#the first fanfiction i ever written i think? the first big one for sure

[margarethelstone-2]

so i've been listening to a random shuffled playlist on spotify and all was fine and good except when it started playing one of my old fanfic songs and now i'm. not fine.

[kirisaki-daichi-scenarios]

girls just wanna have fun | nash gold jr + younger sister!reader

for anon who asked “Since you did a Nash with a little brother headcanons, could you do Nash with a little sister? (Maybe like a 2 year difference)” … yeah so much for that. in my defence i did start writing hcs with a 2 year difference, but then i had a Vision and suddenly words started flowing through my head for the first time in weeks so i had to type at the speed of light to get them down before my phone died. then my phone died anyway so the second half of this was originally written on a napkin. being sat on a train floor writing fanfiction on a napkin is possibly the most loser-y thing i’ve ever done but hey, at least i had fun. you might still get some hcs - it depends on if i can be bothered / how well this au does, but i hope you like this oneshot anyway!

“Practice more next time,” is what 12-year-old Nash tells you, age seven, after you’re eliminated in the first round of the school’s spelling bee.

Then he sees your lip start to wobble.

He rolls his eyes and adds, “but they gave you the hardest word. Totally.”

As he listens to you complaining about how unfair life is, whilst knowing that, at your age, he could have spelt “rosette” backwards, Nash just keeps biting his tongue. Lets you rant and nods in agreement whenever you check to see if he’s still listening.

He’s a big brother now, that’s how his parents put it, he has to be a good role model. And - this is what Nash is thinking to himself - he has to be an extra good big brother to make up for the useless parents who should have been here for their daughter’s first spelling bee. He has to be the one promising he’ll take you to the ice cream shop round the corner so that, in years from now, it’ll be the vanilla that sticks in your memory, and not the two empty chairs with “reserved for the Golds” on the seats. He doesn’t want you to think of your childhood years like how he thinks of his.

Nash Gold tries hard to keep his little sister happy.

-

But once Nash goes into high school, and starts taking his basketball, water sports, boxing, and everything else more seriously, there’s less time for being the stand-in parent attending all your events.

The good news is that you start doing less anyway. The preteen years have made you shy away from the world, flitting from hobby to hobby without anything to really bury your soul in. There was the anime-inspired volleyball obsession that died as soon as you finished your binging the seasons; the brief craving to join the basketball club until you realised just how incompetent your teammates were compared to Nash, how boring and difficult everything was when it was not your big brother doing it; the desire to be the West End’s next star that was crushed by receiving the role of tree in the school play and tripping over in your only scene (how Nash had laughed! And then scowled at the people laughing at you next to him); and then the single-day infatuation with joining the chess club, the infatuation dying as soon as you realised your chess-playing crush already had a girlfriend.

To fill your time, you start accompanying Nash to Jabberwock’s practices. No one wants you there. Nash has forbidden them from swearing around you, and any sex jokes are an even bigger no: given these two things combined are 90% of the usual Jabberwock conversation, it’s not a surprise that there’s grumbling when they see you walking behind Nash.

But Nash silences any grumbling with a glare as cold as ice.

Because, sure, he doesn’t want his little sister following him around everywhere but he’d much rather you were doing your homework in the court of a street ball court instead of sitting alone in an empty house.

Nash’s priority is always that you finish your homework. Only then will he let you help out as the team’s mini manager: topping up water bottles, fetching balls, collecting the boy’s hoodies when they get too warm. And, over time, your place in the team feels more secure. You’re good in your role as the little helper. You crack a “that’s what she said” joke that gets everyone guffawing - everyone but Nash, that is, who scolds you the high heavens, demands to know where you’ve been hearing jokes like that, whilst, in his heart of hearts, being thrilled that you’re coming out of your shell. You sit down with Nick during breaks to ooh and aah over his Animal Crossing Island, trembling with excitement when he hands you the Nintendo and lets you design a room of your own. You beg Zack to teach you to spin a basketball on your finger, and hug him overjoyed when you manage it for the first time. You fetch fresh headbands for Allen while looking down at the ground, blushing frantically: your crush on the boy lasts several months, though you never notice how Nash burns holes in Allen’s head whenever the two of you are talking, or how awkward having a middle schooler crush on him makes Allen feel.

Then, one day, you decide you want to learn how to do a dunk. After spending an hour watching you struggle to jump even one foot up in the air, Jason lifts you up onto his shoulders. Tells you to “try now - just tell me where you want me to go and hold on tight.”

Looking around from over 7ft tall, you feel like you’re the queen of the world.

-

By the time you’re in high school, you’ve become more confident. You don’t come to Jabberwock’s practices as often. You’ve got friends to hang out with instead, a study group that you always attend, and, inspired by your brother’s prowess in everything fisticuffs, you’ve signed up to be member of the school’s taekwondo club.

Nash never makes you to come to practice. Though it hurts seeing your corner of the court empty, devoid of the rucksack and textbooks that used to fill it, he knows that this is for the best. A teen girl shouldn’t be living in her brother’s shadow. Hell, a guy shouldn’t have his little sister in his shadow either.

But Nash still finds it hard to hold back a grin when you see him grabbing his basketball bag and ask if you can “come with?” And when you’re at practice, it’s like nothing’s changed. You join in with everyone else teasing Zack over his newly shaven head; you still get a little shy when talking to Allen; and you whoop and gush over Nick’s high arc shots as if you’ve never seen them before.

“You’re my number two favourite basketball player ever,” you tell Nick, rushing over to him as he awkwardly runs his hand through his spiky blonde hair.

Overhearing, Allen says with a little hope, “he’s not number one?”

“Obviously not,” you roll your eyes, “Nash is my number one. Duh.”

No one loves Nash as much as you do, and no one loves you as much as he does.

-

It turns out Nash is an anomaly, and that combat sport skill does not run in the family. You are horrible at taekwondo: your kicks are accurate - surprisingly so given how bad your balance is - but, no matter how many drills you do, or how many times you insist Nash comes up with a workout routine for you, they never develop much power.

But you’re trying hard to improve, forever inspired by your brother, and you take any chance to kick that you’re given.

“Taekwondo?” asks Jason one morning, as practices a free throw. “They don’t have any good martial arts clubs at your school?”

“You wouldn’t be saying that if you’d felt the pain of my kicks,” you retort, hands on your hips.

Jason turns to you. “Go on then.”

You ready yourself, check your footing’s correct, and then swing your leg out. With a thud, your foot makes contact with Jason’s side.

He stares at you, almost in pity. “That’s it?”

But Nash is walking by and he’s glaring like he normally does whenever someone that’s not him makes him little sister look inadequate. So, dutifully, Jason falls backwards in slo-mo and pretends to roll on the floor in agony, crying out for his mother and claiming that he’s never known such pain, while you give him another kick in his side for being a jerk.

(Nash never scolds you for kicking his teammates, though, of course, he’d have a fit if any of them even looked at you wrong.)

Of course, you’re not an idiot; you know you’re not good at taekwondo. But, unlike all your previous school clubs, you’re not planning on leaving this one. After all, without the club, you’d have no opportunities to say good morning to star of the Taekwondo club, Ryuu. And you’d never get to feel his fingers brushing against your arm as he corrects your posture; you’d never get to see his grin and thumbs up as he tells you he’s sure your kicks are improving; and, more importantly, you would have never got the opportunity to wait for him outside the dojang, see him walk out looking more handsome than ever, and ask him if he’d ever think about going out with you.

“Think about it?” Ryuu replies. “Man, I dream of it!”

