nuance. In this instance, Dream is not a busy content creator who hasn't streamed very often for the past few months and might be readjusting to consistently talking in front of a live audience, or a young adult with ADHD whose brain jumps from point to point in its search for dopamine, or literally any other kind of human being with multiple characteristics and personality traits influencing his behaviors; he is a prop for our self-idulgent ship. I'm reading way too much into this one example, I know, but I just want to also say that this is like a much higher problem than just one post. I don't care about the content of one fucking post, I care about what that post and the methods of analysis employ imply about the rest of dnf shippers. This community is following behaviors that are concerning, and this is just one example of hundreds that exemplify that.

Projection is fine. Projection is employed in RPF fanfictions, character headcanons, different fanart styles - it's all over the mcyt fandom and I don't have a problem with it. My PROBLEM is with people who act like their analyses of Dream and George and literally any other content creator are actually representative of reality. My problem is with people who don't understand that there is a difference between stanning and creating/consuming fan content for a creator's persona, and theorizing about what that creator's actual character as a real life human being is.

Okay, also, I might just be getting more irritable because it's 2 am and I want to be asleep, but I actually do have a problem with you essentially saying that a preferred solution for me is to simply cut myself off from half the community. Basically, I should just plug my ears and shield my eyes if I see problematic content I am morally against? Fuck off, mate. There are many, many things I choose not to start discourse on and simply block or mute because I don't care enough to try and change it. But dnf shipping is something that I actively engage with, is kind of a significant part of my online presence and experience, and also a way I've made a lot of friends in this community. So yeah, I have a vested interest in making sure it doesn't go down the same, fucked paths I've seen other shipping communities go down, and if that means making a discourse post that makes you uncomfortable, I suggest you block me.

I'm not advocating for this fandom to partition up based on what we all think is right and wrong. I want integration of different ideas, useful discourse, and self-growth. And none of that is solved by creating a separate hashtag

[solastia]

Dear Authornim | 2

Pairing: Kim Seokjin x Reader

Word Count: 1,862

Summary: You’re a writer of BTS fanfiction. rockstarjin is your favorite reader that you’ve actually come to be friends with…and maybe had a bit of a crush on if you were honest. You’re up for quite the surprise.

Warnings: Not really much this chapter. Single instance of the word whore, but no one was calling someone that. It was just a comment. Semi-vague sort of sexting (you’ll see). 

Notes: I might make a separate chapter after this is done - like a bonus type thing - featuring some comments from rockstarjin, if you guys are interested. I wasn’t sure if everyone would want to see them or if they’d bore you, so I kinda glossed over that. Let me know if that’s something you’d want! Commissioned by @kimseokmomjins

Being a writer - even if it’s simply for fanfiction - you take comments and reviews very seriously. A good comment or review can lift your spirits and leave you smiling for a whole day. A negative comment often leaves you questioning everything and going over your chapters with a fine-tooth comb. The rare unicorns were the readers that took the time to leave long and detailed comments, stating exactly what they liked and disliked about the latest chapter. Many of these were filled with valuable suggestions and helped you decide the path that your stories would take. 

One such unicorn was named rockstarjin, a reader that had been following your work for nearly a year now. His first comment had practically been drabble-sized, and had covered everything from his enjoyment over how realistically you characterized Kim Seokjin to how he was certain he would never use the “W” word (he literally typed out “W” word instead of whore, something you still teased him over to this day). 

That first review of his was only one of many. He took the time to give detailed reviews on every single chapter you posted until you discovered that in your head you were practically writing for him. It had even gotten to the point where several of your stories were ideas that the two of you had chatted about on tumblr for months, working through every detail. He still seemed a little iffy on the smut, but he’d gotten you to consider the idea of writing Seokjin as “Less aggressive” in the bedroom. 

Your friendship had grown until you were now friends on practically every social media app - nevermind that his profiles were always suspiciously void of personal information. The more that you talked to “Rocky” (you started calling him that months ago since he didn’t seem excited about telling anyone his name, though he knew yours), the more you looked forward to interacting with him. 

You couldn’t even explain really why you were getting so attached to some blank face behind the screen. You didn’t even know all that much about the real him, just small observations from chats. Like, you knew that he seemed similar to Seokjin in a lot of ways, which is probably why he claimed him as a bias. 

Rocky was very fond of puns and dad jokes, often sending you one first thing in the morning on KKT instead of a hello or good morning like a normal person. This morning it was, “Why did the tomato turn red? Because it saw the salad dressing.” You were ashamed that they always made you laugh at least a little bit, but it made you happy that one of the first things he thought to do in the morning was send you something. 