Smiling from ear to ear, he reaches out to intertwine his fingers with yours, and he doesn’t let go of your hand until he’s walked you all the way home. The feeling of his touch lingers, the warmth flooding through your veins, and keeping your smile fixed on your face.

Nash is sitting on the sofa when you walk in. He looks up from his phone and frowns, “who was the guy?”

“I’m dating the coolest guy in the whole school,” you gush, racing to your brother’s side to tell him all about Ryuu, and you’re still talking about the boy - enthusing now about his Taekwondo prowess - by the time Nash starts preparing dinner.

Nash says he’s happy that you’re happy, grunts occasionally in agreement with your rambles, and accepts the fact that this is probably all he’ll be hearing for the next few hours.

“You’re not upset with me, are you?” you ask eventually, noticing how your brother’s gone quiet.

“Never” replies Nash. “Why would I have an issue with you dating a guy who’s made you this happy?”

But it’s funny how often you bump into him when you’re out with said boyfriend. And not just Nash: it’s like the whole team starts appearing out of nowhere at cafes, parks, funfairs. And these chance encounters always follow the same trend: the boys are happy to see you, chatty and joking, and then they look at Ryuu and their faces take on a cold sneer, every inch the vicious Jabberwock archetype they’re known for.

Nash tells him, “you look after my sister, yeah? Or else.” And if looks could kill…

Zack pretends to be polite, saying “well, I’ve got no problem with you - for now. You make sure to keep it that way.”

Nick has to hold back a snicker as he replies to your boyfriend with “yeah, nice to meet you man, whatever.” Then he turns to you and whispers, “you would have been better off with Allen.”

Allen wipes the sneer of his face when you ask him to be nice; he smiles at you, but then, as he meets your boyfriend’s gaze, he mumbles to you, “you’ve got my number if you ever need me to sort any problems out.”

Jason says, “this guy? Seriously? Shit, I could snap in two him like a twig.”

By the time he meets Jason, your boyfriend’s long fed up of the slander. He stands up from the bench, even though it only makes him look smaller against Jason’s muscular 6ft11 frame, looks up into the other man’s amused expression, and replies, “with all due respect, I was the Taekwondo state champion last year.”

Jason’s laugh is so loud and booming it practically triggers an earthquake.

-

Ryuu’s a good boyfriend. Nash never learns to genuinely like him, but he stops disliking him as much as time goes on. He orders pizza for the three of you when you and Ryuu are doing a study date at the Gold household; he drives you to Ryuu’s Taekwondo tournament and grudgingly claps when he wins; or he throws a couple condoms at Ryuu when you’re snuggling against your boyfriend on your bed, watching your favourite movie together.

“You should be grateful I’m such a good brother,” Nash laughs when you start punching him for embarrassing the two of you like this. “You know, when I was your age…”

“Go away, Nash!” you screech, pushing him out of the room, “God, you’re such a nuisance.”

“All I’m saying is use protection,” comes Nash’s sniggering voice as you slam the door shut behind him.

You walk back over to Ryuu. “I’m sorry about him. Honestly, he’s the worst.”

“Nah, your brother’s cool,” says Ryuu, but he’s still blushing a bit as he gives you that golden grin of his that makes you feel like you’re his entire world.

-

But all good things come to an end.

Ryuu moves to a new state where he’ll be able to get better Taekwondo instruction. His coach thinks he’s got Olympic potential - they don’t want him to be wasted in this city where nothing good ever matters - and his parents are in agreement.

“They said the sooner I leave, the better for my future,” quotes Ryuu as squeezes your hand, looking down at the ground beneath the swings you’re sharing. “But I wanted you to be my future.”

Nash had told you not to interfere - that you don’t want to be the person holding Ryuu back from his dreams - so you encourage Ryuu to go, tell him that you’ll still be his future, it’s just a few years of separation.

And it’s Nash who drives you to the airport and watches from a distance as the two of you hug for the final time, promising to say in contact, promising that you’ll be able to make long distance work.

When you walk back to Nash, your lip’s wobbling like it did back when you were seven. As soon as he wraps his arm around you, you burst into tears, sobbing into his shirt. Your brother hugs you tighter, like he’s the only thing in the world keeping you from falling into pieces. His voice is quiet and calm and betrays none of the pain he feels looking at your crying figure.

Into the top of your head, Nash mutters, “As soon as the season’s over, you and I will go on a road trip to go see him, alright? And you can call him every night if you want. And if he even thinks of looking at another girl, or ignoring a single text of yours, Jason and I will fly over and deal with him. Or we’ll kidnap him and bring him back to you if that’s what you want.”

You’re crying harder, fingers clutching onto Nash’s shirt even tighter.

“I’ll skip practice today if you want; we can do a movie night instead.”

Voice muffled by how your face is pressed into Nash’s chest, so none of the passersby might see you crying, you reply, “no. You should go to practice.”

“I’m not gonna leave you alone like this.”

“Can I come?”

“What - to practice? Yeah, ‘course. The boys are always happy to have you around.”

You look up and force a smile, biting on your tongue like it might stop you crying, as Nash matches your smile with a sad grin of his own.

“It’s gonna be rough, but you’ll get through it,” he says, “you’re the toughest kid I know.”

And he pulls you in for another hug.

fun fact: the original plan was for the boyfriend to cheat on reader who breaks up with him, and then for jabberwock to go teach him a lesson. but then i thought “why the need for all this violence?”, me of course being the admin of a blog dedicated to a team that’s known for their non-violent ways. but anyway i figured it was an overused trope and why not show nash being an actually good supportive brother, so here you go. (and if anyone enjoyed reading about the lesser known jabberwock members, then you might also like these hcs) (and if you wanna read the nash little brother hcs, you can find them here)

[choicesficwriterscreations]

March Creator of the Month: Bayleedraws-sometimesx

Each month, CFWC highlights one of our talented fanfic writers or artists, and this month’s creator of the month is the lovely @bayleedraws-sometimesx!  The writer is selected at random. More info can be found on the navigation page. Past COTM's can be found here. Center photo by the lovely @bayleedraws-sometimesx!

Quick Links:

Tumblr Blog

How do you want to be known on Tumblr? 

Baylee

More below...

When did you start playing Choices? What was the first book you played? 

I think it was in 2018, and I first played Bloodbound 1. 

When and why did you join Choices fandom?

It was December 2020. I was really struggling at that point; my whole life had changed, and I still hadn't come to terms with it after a year. It was just an escape. 

How did you pick your blog name? 

It’s just my name and what I do. 

Pull up the first post in your archive, and tell us about it!  

It’s just a pfp i did over halloween. It’d me dressed like Sally from Nightmare before Christmas. 

Do you write fanfiction, create fan art, or are you one of those really gifted people who do both? 

I used to want to be a writer. I really love writing stories, I’ve never really written any fanfiction, but technically, I can draw and write. 

How long have you been creating for Choices and for any other fandoms?

It’ll be four years in December since I’ve been creating Choices-related stuff, but ever since I was a little kid, I’d get obsessed with different shows/ characters and write/ draw them. 

What is your favorite Choices book, and what is your favorite Choices book to create for?

My favourite book is definitely Bloodbound. I love drawing BB related stuff because I have a slight obsession with Kamiliah 

Share your first Choices fanfic or fan art that you posted with us. Do you still like it, or would you change it if you were creating it today?

It was a drawing I did for @ao719. I think I would change a lot if I were to draw it now. I don’t really like it anymore, and my style has definitely changed over the years.  I find it really embarrassing looking back at old drawings. 

What is your favorite piece of fiction or art that you created? 

A BB animation (I still haven't finished), but it was really fun writing the story and designing/ drawing everything. 

Do you have a creation that you didn’t expect to be well received, but it was? What about one you expected to do well but found it could use a little more love?

I never expected any animations to do well and was very surprised when they did. I’m really sure that I would like to get more attention. 

If you could only draw one style or type of art for the rest of your life, what would it be and why? 

I don't know. I’m moving into my own flat soon, so I’ve been drawing some scenery pieces I’m going to put up once I’m there. I find them really therapeutic to draw, so maybe that. 

Do you ever recognize yourself in any of your MCs?

Sometimes. 

What element of art do you struggle with most?

Probably finishing the pieces off. By that point I’ve stared at it for so many hours that all I can see are  the problems with it. 

Do you have any neglected work you really want to finish?

Absolutely, I’m going through a lot right now so there’s quite a lot of things that i really do want to finish but i just dont have the motivation. 

If someone you know in real life (who isn’t involved in fandoms) asked to see your work, would you let them? If yes, what would you show them first? 

Maybe. My big brother taught me how to draw, so occasionally, I’ll let him look at some of my drawings. 

16 - Are there any writers (published authors and/or fanfic writers) who influenced your writing or art? Are there any artists that influence you?

I can’t think of anyone published that I looked up to or have really inspired my artwork. There’s definitely people that i know in my life that have. 

Which one of your creations would you like to see fiction written about? 

I have absolutely no idea lol 

Do you write original fiction or create non-fandom art? 

Yeah, I love creating new characters and really animations doing animations of my original characters.

What other hobbies do you have?

A lot of crafty things. I was taught how to sew, knit, and crochet as a kid, and those are things I still enjoy doing now. 

[unanswered-stars]

Thank you so much for tagging me @jules-writes-stories @highlordofkrypton @achaotichuman

1. How many works do you have on AO3? I'm a but a wee babe in the ao3 world so just 7 but I have several WIP's that are on pause currently. I had originally had a fic planned for each day of Eris week but haven't been able to write in awhile so might be some time before those are published but once I start posting again you can expect Eris chaos to reign.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count? 36,487 I struggle to write long chapters and most of my works end up being around 2,500.

3. What fandoms do you write for? A Court of Thorns and Roses

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Shadows of Regret and Redemption| Azris - My first published work. A oneshot that grew legs and started to run. I am not completely happy with it thus far but I have the end plotted and I'm excited to eventually bring that to life.

Daughter of Autumn | Azris - Now this one absolutely shocked me with its popularity. Started as a fun little drabble for Gwyn Week 2024 and of course turned into Azris central.

The Beginning and End of Friendship | Azris - So many people screaming in the comments at me on this one. More screaming to come when I post part two I’m sure.

Two Souls Entangled| Azris - A tiny part of my soul via a short poem for Azris Week 2024.

Heaven Help the Fool Who Falls In Love: The End | Azris - This is the first piece I wrote for fanfiction and it is my precious baby. Only one chapter posted but I have several in need of editing before I publish the remainder. It's very heavy and I haven't had the mental space to read through it again.

5. Do you respond to comments? Every single one! They bring me so much joy. I have currently stayed away from my comment section for my own mental health but when I start posting again I will get back to everyone's comments, promise.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? All of my works are fairly heavy on the angst. TBaEoF comes to mind but I think for published works I’ll go with The Ending of Darkness which is a short little piece about @jules-writes-stories OC Mithras x Sylvan which I have a part 2 almost completed which is equally as angsty (sorry). Unpublished works definitely The Burning of Leaves and The Death of Shadows which are two fics I had planned for Eris week but are currently on pause (poor Eris I was really putting him through the wringer for Eris Week).

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Daughter of Autumn. Mostly because Cassian has the closing line and he just always says the darndest things.

8. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? I have not, nor do I plan on it. Please don’t hate me 😅 Just not my writing jam. I love finding unique ways to explore a relationship and conveying those same emotions and feelings without the smut. That being said some of my favourite stories and authors use smut as such a wonderful exploratory storytelling device and it is delightful. I love reading others contributions to the smutsphere. So so many talented writers out there giving us all our smuttiest dreams. I truly do not think that my smut contribution is even necessary when you have things like To Become a Vanssera by @acourtofladydeath and Why Not Me by @thomasisaslut both absolutely rife with smut and use it beautifully to convey their story (albiet in very different ways).

9. Do you write crossovers? Not yet, and probably not ever because I can hardly keep up with writing ideas I have for one fandom.

10. Have you ever had a fic translated? No.

11. Have you ever co-written a fic before? No, but it sounds delightful.

12. What is your all-time favorite ship? Azris most definitely for writing. I definitely have a big soft spot for Samwise and Rosie from LOTR (my husband is Samwise reincarnated and I am irrevocably in love with him). I have a WIP for Thesan and his lover and that dynamic and storyline has been so incredibly fun to explore as well.

13. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? I started writing a Tarquin UTM oneshot that is incomplete and while I am still in love with the story I really struggled with writing the voice of Tarquin. This one will only ever get finished if I can finally figure out the right tone for this man’s internal dialogues.

14. What are your writing strengths? I have been told my writing reads like poetry which is one of the biggest compliments you could ever give me. I also love writing parallels but there’s definitely a lot of room for improvement there.

15. What are your writing weaknesses?  Editing haha. But actually, I find that my characters voices don’t feel very distinct and that there is a lot of overlap in the way they speak and think and it can be hard to distinguish who’s talking/thinking. I feel like my characters resemble a cookie cutter suburban neighborhood where the walls and trim might be a different colour but they’re all built exactly the same. If anyone has some tips please feel free to comment or message me!

16. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? I absolutely love reading it but unfortunately the only other language I know isn’t really a language at all. Pidgin, which is basically just native slang. I was playing around with it in my Tarquin fic a bit but seemed a tad too niche.

17. First fandom you wrote for? LOTR in middle school. I have a printed multi chapter booklet that is a rewrite of Sam and Frodo’s journey through Mordor that I made for my English class one year.

18. Favorite fic you’ve written? My favourite multi chapter by another author is undoubtedly A Court of Shadows and Ashes by @futurehunt Mother Save Us From Your Twisted fate by @chunkypossum which got a stunning part 2 for Eris Week this year! My favorite of my own published works is either HHtFWFiL:TE or The Ending of Darkness. Of my unpublished works honesty The Burning of Leave or The Death of Shadows are both strong contenders. For non Azris I have a Beron fic WIP for @sjmvillainweek day 1 that will probably get prioritized over the other two.

No pressure tags (and sorry if you've already been tagged): @the-darkestminds @born-to-riot @chairofchaos @thomasisaslut @chunkypossum @acourtofladydeath @shadowsandlint

[not-poignant]

Hi Pia

I have 2 separate questions that are unrelated but share a subject matter.

Would a woman omega or trans man omega who was infertile/sterile be allowed at Hillview?

And 2) Have you thought or would you ever write an mm pairing where one of them was a trans man?

I'm trans masc and I find it so hard to find good trans fics that deal with trauma recovery or aren't just pwp. And I love your writing so much that if you ever decided to write a transman fic I'd literally cry from happiness.

So, I was going to write a big long world-building response to this but instead I'm gonna take it back to something personal - you're asking me to consider worldbuilding for and writing for stuff I feel pretty dysphoric over in my personal life. I go out of my way to really, really avoid writing heterosexuality of any kind for a start, so I don't want to think about all the fringe cases where I can make heterosexuality possible at Hillview or the sister site. That's just...icky to me.