He was also fond of talking to you about food and recipes, acting affronted whenever you mentioned not knowing what something was. He would literally bully you into going to the grocery store and buying the ingredients he’d list out, demanding pictures of the final product like he was Gordon Ramsey. You had to admit he had good taste in food, even if you didn’t think your cooking skills were quite on par with his. It sometimes made you wonder if he was a chef, but the one time you’d brought it up he’d claimed to be too damn tired to cook and was living vicariously through you. Of course, that led to you asking what he did that got him so tired and he gave you another vague answer, stating he was in entertainment. Whatever the hell that meant. 

It bothered you sometimes that even after all this time he was disinclined to tell you anything, but you couldn’t help it as your feelings slowly evolved from those of friendship to...well, something more. You were a little hesitant to use the L word, considering you only knew what he wanted you to know, but you definitely had a crush at least. Not surprising considering he seemed to be everything you were looking for. He was considerate and compassionate, funny, creative, and so many other things. However, the fact that he was so very loud and proud about his love for Seokjin made you avoid looking at your feelings too closely. Because while you were over here pining for him, the only person that praised Seokjin more than Rocky was Kim Seokjin himself. And that could mean any number of things. 

Even when he helped you with smut ideas he got you excited. He had slowly gotten you to lean away from always writing Seokjin as some powerful dom - something your other readers had begun to notice and comment on - and now most of your scenes had him as being the more submissive one. He seemed to like it best when the main character was more of a soft dom, willing to take charge and take care of Seokjin. Rocky claimed that a man like Seokjin who was always working hard and worrying about one thing or another would relish the idea of being taken care of. You had to admit it made sense. 

You sigh and glance at your phone again, noting the lack of notifications. Your morning pun was the last you’d heard from Rocky today, something that had been happening for a few days now. Considering BTS was on tour right now, you’d expected a lot more messages about how he thought Seokjin was especially handsome today. Instead, for almost a week it had been nothing but your morning jokes and once he sent you a picture of his fancy looking dinner complaining about the portion size. You were beginning to really miss him, but you figured he must be busy. 

You wanted to scream with him today, considering BTS was finally going to be in your city in a couple days. You’d bought the tickets months ago, and Rocky had even convinced you to get pit tickets, something you never do because it’s basically a gladiator stadium up there. You were currently waiting for one of the boys to show up on vlive since the last concert before they traveled to your city had just finished a bit ago. It had been a fantastic show and Seokjin had looked as beautiful as always. You hoped he would be the one to go live, but that was rare unless he was with another member. 

Suddenly, your phone beeps and shows a message on KKT. 

Rocky: Kill me

You smile widely, excited flutters starting in your belly. It was ridiculous how pleased you got just to hear from him. 

You: Is there an option B? 

Rocky: We could run away and start a new life on a deserted island. Our descendants will become known as the most beautiful people on the planet. 

You blush and force yourself to cough to cover up the giggle that threatened to escape. 

You: Is that so? 

Rocky: Naturally. They all take after me, of course. 

You: Of course. 

You: What brought this on? 

Rocky: I’m so damn tired. My body hurts and I just want to sleep for a week. 

You: Oh no! Do you have time to soak in the bath? Epsom salt works wonders.

Rocky: I’ll be able to soak later. Right now I’m just forcing myself to stay awake long enough to eat. I feel like a zombie. 

Rocky: Hey, why did the zombie cross the road?

You: Why? 

Rocky: TO EAT THE CHICKEN 🤣

You: 🤭 

You: Really though, take care of yourself. I don’t want you getting sick on me. 

Rocky: How would you take care of me?

You gasped, peering hard at the phone. This was new. Of course, you could be reading this the wrong way, and he’s simply asking to ask. 

You: Depends. Are you asking for tips or in the white boy “What would you do if I was there with you” way?

Rocky: Let’s try it this way. Say I’m Kim Seokjin. I’m tired and hurting after another long night of performing. You’re waiting for me in my hotel room. How would you take care of Jin?

You: Omigosh, are you voluntarily helping with a smut scene? 

Rocky: Sure 

You: Ok, let's see. This scene can’t get too crazy if he’s tired like that. I think mostly I would focus on his comfort. 

So, he’d show up and I’d already have a bath waiting and food on the way. Maybe some aromatherapy candles are lit and some quiet instrumentals in the background. I’d let him soak until the food got there, hang out in the bathroom with him and let him vent to me if he wanted. 

After his meal, I would put a towel on the bed and have him lay on top so I could rub him down with massage oil. Naked, of course ;) 

I’m sure he gets it from professionals, but I think he’d appreciate it right after a concert and bath. 

Then, it would just depend on what kind of story it was. I could either rub him down like that until he falls asleep, or it could go the smut way. There are lots of options for that too depending on the story. I could give him a handjob while I talk sweetly to him, I could ride him and tease him, maybe peg him if he’s into that. Anything that would keep him soft and pliant, because the goal is to get him comfortable and happy. To show him he can just let go with me, let me be in charge of his pleasure. Show him he’s loved and cherished.  

Rocky: Fuck

You: Too much? 🙊 

Rocky: No

The phone was silent for a whole two minutes. Surely he’d heard worse from you, so you didn’t think you’d freaked him out or something. When another message came in you breathed a sigh of relief. 

Rocky: So, I’m gonna be in your city for the concert

You: No shit?! I can suggest so many great places for you to eat!!!

You: Or if you wanted, we could meet up? No pressure and I totally won’t be offended if you don’t want to. Stranger danger and all that. 

Rocky: You know what

Rocky: Let’s meet

[incorrectly-quoted-queers]

A Room Full of Vampires

A Drawfee Fanfiction

John’s sister was the lamest best friend he ever had. 

They had planned to go to the movies for a week now, after months of John begging her to go with him. She only caved because this double feature landed on his birthday, and he promised she’d get out of buying him a gift if she went. 

Cheapskate she was, Ava readily agreed. 

For the past few days, he’d been so excited about it. He planned on going all out at the snack bar, he’d bring a blanket, the works. It would be like when they were kids and they used to watch movies in blanket forts when their parents went on dates. 

Considering John’s birthday last year was the worst thing that happened to him, he deserved to have some serious nostalgic fun on this one. 

But that morning, when he woke up to only one text, all it said was a weak apology that she couldn’t make it because her boyfriend had a work event. Then about twenty minutes later she added a proper, “Happy Birthday”. 

Cool. First birthday single in ten years and not even his sister wanted to spend the day with him. It was fine. 

Totally fine. 

However, when it was 7 pm and John hadn’t left his house and had totally demolished a pint of red velvet ice cream, he concluded that maybe it wasn’t fine. 

By the time the first movie of his fantasized double feature was almost over, John was pretty damn sick of staring down the liter of Mountain Dew and feeling sorry for himself. He looked in the mirror. Sure his hair was a mess and he still was wearing yesterday’s clothes, but he was a perfectly capable 26-year-old man. If he wanted to go to the movies on his birthday, he could go all by himself, dammit. 

Feeling a surge of self-confidence (possibly fueled by his energy drink overdose) he vibed with the electricity running under his skin. That’s right. He was an averagely attractive, somewhat active, not dead human. He could go out and do anything!

Granted, he couldn’t fly. He caught himself a taxi the second he got outside. He wasn’t an animal. 

When he reached the theater, the box office was derelict, save an arguing couple buying tickets. In the dark night, the platinum blonde, with arguably fabulous long hair, glistened under the bright lights. The duo looked a lot fancier than him, but sometimes people cosplayed to the theaters, so that’s what he figured was going on. Since the second feature was Cats, maybe they just really liked musicals and wanted to get their Phantom of the Opera on. He just sorta shrugged it off and waited for them to be done. 

But their bickering was pretty interesting. “Bertrand, we were supposed to go to an elaborate dinner tonight. But instead, you stayed at work late, missed our reservations, and you’re trying to make it up to me by taking me to a half-finished theater event? I’m not a dog, your scraps aren’t enough for me.”

“Bastian, I am trying to make it up to you. You love Cats. You’ve always loved Cats. You loved Cats before it even was on Broadway. This should be a fun substitute.”

“Well, maybe I wanted to see Sonic the Hedgedog, too.”

“It’s hedgehog, love.”

“Whatever.” The blonde, named Bastian, crossed his arms and stared at the movie posters, waiting for Bertrand to finish paying. 

While John loved himself a good drama, the awkwardness of hearing a couple argue also made him want to shrivel up inside and die. On a normal day, that would’ve been enough to make him go home. 

But not today.

Today was his birthday and he was going to see a movie, dammit. 

After the way-too-fashionable men walked away, John walked up to the dead-eyed teenager. “One for the double feature.”

“What is up with you people, coming half-way through the show?”

He didn’t mean to, but John bristled from the inside out. Caffeine rage was no joke. “I am an adult and I live my life in a way that makes me happy. I look like a happy man, don’t I?”

“I don’t think I wanna answer that.” Handing over his tickets, the teen grimaced. “Enjoy the show, dude.”

John didn’t mean to get so rattled, so he gave the guy an awkward wave and hoped that he never met him again. 

Okay, all the chaos had to be over now. He was going to walk into that theater, enjoy this damned movie, and prove that he was perfectly fine on his own. He didn’t need Ava or Stacy or anyone to make his birthday a good one. He was a 26-year-old man and--

Just as John pushed the doors to the theater open, he saw the couple from before standing in front of all the aisles, accompanied by two other oddly dressed men, four children, a bat, and a dog with...Wings?