As for trans folk, being that I'm also transmasc, I'm mostly team 'if you want to see it happen you can write it happening. I have zero problems with that. But there's stuff I'm not writing about either for reasons relating to dysphoria, or for reasons relating to 'this is not actually why I enjoy writing in the first place.' This is why I don't do self-inserts, for example. I don't like seeing myself in my own stories, I prefer seeing myself represented in other stories.

So -> If other folks want to write it, they can! If they want to solve those worldbuilding issues, they absolutely can! If they want to write fic about it, I'm gonna set off a confetti cannon for them in celebration.

In terms of worldbuilding, the answer would just always be: It depends. If you want to find the fringe cases then sure, there would always be exceptions! But if there was any chance of fertility/pregnancy with their companion, then no. So it would absolutely need to be not just a hormonal transition (a lot of things can impact consistent hormonal uptake and I think omegaverse hormones in the Underline universe would actually impact them a lot too), but one that covered bottom surgery as well.

Is that like, a problem in honouring someone's gender? Absolutely!! The Underline universe isn't perfect. But preventing pregnancy is their biggest concern at Hillview and the sister site. I know in regular/standard ORFs, they only care about the fertility issue, and care about literally nothing else, and yes, that can be a huge issue re: trans folk. This world is a dystopia, it doesn't pretend to be anything else.

The fun thing about fanfiction, is that other people can erase all of that with a sweep, come up with some magical contraception, and just make it happen. :D

As a transmasc person myself, I have stuff I just don't like writing. Just like everyone else does. You are absolutely welcome and completely have my blessing to imagine whatever you like for Underline, to write it in fic, to daydream about it, to bend and change the rules that already exist or to make up new ones that don't exist yet, that work for a world you want to read about.

But for me...it just comes too close to 'if I have to change or figure out these things I also have to think about how to set up 'woman omega and man alpha' heterosexuality and I just don't want to.'

I'm so sorry anon. I'm going to circle this one under competing needs. Sometimes the thing another person needs to find gender affirmation, is the thing that will harm another person's experience of their own gender, even if that gender shares the same general name, even if that changes down the track. (This is how we get some trans people who hate genderbending in fic and say it's dysphoric, and other trans people who love it and say it's affirming. It's true for both, neither should impose their views on the other).

The TL;DR being: I write what I want to be writing. If I'm not writing it, and have never written it, it's because I don't want to write it. In the matter of heterosexuality: zero interest, I'll leave that for other folks. In the matter of being trans, dealing with my own gender stuff irl is already a nightmare that I don't want to have to write out a version of that again in fiction, because I can't live it twice, and I don't like writing fluffy stories.

[jessaerys]

your fav mello/near fics??? thank yeww (also love your drawings!)

oohh this reminds me i should pick up my ff.net archival reclist project up again...

it is of note that it's been a looooong while since i've combed the archives and there's a couple of common tropes i don't usually read due to personal taste, so i'm sure there's a lot of good fic i'm unaware of and/or forgetting about! this has totally renewed my interest in making a comprehensive personal reclist >:) perhaps i'll come back and edit this post every now and then.

i owe comments to nearly everyone mentioned here i am SO sorry. it's a lost skill that i am working on developing again. at the very least i've got everyone in one place so i can go down the list this year. i encourage everyone reading from this reclist to leave a comment too!

i wrote "off the top of my head" but this got VERY long so under the readmore it goes

obligatory classics

• the famous @tierfal 's sidetracked (2010) and full of surprises (2009). rated e and m respectively. these are like the allegorical little black dress in the wardrobe of the platonic ideal of the mellonear oneshot. seem to be pretty well known across the ship fandom • stripped (2009) by blueberryash/@tka-trashfire on tumblr. explicit. i haven't read this in a while but i remember it capturing the delicate gossamer tension of the ship in a way that was sooo bittersweet and nostalgic. • to speak of rules and privilege (2008) also by blueberryash/@tka-trashfire, gen, a manifesto on tenderness, soooooooooo soft, changed the game, near being afraid of thunderstorms was immediately adopted into personal canon. big time influence for the way i write near and mello's pre-canon relationship re: big brother, little brother. • an understanding (2008) by blueberryash/@tka-trashfire, rated T, short and sweet, razor sharp prose, the aesthetics of the little piece live rent free in my head. • dual(2011) by ramasi, @ramasi here i believe. rated m. historians say this might be one of the first examples of mellonear choking kink ever recorded,

•scarification (2012) by gacrux11 on fanfiction.net, rated m, big time dead dove do not eat. sorry this one leans early 2010s era grimdark melodrama but i love it sjkdfkjfd. not enough dead dove fics about the boys if u ask me. • salt in the wound (2007) •tempus fugit (2007), and • white out (2006) by vaudevillain king on fanfiction. net. a beloved rare find. all of them are rather grimdark edgy products of their era, but some of the best the era had to offer. they make me so nostalgic for my teenagehood on fanfiction.net. i get the impression these might've been written even before death note was finished? • birthday smut (2009) by kleine_aster on livejournal. explicit. this one is SO funny to me because it is both really, really good, very in character, but unfortunately it suffers from almost satirical misogyny that afflicted fujoshis back in the day. near literally is like oh that bitch... like. he would not fucking think that but i can edit quickly in my brain as i read. bisexual mello rights! otherwise really sexy imo. i might be writing something that's kind of in conversation with this fic.

RARE finds

(please tell me if you enjoy any of these, i want to feel like an explorer that's brought back treasures from far away lands)

contemporary favorites:

• you've heard about it before and you will hear about it again: the archer ensnared (2023) by jabbernatty, rated e. a jessaerys obligatory syllabus read, the fic that made me go fulltime yaoi disease. i owe so much to jabbernatty they are my white whale my friend my enemy the writer i've psychically imprinted on from the beginning. honestly too scared to even leave a comment given the jessarys archer ensnared lore. may one day may contact and pray i don't come across as insane • postmortem (2023) by the_hemlock true gen, a favorite of ALL time. it's only tangentially mn really, it is 99% about near trying to piece together the mystery of lawlight post-canon, but the characterization and prose are some of if not the best i've ever come across. reads like it could be a piece of canon material. if you only read one fic on this list i'd pick postmortem. • it's friday i'm in love by neallo/@neallo rated m. possibly my all time fave in the neallo cinematic universe. something about the after-hours longing and the standing in the kitchen by the refrigerator lights, as the poets say. i love when stories feel like you're cutting out a window to peer into a larger universe that is just out of reach. perfectly captures what it is like to have a maddening crush • i want to hold you (hostage)(2023) by neallo/@neallo rated e. thee defining fic of this current modern mellonear era. manages to walk the line of kinky/sexy/sweet/fluffy all at once. plot twist of the century in the last chapter. near is properly as bananas insane as mello is in this fic, which is the marker of a good mellonear dynamic. really everything by morgan neallo is a safe bet for a great read • there's nothing i want but you (2023) by neallo/@neallo rated t. wammy's era mellonear obsessiveness that is soooo teenagery and yet a portent of just how codependent they might one day get. cute and ominous. • armageddon/kill game (2024) by bolide/@bolide-archive came out of nowhere a couple of months ago and ascended to the top of the game like a dark horse. rated m, chess au. one of my favorite interior mello narrations and one of the most similar to my own interpretation. such naturally talented prose. i rotate lines from this in my head all the time. still in progress but i have faith that it will be completed :') • how to burn down the sacred loom (2023) by dornishviper/@vriskarlmarx a contemporary CLASSIC. the less you know going in the better. beautiful prose, beautiful structure. they don't make fic like this anymore • the house always wins (2023) by mer_curia/@vivi-scera. screaming with my mouth closed. holds a special place in my heart given that it is my posting that convinced vi to give the ship a try, and i was rewarded with a fic that is so catered to my tastes i honestly had to read it through my fingers. SO good, the manifesto on wammyscest, so rather controversial. heed the warnings. • moonlight (2023) by tsukinousagi/@quicktimeeventfull rated t. an austere, cold little glimpse into a vampire au. it's giving let the right one in. so melancholic. one of the saddest near examinations out there. •proximity tells (2018) by abysmallypresent, rated m. truly lives up to death note's second-by-second minutia while managing to keep up the tension the entire time. great characterization. •silhouettes (2015) by bad blood/eroticcodependence, @wxmmyshouse on tumblr. unrated, post-canon compliant. made me CRY! elegantly short and simple, bittersweet and so so wistful. •arsonist's lullabye (2023) by tzviaariella/@tzviaariella. rated t. this one has a heart-wrenching air of realism to it that exists outside the chaotic universe of death note, one of those examinations of picking up the pieces after the titans have all gone away. very bittersweet.