Though John had been pumping his arms pretty intently, a man on a mission, he stopped dead. 

All the way down the aisles, Bertrand said, “So that’s why I knew this double feature was happening.”

Behind the kids, the guy with a big cloak threw open his arms and yelled, “Boo!” They all jumped and squealed, but then threw themselves into his arms. 

By all accounts, that should’ve been more than enough for John to leave. There was also a fair shot that, unless he was absolutely losing his mind, he might’ve just walked into a roomful of vampires. Or vampire cosplayers, at the very least, which wouldn’t be the strangest thing he walked in on. After all, nothing would ever beat Stacy getting bent over by a guy in a Teletubby costume. 

He still had no clue what the guy’s face even looked like. 

Cringing, John instead focused on watching the bizarre, but obviously happy family banter, hug, and bicker. Even the angry couple still obviously was very much in love with each other. Though he could hear Bastian’s petty comments all the way up the stairs, the guy kept making sure Bertrand never stepped on his own cloak. It was horribly sweet, even if it made him feel so much more alone. 

Sitting down, he accepted that his night couldn’t get any weirder, so he might as well accept it. 

The parents of the kids walked over to Bertrand and Bastian. The one who looked like he got hair tips from Doc Brown was patting Bertrand on the head. “So happy to have my older brother show up to our family outing!”

“It wasn’t on purpose, Victor.” 

The shorter, more cartoonish guy shrugged. “Either way, Valentino and I are happy to see you. And so are the kids! Desdemona has been dying to see her “shiny-headed uncle”.” 

“Balding is a completely natural part of the male aging process. I just unfortunately got stuck in the middle of it.” 

Just as Victor opened his mouth, the lights dimmed. “Ooh! Time for the movie to start. Sit with us!” 

Bastian patted Bertrand’s shoulder and he did this deep sigh, but he did it with such ease that it must be muscle memory from years of annoyance. John remembered when he and Ava used to have tics like that. They texted every other day, but the last time he saw her in person had to be months ago. 

He didn’t even know what color her hair was right now. Knowing her, it probably changed a few times since the purple he saw last. 

Even though Cats started up, and the CGI was a disturbing kind of mesmerizing, John couldn’t keep his eyes off the family in the first few rows. The way Bastian and Bertrand held each other’s sleeves was endearing. The little girl next to Bertrand kept leaning over and asking him questions, but no matter how tense he looked, it seemed like he always answered them. And while he didn’t quite understand what was happening, the one named Valentino held the tiny bat like it was a sweet, sleepy toddler. 

His chest started to hurt, looking at them, but he also couldn’t look away. Vampire cosplayers or whatever, they were family. It made his own fingers feel so cold, so empty and killed his Mountain Dew buzz completely. 

John looked to his own left and right and wondered how long it’d been since he got used to being alone. Those last few months with Stacy weren’t the best, and Ava drifted when--

Looking down at Victor and Valentino giggling and covering their kids’ eyes when the Cats were a little too sensual, he knew what the answer was: Ava had been distant since they lost their own version of those two. 

When Ava and John’s parents died, it had been so sudden. Before that, they spent so much time together. Ava was his best friend, over at his apartment every few days for ramen or advice or to make him try out some new recipe she had. Mom and Dad would take them to farmer’s markets and book drives, supporting their dreams in their own, weird ways. And they all used to really love mini golf, no matter how dumb that was. 

He couldn't remember the last time Ava stopped by his book store, even just to say hi.

Maybe he had a lot more going on than just being lonely; maybe Ava did, too. 

Before John could really register what was going on, the lights were coming up and it felt like his heart was being torn out of his chest. His cheeks got wet and his lungs got so full of loneliness that they didn’t know they were a pair. He didn’t want it to end. He wanted to stay in this dark theater, living vicariously through this vampire family a little longer. 

But crying in a near-empty movie theater doesn’t go unnoticed for long. “Um, sir? Are you okay?” The one named Victor was suddenly in front of him, touching his shoulder, with these kind, however dark and kinda creepy, eyes. 

If this was a normal day, John would smile and play it off.

But today was his birthday, dammit. 

Shaking his head, John said, ‘No.” 

Behind him, the entire vampire family had pooled, all looking at him with their own dark, kinda creepy eyes. John wasn’t really in a place to judge, though, considering his were probably all puffy. 

Victor asked, “Mind if I ask what it’s about?”

“You all are just a really beautiful family.” John sniffled and tried to rub away as many tears as he could. While the honesty felt nice, there was only so much shamelessness his very embarrassing soul could handle. “I think I got a little jealous.”

“Well, if you want, you can come join us for midnight mini-golf. The night has just started for us, and it’s our little girl’s birthday. The more the merrier.”

John couldn’t help but laugh. “Mine, too.”