honorary mentions

• let's die somewhere prettier (2020) by firesafinething also one of my absolute favorites, unfortunately it is discontinued and it is likely it will never be completed. sad! the premise seemed SO promising. in my mind i file it right next to postmortem mentioned above. the exploration of the tragedy of 27 year old near we could have had in a better timeline. one day i will leave a comment so good maybe it will bring back the fic from the land of the dead • august underground by me & @firebuggg rated e, in progress. >:) (shamless self promo)

[rmd-writes]

this year i will fall

RWRB | E | 9.8k

a gift for @villiageidiot as part of our annual snowflak fic exchange which has been one of the highlights of my year these past three years 💖

Henry has many regrets in his life, but leaving the ice rink after a literal run in with the potential love of his life without even obtaining his name may be his biggest. With his family visiting for the holidays for the first time and ever-present work deadlines looming, he's too busy to think about how to engineer his own happy ending worthy of the novels he edits.

But what if fate has other ideas?

read on ao3 (and be sure to check out the other fics in the don we now (more) gay fanfiction collection)

I always say that these things take a village and i need to thank @welcometololaland and @celeritas2997 for always leaving the best comments in the doc and @kiwiana-writes for their help with the pretty new text coding that I used in the fic. I also owe @howtosingit about a thousand fruit baskets because not only did he title this fic (as usual), but he helped me plot the whole thing and very patiently read a draft then talked me off a ledge when I was panicking and threatening to delete a big chunk of what I’d written 💖💖

[shrekgogurt]

Ten Questions for Writers

Thank you for the tags! @artsyunderstudy @roomwithanopenfire @youarenevertooold @emeryhall @monbons @larkral I'm eating up reading your answers because we're all so DIFFERENT.

How many works do you have on AO3? 9 (technically 10 but we orphaned one of them out of shame)

What’s your total AO3 word count? 99,978 (mine) + 7,531 (shared) + 9,991 (someone else's) = 117, 500 (total)

What fandoms do you write for? presently, Carry On but back during my high school ff.net days I did some Percy Jackson/Heroes of Olympus (Percabeth and some separate OCs), Alex Rider (OCs), The 100 (as an elaborate prank), Harry Potter (literally just a My Immortal parody), and Divergent (OCs) and if they weren't oneshots they were never finished.

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? YES! I'm currently behind on my replies, but it's so fun! It's like a book club but for stuff I created!!???? Shit rocks. I fully didn't expect anyone to read IKABIKAM (my first fic on ao3) when I first published it and so every comment still feels like a miracle.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? No.

Have you ever co-written a fic before? Yes! I love collaborating because it gives me something to bounce off of. A scene partner. A ticking timer. It's like lifting a heavy object by yourself versus getting someone else to bear some of the weight with you. It's easier. I also find myself constantly seeking collaboration with other people even with my solo fics. I'm all up in those DMs pestering people both as motivation and as external processing. And by GOD, do you fuckers have some good ideas. Y'all make me exponentially better.

What’s your all-time favorite ship? SnowBaz but also in a very real sense...Percabeth. (You never forget your first.)

What are your writing strengths? I got my start with rping, so dialogue is really comfortable for me. I also think my training in other art forms (dance, music, theatre, film, academia) positively influence my approach. When writing action, I often mentally frame it as 'blocking' the scene or 'choreographing' the movement. When crafting sentences, I'm constantly evaluating the rhythm and rhyme and repetition (not to mention alliteration) as if it's a song, always searching for the perfect word or metaphor. I also listen to actual songs and pull the emotion from them, using them as character studies or a musical soliloquy. I imagine shots and then write what I see from the perspective of a director explaining the actor’s motivating thoughts. I constantly revisit my thesis, grounding the narrative in callbacks and a cohesive structure like it's an academic paper. And all those things combined create this kinetic cause and effect style I'm really proud of and tangibly improves every time I write something new.

What are your writing weaknesses? I do not have a firm grasp on proper grammar. I'm also really slow and inconsistent with my output because my process is so physically disorganized and meticulous which often frustrates me. I'm also impatient. I don't do wholesale messy drafts; I edit as I go and when I'm done I want it published immediately. I also fall victim to the white room syndrome with physical descriptions. Establishing shots? Don't know them. What a guy looks like? What they're wearing? Sorry, I haven't told you because it felt weird to jam in there. Outside of fanfiction, I also struggle with creating something from nothing. I'm a theologian rather than a god. I much prefer playing in a sandbox and exegeting meaning from someone else's grunt work rather than conjuring the wood and the sand myself. My writing is also incredibly referential to pop culture which I'm not sure would translate outside of fanfic, but I guess I'll cross that bridge if I ever get to it.

First fandom you wrote for? Divergent (big cringe)

Now tagging! @onepintobean @cutestkilla @theearlgreymage @thewholelemon @mooncello @brilla-brilla-estrellita @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @bookish-bogwitch @facewithoutheart @fatalfangirl @urban-sith @prettygoododds @valeffelees @ileadacharmedlife TELL ME HOW YOU WRITE YOU GENIUSES

[weirdsociology]

Distractions (The Mandalorian, E)

Title: Distractions (6.6k)

Series: Part one of Creed, a non-linear series about Din Djarin and his favorite... distraction. 

Description: An artifact from the Mandalorian's past leads to trying something new - and remembering the past.

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Reader

Content warnings: Explicit sexual content, sex toys, fingering, mutual masturbation, dirty talk, oral sex, penetrative sex, implied violence, spit, a touch of size kink, light manhandling, very mild D/s in all directions because we love a switch in this house, no betas we die like men, canon what canon

Tropes: hurt/comfort, idiots with feelings, angst but it all works out in the end, the helmet stays on

Author's note: I blacked out, I don't know what happened, and frankly I'm embarrassed that the first fanfic I've written in 20 years is kind of fluffy and not significantly more insane. This little offering is canon timeline-agnostic; I just wanted to give our armored dumbass a happy ending. Please don't think this reflects my personality, I am spiritually covered in the blood of my enemies at all times. Also there is one small bit of truth from my personal life in here and I'll give you a hint: it wasn't flashbangs, it was bayonets. This one is for @tarabyte3 who got me excited about what fanfiction can do again.

***

Sometimes, it's hard to sleep in hyperspace. A ship this old doesn't have the automated circadian rhythm programs that dim the lights according to species preference, and all the daylight bulbs are second-hand, their blueness dimmed by repeated use. Darkness is in plentiful supply, but that's only half the equation of an artificial night. You do your best, careful to check the time reads on the navigational display, and adhere to a schedule as much as you can. It helps give structure to long periods of transit, and you know that ten years from now, your body and mind will thank you for being careful to guard their rest.

The Mandalorian, by contrast, doesn't have a diurnal cycle as far as you've been able to tell. His sleep patterns are pure anarchy, having nothing to do with mood or physical need. Sometimes he'll spend a week getting no more rest than a few brief, truncated minutes on the ground after trekking in harsh terrain. Sometimes you'll go looking for him after a quiet stretch in flight and he'll be in the bed he calls his rack, completely dormant for the next fourteen standard hours. You don't know how he does it. He lives like someone who fully expects to die before their body has enough years to register protest - which on the one hand makes you anxious, and on the other you find it hard to blame him for.

Still, despite all your attendance to regularity, there are nights - times - when you can't sleep. Especially when you are headed past the Outer Rim, and the length of travel means nothing to do except read and watch holovideos you've already seen and eat stale food and exercise in cramped, artificial repetition. Nothing new to look at, nothing new to do.

Which is how you end up awake at this hour, dressed in nothing but your bandeau and shorts with goosebumps pebbling your legs as you lean over one of the big crates in the cargo bay. You're digging through the thermoplastic case that holds the Mandalorian's personal possessions, looking for one of the old holonovels you're sure he has stowed, when you find it. A smooth, round black cylinder with a cap on each end. At first, you suspect it's yet another esoteric firearm - but then why isn't it in the weapons locker above?

Curious, you gingerly remove the cap from one end. Life on the ship has taught you to be cautious about any unfamiliar object. You don't know if it's normal Mandalorian living style to have to shove aside a mountain of electronic flashbangs when looking for clean blankets, but it's certainly normal for this one.

What's inside isn't like any weapon you've ever seen. The cylinder is filled with something soft and yielding, silicone or plastisilk you think, and it gives disconcertingly when you brush a thumb over it. There's a small bore in the middle about the diameter of your finger, but the polymer feels like it would stretch. It's textured near where the cap would fit, small ridges inside and a gentle flowering of protuberances around the borehole. Almost like -

You stand up, unsure whether to blush or laugh, and snap the cap back on. You've certainly found something new this time; something that might help break the monotony of space travel if you approach the topic - and Mando - correctly. If you're right there should be something else nearby, something that would make this a little more... usable.

There is. A discreet bottle, neatly wrapped in plain paper.

You take cylinder and bottle and step out in the corridor from the bay, checking the location of your fellow crew. Mando is not in his rack or the lockers, which means he's in the cockpit. The Child is in his usual nest. It's late, and the kid should be asleep for a long while yet. You jam the - the toy, you suppose - and the bottle into one hand and climb your way up the ladder, half appalled at your boldness and half delighted at the thought of making your Mandalorian squirm for once. You're secretly hoping to catch him out, tease him with the evidence of his private sexual habits, a friendly nip around the edges of his Creed. 

"Look what I found," you say as you approach the pilot's chair. His head is turned away from you, bent over something in the navcomp, his long legs in front of him as stretched out as they can be in the small space. He hums an acknowledgement and takes a moment to finish entering something before he looks over his shoulder. You offer the cylinder to him flat across your palms, like a knight offering a loyal blade, which you hope is both funny and at least a little charming.

It doesn't work. He's still looking at you. You wave it in front of him instead, resisting the urge to waggle your eyebrows. The helmet drops to consider the cylinder, then you. "I'd forgotten I had that. Where did you find it?"

You stop, hands still outstretched. "Forgot-- your crate in the cargo bay, but... is this what I think it is?"

Mando can't raise his own eyebrows at you, but his chin twitches upward in the way you've learned to interpret is the same thing. "Do you think it's a cock sleeve? Because it is."

"Is that what you call it?"

"I've always been less concerned about what to call it than how to use it," he says. He's fully turned to face you now. The conversation is not going as you imagined. You flush and he gives you an appraising look, taking in your half-undressed state.

"Isn't that... Against your Creed?" How does he do this. How does he always turn the tables. How is it you're the one quailing under the calm scrutiny of his helmet. You'd meant this as a good-natured ribbing, not a come-on, but suddenly you're picturing what you were decidedly not thinking about earlier - Mando, years ago, alone in his rack or fresh from a hunt, with his beskar still on and his arming jacket rucked up, screwing the toy down onto himself with his fist. The thought makes heat pool between your legs. It also makes you a little melancholy. Suddenly you want to fuck him and hold him in equal measure.

"You weren't always here, you know," he says calmly, honest and unembarrassed as he is shockingly honest and unembarrassed about everything to do with sex. He reaches for you, captures your wrists, pulls you further into the cockpit and down into his lap. You thrill as always at his casual possessiveness, his desire to be close. At the breadth of his shoulders under your hands. "The Creed isn't against pleasure, only distraction. Sometimes it's more distracting to make your body suffer than to give it what it wants."

"Like me?" you ask. It's a joke that once would have stung, an echo of your first night together - you are nothing to me but a distraction from my work - but it's an old wound, long since rubbed over by the smooth edges of time and shared affection.

An amused huff through the modulator. "Like you," he agrees, and though the helmet dampers every inflection you now know, where once you only imagined, the statement is fond.

***

You'd been traveling together for months, a reluctant passenger paired with an unhappy custodian. It had been weeks since the first time the tension between you rose to the breaking point, pulling his hands to you like a gravity well. You were now fucking the Mandalorian regularly, enthusiastically, and, at least to you, inadequately. Regardless of how well you took him, how perfectly he fit when he slicked and stretched his way into you, your heart hammered the same rhythm: no room, no room. His attitude toward you had made that abundantly clear. There was no room for you in his life, on his ship, in his Creed. You were his... distraction. That's all.

You mostly ignored it. When you were working or hunting, you barely thought about it. You pushed the thought down and stored it away to keep from slicing yourself on its sharp edges. But there were moments when it pressed forward again, tumbling out of the drawer of your heart in disarray. The Mandalorian was behind you or over you or under you and you were crying out the name you knew him by even as your blood rushed in your ears demanding more. Not more sex, not more of the heavy punch of his hips against you or the feeling of his hands in your hair, but more of him. You wanted him. You wanted everything.

You wanted to know what it kriffing meant when he called you his distraction.

And sometimes, after you had been fucked within an inch of your life and left lying on your bunk or still pressed against the weapons locker, it hurt a breathtaking amount.

You were pretty sure the Mandalorian was not unaware of how he affected you. Beyond that first epithet which became routine, he was not intentionally cruel. Away from the heat that flared between you and his resentment at his own inability to ignore it, he was considerate and distant and respectful. Unfailingly polite. You loathed every moment of it with a growing bitterness that threatened to replace food and sleep. It reminded you of the time you'd run into a recruiter after she’d turned you down for a job. Sorry kid, you had your chance to convince me and you blew it. Except Mando, being Mando, had never given you a chance at all.

It was worse when you fucked. For weeks, you had resolved over and over to put an end to his careful handling of you. Better an angry rebuttal or cold silence than... whatever this pitiful halfway connection was. Next time he approached you with that weight in his step or crowded you into a corner, too close, you would force his hand. You knew that was the time to do it, when you had his full attention and the bargaining chip of your body. You'd seize his wandering gaze and stare into the helmet: "Why do you call me a distraction?"