“Even better!” Victor stood up and offered John a hand. He took it. 

As they passed the rest of the group, Valentino was rounding up the kids, Bastian was knuckling away a tear, and Bertrand was frowning. But it was the kind of way someone frowned when they knew they were about to be forced to enjoy something that they totally would enjoy, but hated to admit it. 

With a knowing smirk, Victor asked, “Coming to mini-golf, Bertrand? It’s Desi and this young man’s birthday, after all.”

Bastian added, “I won’t be so completely annoyed with you anymore if we do.” 

Bertrand scoffed in defeat. “Fine.”

And then John followed the roomful of vampires to mini-golf, and chose to actively ignore the fact none of their reflections showed up in any of the water features and the liquid in their water bottles was red. It was easier to focus on the way they all smiled together under the moonlight. 

Tonight was his birthday, and he was going to enjoy it with a real, live family (sort of). 

He’d call Ava in the morning. They had a lot to talk about.

[writing-prompts-for-friends]

Notes on Robert McKee’s “Story” 20: How to Write Authentic, Unique Characters

We can all recall characters that we love, that we relate to, whose actions are different from everyone else’s, but perfectly fit who they are. As a fanfiction writer and consumer, I understand keenly that there is nothing the reader hates more than when a character is “out of character.” Yet as a writer of original works, I find myself struggling to create characters that are each their own unique person, whose actions and reactions are individual and fitting. 

Today’s section has given me great insight into this issue that has been plaguing me for years.

Writing from the Inside Out

McKee states that it is paramount that we find our way to the center of each character and experience every event from their point of view. We can stay on the outside and observe their habits, their ticks, their behaviors, and create an intriguing characterization. But this will not lead us to true character, who this person is when we peel back all the layers. The only way we can understand their true character is to get inside them, watch the story’s world through their eyes, and ultimately gain their emotional truth.

“The only reliable source of emotional truth is yourself. If you stay outside your characters, you inevitably write emotional cliches. To create revealing human reactions, you must not only get inside your character, but get inside yourself. So, how to do this? How, as you sit at your desk, do you crawl inside the head of your character to feel your heart pounding, your palms sweating, a knot in your belly, tears in your eyes, laughter in your heart, sexual arousal, anger, outrage, compassion, sadness, joy, or any of the uncountable responses along the spectrum of human emotion?

You’ve determined that a certain event must take place in your story, a situation to be progressed and turned. How to write a scene of insightful emotions? You could ask: How should someone take this action? But that leads to cliches and moralizing. Or you could ask: How might someone do this? But that leads to writing “cute”--clever but dishonest. Or: If my character were in these circumstances, what would he do?” But that puts you at a distance, picturing your character walking the stage of his life, guessing at his emotions, and guesses are invariably cliches. Or you could ask: “If I were in these circumstances, what would I do?” As this question plays on your imagination, it may start your heart pounding, but obviously you’re not the character. Although it may be an honest emotion for you, your character might do the reverse. So what do you do?

You ask: “If I were this character in these circumstances, what would I do?” ... It is no accident that many of the greatest playwrights from Euripides to Shakespeare to Pinter, and screenwriters from D. W. Griffith to Ruth Gordon to John Sayles were also actors. Writers are improvisationalists who perform sitting at their word processors, pacing their rooms, acting all their characters: man, woman, child, monster. We act in imagination until honest, character-specific emotions flow in our blood. When a scene is emotionally meaningful to us, we can trust that it’ll be meaningful to the audience. By creating work that moves us, we move them.”

I feel really bad every time I shamelessly quote such a large chunk of text like this, but I love McKee’s wording too much to change it. This. This is what I have needed to hear for years now. This entire time, I have been asking myself the wrong questions. 

Creating Within the Gap

The gap, as was defined in my previous post, is the difference between the outcome that the character expects, and the actual outcome when he acts to obtain his desire. 

Now we are in our characters’ heads. And not only are we in the head of one character; we must be able to flit between all characters in the scene. 

The writer’s next question is: How to progress the scene?

What action does the character take? What outcome does he expect? But we must not give him what he expects--instead, we must open the gap. To do so, we step back and ask ourselves, “What is the opposite of what he expects?”

“Writers are by instinct dialectal thinkers. As Jean Cocteau said, ‘The spirit of creation is the spirit of contradiction--the breakthrough of appearances toward an unknown reality.’ You must doubt appearances and seek the opposite of the obvious. Don’t skim the surface, taking things at face value. Rather, peel back the skin of life to find the hidden, the unexpected, the seemingly inappropriate--in other words, the truth. And you will find your truth in the gap.”

Fine Writing Emphasizes Reactions

gasps in telenovela

Let’s face it, a lot of the actions in any story are expected. The lovers in a Love Story will meet. A police officer discovers a clue in a Crime Story. The audience anticipates them, and there is no getting around these genre conventions. So how can we make our jaded audience react anew? 

“Fine writing puts less stress on what happens than on to whom it happens and why and how it happens. Indeed, the richest and most satisfying pleasures of all are found in stories that focus on the reactions that events cause and the insights gained.”

Even in the quietest, most internalized scenes, a dynamic series of action/reaction/gap, renewed action/ surprising reaction/gap builds the scene to and around its Turning Point as reactions amaze and fascinate. 

Once you have a scene in your mind, complete with its beats and gaps, start writing it. You write so that when it is read by someone else, they will, beat by beat, gap by gap, live through the roller coaster of life that you lived through at your desk. 

The Substance and Energy of Story

At the beginning of this chapter, McKee asks, “What is the substance of story? What do we mold and hew to create a tale?” The answer is not “words.” They are just a means to an end. 

“The substance of story is the gap that splits open between what a human being expects to happen when he takes an action and what really does happen; the rift between expectation and result, probability and necessity. To build a scene, we constantly break open these breaches in reality.

As to the source of energy in the story, the answer is the same: the gap. The audience empathizes with the character, vicariously seeking his desire. It more or less expects the world to react the way the character expects. When the gap opens up for character, it opens up for audience. This is the “Oh my God!” moment, the “Oh no!” or “Oh yes!” you’ve experienced again and again in well-crafted stories.

...

As a charge of electricity leaps from pole to pole in a magnet, so the spark of life ignites across the gap between the self and reality. With this flash of energy we ignite the power of story and move the heart of the audience.”

 A well-told story isn’t made by beautiful prose or witty dialogue. It’s made by cracking open the world we think we know to reveal the truth beneath it. And if we can do that, we’ve done well.

Source: McKee, Robert. Story: Substance, Structure, Style, and the Principles of Screenwriting. York: Methuen, 1998. Print

[theyaskedmeto]

i was tagged by @klainetrashnumberone (thank you!!!)

rules : spell your url with song titles and tag 10 people.

Tomorrow never came by lana del rey

Happy by pharrel williams

Everyday from hsm 2 (i fucking LOVE high school musical)

Yayo by lana del rey

Apricot princess by rex orange county

Somewhere only we know from glee bc i can’t remember who its actually by

Kiwi by harry styles

Everything has changed by taylor swift and ed sheeran

Daydream believer from glee :,(( this makes me cry because klaine’s last song

Me by taylor swift

Ever since new york by harry styles

Television/so far so good by rex orange county

Only angel by harry styles

(i have discovered that literally no pop songs begin with e the FUCK)

quarantine asks

where are you isolated ??

at home with my family :)

what are you currently reading or watching ??

reading - ATOG by rainjoy, and kind of reading love, secret santa by S.A domingo but not really bc its a real book and i’m addicted to reading fanfics oops

watching - glee (even though its finished i’ll always go back to it), rewatching arrested development, started briefly watching never have i ever but need to finish it tbh

if you can go outside, what do you like to do during this time ??

honestly??? the same thing LMAO... or going to the cinema... i miss the cinema so much tbh (that sounds like a gcse languages exam lmao but honestly i’m a more introverted person) 

any fascinating concept you’re studying ??

fucking... working out how to conjure up the motivation to go on a walk????? or actually do any for a levels????? studying the best way to sit on my bed for hours??? bitch i am literally doing n o t h i n g... although i did make cake pops a few days ago and they were sexy,,,, also writing oneshots lmao i guess that’s educational... kinda????? 

what kind of acts of creativity / forms of art are you currently doing ??

1. baking a shit tone of cake (ngl i’m pretty good at cake decorating not to blow my own trumpet)

2. writing fics (and then trying to cover the fact i’m actually doing work instead of writing klaine fanfiction) 

3. i painted...once during this lockdown

4. sitting on my bed and reading fics... this is actually good though i guess?

5. singing DROMP like rachel berry (and failing... i mean i can sing but not like that LOL)

a song that resonates with your state of mind at the moment ??

fine line by harry styles

favourite impulsive / “bad” coping techniques ??

reading fluffy klaine oneshots instead of doing work so i can live vicariously through a fake couple’s love life, eating a shit ton of crisps, making milkshakes

favourite healthy / “good” coping techniques ??

hanging out with my cat zeppelin, reading fics as well (i mean its bad but its also good amirite), baking more cake

rules: bold everything that applies to you & tag some people you’d like to get to know better.

A P P E A R A N C E

I’m over 5′5″. I wear glasses / contacts. I have blonde hair. I prefer loose clothing to tight clothing. I have one or more piercings I have at least one tattoo. I have blue / green eyes. I have dyed or highlighted my hair. I have gotten plastic surgery. I have or had braces. I sunburn easily. I have freckles. I paint my nails. I typically wear makeup. I don’t often smile(not in public places). I am pleased with how I look. I prefer nike to adidas. I wear baseball hats backwards.