You had told yourself this a dozen times. But his practiced fingers were already slipping inside you and all you could do was whine as his modulated voice, sounding not quite human, breathed a word that meant nothing to you in your ear: Mesh'la, mesh'la, mesh'la.

***

You had entreated him to show you how he used it, before you joined his crew. Before, as he drily puts it while running a gloved hand up your thigh and teasing along the waistband of your shorts, he had a far superior array of options. Now you're mostly naked in the dim light, seated between his spread legs, his helmet tipped against the headrest as he leans back. You're watching the arched column of his throat, watching his gloved fingers wrapped around the cylinder and most of all, watching his thick cock disappear into the plush expanse of the toy. He's hard but not fully erect, probably because you refused to touch him until you got to see him touch himself. Not that you needed to threaten - you both know that Din, and it's Din now, in the privacy of the cockpit with both of you partially undressed and warmth radiating from him, will deny you nothing where his body is concerned. Except, of course, his face.

His cock is stirring to full attention, and you suspect it has more to do with your rapt gaze on him than his own ministrations. It's a novelty for you to watch him for once. The way you two fuck, he normally has the better view, pulling back to see your cunt swallow his length and hear you moan in gratitude. He likes to watch you touch yourself while you're speared on him, chasing your own orgasm as you clench. He likes to see your thighs tremble when you ride him, and your face when he makes you come too much. "One more, mesh'la, one more for me, let me see you," he'll croon, as one hand worships your sore clit and the other bats away your arm as you try to bury your face in the crook of your elbow. Din likes to watch anything that shows him how good he makes you feel.

Your Mandalorian might be on to something, you decide. Watching certainly has its appeal. You can hear the soft slide of the toy, see the tension in his forearms and his stomach even through his tunic, his breath through the helmet fast but even. He looks gorgeous like this, a warrior half-undone for your enjoyment. You slide the palms of your hands up his thighs and run them lightly along the bare skin peeking through where he's partially shucked himself of armor and clothing. His breathing alters a little, hitching as your skin makes contact with his.

"How does it feel?" you ask, watching the steady rise and fall of the cylinder. You idly trace a finger up his groin and along the sensitive skin just under his sack. He hisses, and you twitch in response to the noise you know so well, your cunt giving a little spasm as if to remind you of its needs.

After a moment, Din answers your question. "Tight, but not warm. Better than nothing but... Like a ration bar when I have a meal right in front of me," he adds pointedly, and one booted foot slides between your folded knees, leather rubbing along the seam of your sex to make his point clear. "I like that you like looking at me, but we could have bought a mirror instead. I could be fucking you in front of it right now."

Your cheeks warm as you think about it: Din, arching over your back, holding your chin, making you watch your own face as he nudges the head of his cock into you. You don't know how you'd feel staring at yourself like that, but your cunt twitches again, letting you know that more important parts of you fully approve of the concept. The helmet has dropped back down. He's observing your reaction. You file the idea away for later. "I like seeing you like this, though. Did you really never use it after you met me?"

A chuckle. "Oh, I used it. Before... when you were first here. I used it so much I think I did permanent damage."

A little shiver of heat winds up from the base of your spine. This is new information. But he's not done. "Which is why I should be allowed to show you how much I appreciate you, not this plastic junk." He makes a show of slowing down, grinding up into the toy and letting out an exaggerated groan. You know he's still watching you closely, waiting for his cue.

You give him a wicked grin. "Sometimes... it's more distracting to make your body suffer than give it what it wants." Din groans for real in response, but you have other things on your mind. "Back before... when you... were you thinking of me?"

He makes an uninterpretable noise. "Oh no, mesh'la, I wasn't thinking of you. Only of your hips. And your hair. And your tits. And your ass. And your cunt, and if I could get you wet for me, and what that pretty mouth would look like around me, and how you'd sound when I put my cock down your throat."

"... Fuck," you say breathlessly. What started as a flutter has become an aching, empty pulse. "Fuck, Din," and you lean forward, bringing your face almost close enough to nuzzle where he's still sheathed in the toy, breathing in his scent. It has the unintended effect of driving the tip of his boot further into you, a solid mass pushing on the thrumming bundle of nerves between your legs.

When you first started doing this, he said very little to you. You could read nothing in his body except desire and frustration, both of which he extinguished in the furnace of your sex. Later, after Mos Eisley, when anger was no longer the single note of your shared existence, he talked to you constantly. The man of few words outside the ship became the man of many words when he was buried inside you. He told you what he was going to do to you, what he wanted to do to you, how good you felt and what you did to him. He talked like he was trying to construct a gilded cage of words you wouldn't fly away from. You had been dumbfounded by the change, shy and unsure, unable to find a way to reassure him you had already stooped to his lure. Part of you was afraid that if he knew the truth - that you'd have him any way he wanted, silent or talkative or babbling in Tuskan sign - he would stop. He hadn't, but the stream had slowed. More deliberate, less frantic. Somehow even more indecent.

He's being indecent right now, timing the strokes of the toy with his words. "I wanted you every morning and twice at night." Down. "I couldn't think - could barely shoot straight." Back up. "I wanted to bend you over the crates and fuck you until you felt the same." A slow slide back down. "Fill you up with me until you cried, until you knew you were mine, until that sweet cunt wouldn't want anyone else." Up, until just the tip of him is still out of sight. He's losing his even tone, the modulator turning gasps into static. "And then I did fuck you, and it got so much worse. You let me pull you open and put my cock in the hottest, wettest place in the galaxy and-- are you really going to come on my boot instead of letting me fuck you?"

You come to with a little start, pulled aware by the abrupt shift in subject. There's dampness under you, and you realize you've been rocking back and forth on his boot, rubbing the folds of your cunt against the worn leather, and moaning into his lap while he talks. It feels so good to be here, sitting at his feet as he strokes himself for you, hearing the jagged details of your shared past transformed by pleasure. The scruff of the boot against you, the bite of a seam into your tenderest flesh, the smell - steel and old smoke and hot sand - so uniquely Mandalorian it has you panting for him.

"Din," you breathe. "Stop -- stop. I want to feel you."

That's all it takes. The toy is gone in an instant, he's off the pilot's chair and dragging you upright and his half-bare hips are against yours, crowding you into the console. His cock is painfully hard against you, already smeared with precum and the lubricant that makes someone of his size using a toy like that even possible. You realize with dizzy delight that this is going to be one of those times where he fucks you without preamble, pushing his way in, making you feel every inch of his invasion. The pleasurable burn of your cunt adjusting to his girth will be revenge for making him use the toy - a revenge he knows you will enjoy.

More leather, this time at your mouth. The feel of his glove as he curls his fingertips under your chin. "Spit," he commands, and you do.

"Good girl. Now turn around."

***

It was after the first time he'd had you in the cockpit that you'd found the courage to ask. It had already been one of the worst days of your life, what more was there to lose? You were so numb there was no cliff you wouldn't jump off, no risk you wouldn't take. If you asked and the answer was indifference, well, it was just one more pain to add to the litany: your cracked lips, your shredded feet, your bruised ribs, your bloodied hands. And soon, maybe, your broken heart.

Mando had left, as he always did, after you were done, leaving you on the steel floor mostly naked and entirely without the desire to stand on your own. You told yourself that you would simply sleep there, if you had to, rather than getting back up on your cut soles. After all, you'd slept in worse places recently. Though you'd meant it to be fierce the thought sounded pathetic even to you.