H O B B I E S A N D T A L E N T S

I play a sport. I can play an instrument. I am artistic. I know more than one language. I have won a trophy in some sort of competition. I can cook or bake without a recipe. I know how to swim. I enjoy writing. I can do origami. I prefer movies to tv shows. I can execute a perfect somersault. I enjoy singing. I could survive in the wild on my own. I have read a new book series this year. I enjoy spending time with friends. I travel during school or work breaks. I can do a handstand.

R E L A T I O N S H I P S

I am in a relationship. I have been single for over a year. I have a crush. I have a best friend I have known for ten years. my parents are together. I have dated my best friend. I am adopted. my crush has confessed to me. I have a long distance relationship. I am an only child. I give advice to my friends. I have made an online friend. I met up with someone I have met online

A E S T H E T I C S

I have heard the ocean in a conch shell. I have watched the sunrise. I enjoy rainy days. I have slept under the stars. I meditate outside. the sound of chirping calms me. I enjoy the smell of the beach. I know what snow tastes like. I listen to music to fall asleep. I enjoy thunderstorms. I enjoy cloud watching. I have attended a bonfire. I pay close attention to colors. I find mystery in the ocean. I enjoy hiking on nature paths. autumn is my favorite season. (oh damn i am SO aesthetic)

M I S C E L L A N E O U S

I can fall asleep in a moving vehicle. I am the mom friend. I live by a certain quote. I like the smell of sharpies. I am involved in extracurricular activities. I enjoy mexican food. I can drive a stick-shift. I believe in true love. I make up scenarios to fall asleep. I sing in the shower. I wish I lived in a video game. I have a canopy above my bed. I am multiracial. I am a redhead. I own at least three dogs.

tags: (sorry if you’ve already done this!!) @blurglesmurfklaine @dreamlandhummel @klaineownsmysoul @yas5416 @bowie-boy

[crossbows-and-moonshine]

Stigma around writing fanfics? Fuck that!

(I write this mainly from a writer’s POV but this also applies to fanfic readers)

Buckle up kids, it’s gonna be a long one. *slurps wine*

Some of you might not agree with me here, but the majority of fanfic writers I have spoken to do. So let's address it, shall we? 

There is a very real stigma surrounding writing fanfics that is fucking ridiculous. 

It leaves the writer feeling somewhat secretive or even ashamed that they write fanfics at all.

Maybe you think you are not ashamed or you don't feel this way. But if someone asked you what you write, would you straight up say fanfics without hesitation? Or would your answer be more like this;

Random person: What do you write?

You: Oh...uhhh. Just short stories. Creative writing. Stuff. Thangs. [runs and dives out of the window]

Some fanfic writers feel so scared of being judged by others if they find out, and in some cases, it's because they have first-hand experience of a grade-A asshole who made them feel that way.

There are tonnes of misconceptions about fanfic writers, too many to go into in one post. But the main ones I’ve come across time and time again are that all fanfics are written by either ‘naive and silly’ 14-year-old girls (if you are a 14-year-old girl, keep slaying the writing like the fucking queen you are), or that we’re some kind of depraved weird sexual deviant, or ya know, a virgin living vicariously through our writing.

This is all bullshit. Say that with me,

B.U.L.L.S.H.I.T

Writing fanfics has nothing to do with our age or if we have or hadn't had sex. We write fanfics because we love to write and we have an intense love for a fandom that makes us happy. So we smush those two together to write and spread our joy onto other fans.

Some people just have this weird issue with people that write fanfiction that I won't ever be able to wrap my head around. And sometimes, they think they're being sneaky about it too. They could be the person whose mocking you and trying to mask it with backhanded compliments or pretending it's teasing even though they know it's hurtful. It could be the person who finds out you write fics and sends the link to everyone you know without your permission. It could be the people that laugh behind your back and think you don't know, even though you fucking do. It doesn't always have to be outright comments on it, even though sometimes it is.

Some people treat us like we aren't ‘real’ writers because we write fanfics and not original fiction. A lot of fanfics writers do write original stuff, and even if they don't, it doesn't make them any less of a writer. I write short horror stories and poetry that nobody gives a shit about. But fanfic takes up about 98% of my writing now because it's what I love the most. Fanfic writers still spend hours and hours writing, editing it a billion times to get it perfect. We still have to be creative. We think of plot lines and put the characters in new situations. We write. And you know what the definition of a writer is? 

Fuck them with their superior bullshit about you not being a writer. If you write, then you're a fucking writer. 

So you know what you do the next time someone makes you feel shitty for writing fanfic? You go home, open a new document and write a new fic, making them a character and kill them off *cackles and runs off into the night*

Okay no, not that. Although I won't lie, I've done it before and it feels hella good. But what you should actually do instead of feeling shitty about yourself is;

Feel sorry for them.

But they’re assholes, why should I feel sorry for them?

Yeah, some of them are assholes with bad attitudes and you need to give them the finger and tell them to sit on it. But you know what, most of them haven't ever discovered the joys of fanfic. And to me, that's real fucking sad.

They haven't ever had the joy of reading or writing a fic that brings you insane joy, of being immersed in the fictional universe of your favourite character. They haven't had that amazing feeling when a reader reaches out to a writer and then suddenly they're close friends. They don't know the excitement you get when you get a notification for your fave fic, or the rush you get when you complete writing one. They don't know any of that, and they might never with that shitty ass attitude. 

Fanfic as a reader and a writer has brought me so much joy over the years. And I wish everyone could experience that same joy. Fanfic has saved actual lives, I don't care if you think I’m being dramatic here. I’m talking first hand from people I know and myself.

My mental health has been bad since I was a young teen. I've been medicated since I was 14 years old and I've suffered with self-harm and suicidal thoughts. I know I’m not alone in this. Maybe you feel alone, maybe you feel like you have no reason to go on and nothing makes you happy anymore. You know it's only gonna get worse so what's the point? 

But then you get notified of a new chapter on your fave fic, or you stumble across a new one. And suddenly you're reading it and it's giving you all the feels. It's making you smile and maybe even laugh. And that spark you thought had left you, it's back. And you think to yourself, maybe today isn't the day. Maybe I can hold out a little longer.

To some people fanfic is everything and it keeps them going. So what is the big issue if it keeps people alive and makes them happy?

We get comments about ;

- You don't even get paid for it, why bother?

- Ew, sex scenes.

- You're writing about a universe someone else created. You aren't talented. You aren't creative. It's easy and lazy.

- We don't get paid for it, and we don't fucking care. We do it because we fucking love it. It's a hobby. Can we just let that word soak in? Hobby. A hobby is something someone does in their downtime because they enjoy it. Need it even simpler? I enjoy writing- I write.

People don't go around talking shit about other people's hobbies because it doesn't make them money. Why is it a bad thing that we spend hours creating things and sharing them without cost for people to enjoy? Some writers make fanfics longer than fucking novels and it's all free for anyone to read. 

My fic Such a Softer Sin is longer than ‘Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone.’ Harry Potter is 76,944 words long, whereas Such a Softer Sin is 138,452.

- How many non-fanfic books are out there with sex scenes in them? This isn't exclusive to fanfiction. But people like to act like we're all sex mad and freaks for some reason. I enjoy writing sex scenes honestly. But you know what? Sex is a natural thing that happens on the fucking planet everywhere. *gasps* I know, what a fucking revelation right? We aren’t fucking 12 years old here, come on. 

- Yeah, we are writing about a verse that's already made and characters that already exist. But you know what? That makes it harder to fucking write, you uncultured swine. 

You have to take a character that someone else created and try to get to know them on such a level that you can write them. You have to get into their head and into the head of the person that created them, trying to keep them true to themselves. This isn't an original character you have made. One with a backstory you know flawlessly, one you know every little detail about. Some of these characters have obscure info about them, things we don't even see in movies or shows and it's up to use to try and figure it out. Writing a character that already exists and writing them well is harder than writing an OC, so let's just get that fucking right.

It's not easy and it's not lazy. Its showing love and appreciation for something that already exists. It's loving it that much that you want to make more of it, you want to delve deeper than what's already out there.

So to all the assholes that want to have their misconceptions, who think it's okay to shame people that love their hobby, the one that doesn't only make them happy but other people;

Fuck you.

And to those fanfic writers out there; Don't feel ashamed of it. Don't shy away or hide because you're scared of being judged for it. You love it, and that's what matters. Their opinion doesn’t mean a damn thing.

To the readers; The same as above. The writer's love you more than you’ll ever know. You make them feel a little less alone and make them smile every time you interact. 

Fanfic isn't for everybody and that's fine. But there's a difference between not being into it and being indifferent, and being a fucking dick. 

Fanfiction isn't something to be embarrassed about. It's not some dirty little secret people need to keep or for people to make fun of because they don't have a clue. It should be embraced. It should be encouraged. It shouldn't be seen as some weird thing that makes people uncomfortable or that the readers or writers are freaks. 

Fanfic is bigger than people realise. You will walk by so many people in the street that read fanfic and you don't even know it. You're not alone and you don't have to feel that way. And the next time someone tries to make you feel shit about it, take a deep breath and just remember;

Feel sorry for them. 

They’ll never fucking know the joy you do.