The sound of boots climbing up the ladder interrupted your self-pity. Mando had not only come back, he had come back with a box: the medkit he kept in a crate in the cargo bay. He knelt beside you on the floor and started to lift you to him, one hand on your back and one hand under your knees. It was close and familiar in the worst possible way, like the fuck wasn't, and you made a hoarse inhuman noise and tried to kick him. You slammed a broken toe into a beskar vambrace instead and then you screamed for real.

He was patient with you and you hated it with every aftershock of white-hot rage in your body. You struggled even once he managed to get you up in his arms. After a bad moment where you thought you might actually try to bite him, he stopped attempting to haul you down the ladder and dropped both of you into the pilot's chair abruptly instead, pulling his hands away like you'd burned him. "Hey, it's me, just me, the one who's on your side," he'd said, attempting a touch of humor, and strangely it was the buzz of the modulator, so unlike the voices you'd been hearing for the past few days, that had incrementally slowed your galloping heart.

The medkit was in reach and at first he was gentle but even that was too much. You pulled away without leaving the chair, putting distance between you and that damned helmet. All you wanted was to rest, except you were afraid of what you might have time to think about if you did. There was a tense minute as he resumed his work with gauze and tape and bacta spray, but even in your exhausted state you somehow felt him make the decision to stop trying to be tender. He took your cue and bandaged you with impersonal efficiency, like you were a soldier in his regiment or a fellow Mandalorian. It made his touch tolerable, and you were so tired you almost resented him for it.

By the time he was done, you were nearly asleep. You heard the click of the medkit closing and, calmer now, a little more returned to yourself, braced for him to lift you down the ladder. But he surprised you by making no move to get up, resting his hands on his legs, around you but not on you. You could tell he was waiting for something but not what. Maybe it was something from you, but you were all out of give. It was his turn.

Another moment of silence, then momentary confusion as you both spoke at once:

"I have to tell you so--"

"Mandalorian, why are you--"

He stopped. You pressed on. "Why are you always calling me a distraction?" Your tone was flat. You sounded like you could be asking about the price of power cells.

The helmet twisted. This was clearly not the direction he expected your post-coital, post-triage conversation to take. "Because you're distracting."

You thought anger might be the only thing keeping you upright. "Not good enough. What the fuck are we even doing here? Why did you come after me? You told me we were done, that you didn't owe me anything. You could have left me there and pocketed the bounty for yourself. They would have let me go once they convinced themselves I didn't have the information.” A lie, but he doesn’t need to know that. “That doesn't sound like I'm just a distraction."

"I said you're distracting, and you are. That's different." You were sure he was being pedantic but your tired brain couldn't keep up with Mando at his most evasive. "You're not just a distraction. I don't make a habit of coming back for-- distractions."

Coming back for was a polite euphemism for the amount of killing Mando had done in the past few hours. None of it mattered to you if he was doing it because of his damned Creed. Maybe none of it mattered at all. Maybe you had kept your mouth shut for nothing. Your chest hurt and you had no idea if it was because of your ribs or because of your heart. You kept going.

"It makes no difference if I'm a distracting fuck or something worth coming back for or a kriffing bantha, Mando. I'm still..." Exhaustion made you blunt. "I'm still against your Creed."

He made a noise that could have been agreement, or negation. "The Creed is not against pleasure. Or companionship. Only... distractions." He sounded like he was reading out of a textbook. You'd heard it all before. You had wrung everything out of him you could about his Creed, because you wanted to find somewhere to fit. That was all he'd ever said.

He surprised you again. "Distraction is a-- it's not easy to describe. It's not as simple as wasting time or effort. Distractions are... things that pull you from your orbit without returning value, like a comet disrupting a planet's path around a sun. Too many and you begin to drift away from the tribe, the Creed, the things that make you a Mandalorian. You lose yourself chasing what streaks past you, already gone."

That little speech was probably the most words you'd ever heard Mando say at once, and there was too much there for you to process in your wasted state. You latched on instead to the thing that seemed most personally insulting, given how you'd been spending your time the past few days. "Maker, Mando, do you think that's all I am, a comet? That you'll turn around one day and I'll be gone? Do you think I did-- what I did– what we did– for fun? Do you think that's all you are to me?"

There, you had said it. Or at least implied it. Your cortisol response gave one last death rattle and suddenly you found you could sit up a little straighter, could feel your pulse in your throat. Your feet ached.

There was a long silence. 

Then the Mandalorian sighed, and in that sigh was more defeat than you'd ever heard after a hunt gone wrong. The sound seized you and squeezed your breath as it stuttered in your chest. When he spoke, it was low, tired, and edged with brutal honesty. "No mesh'la. I don't think you're a comet. Not after... today."

And that, somehow, was what did you in: his surrender. The first acknowledgement of what you had endured for him and what you'd done together and what it meant between you. You dropped your face into the filthy duraweave of Mando's shoulder, not caring if you caught the edge of beskar beside it. Something boiled up in you and you weren't sure what it was, only that you snapped your mouth closed hard over a noise like being struck and fisted your hands in his tunic. All the fear you'd put aside came slamming in, the torrential wave presaged by an empty beach. You drove yourself as close as possible to your Mandalorian and shook as though a blaster bolt had found its home in your brain after all.

When you knew where you were again, you found you had shifted - or he had shifted you. You were curled between his legs, your arms still around his neck, your face against where his cheek would be in the cruel parody of a kiss. You froze for a moment, anticipating the helmet to feel hostile against your lips, but it was only Mando, the smooth silver of him that you'd come to know and expect. With sudden resolve you drew back an inch or two, away from the spot where your  mouth left a sliver of fog. Your heart beat in your ears, marching steadily onward toward its inexorable conclusion. You had always known what you needed to do for both your sakes', and now you even thought you knew the bargain that could make it bearable.

"Mando," you whispered. "If that's the way it is, I wouldn't... I would never ask you to go against your Creed. I couldn't."

The warrior under you was so still you feared he might not respond at all. Then he blew out another long breath and put his hands around your waist, impossibly solid against you. It was the second time that night he'd reached for you with gentleness and, leaning against him, you could nearly imagine what it would be like to feel safe again. It would have been so easy to sink into shared delusion. But you owed him something more.

"I couldn't," you said again. "You couldn't. We could never-- it would never be right between us. I don't want that." You were certain you were crying by then, silent tears racing down your cheeks. "But please... I'm not ready yet. I'll leave tomorrow. Please, please... just give me tonight."

The hands on your waist spasmed, gripping you so hard that for one deranged instant you thought he might throw you down on the steel and fuck you all over again. He did the opposite and hauled you painfully upright, stood you in the tight space between his knees and the console. You winced when your abused feet took your weight. His own posture and the set of his shoulders told you absolutely nothing. He was still holding you like a lifeline.

"No," he said. After everything you'd done it was absurd that one word could make you want to crumple to the floor again, but you stayed upright, nails digging into the console for support. "I won't give you just tonight. I know you. You walked into that warehouse for me. You were so afraid for me you couldn't be afraid for yourself. You bled-- you killed-- because you hoped it would buy me time. I know you. Now you're offering– this. I refuse. You're not a Mandalorian, but your courage puts ours to shame. Who would I be if I returned your loyalty so little of my own?"

"Mando, what are you saying?" You were so numb with exhaustion that you weren't sure you had it in you to hope. You tried to keep your gaze steady, but you knew your eyes were wet.

"Stay with me," he said quietly. You did crumple then, your knees turned to water, and only his grip still on you kept you standing. "Stay with me, and let me prove my honor to you."

"Yes," you breathed, and that was all he needed. He hauled you to him, pulling you down, until your chest was pressed to him as he ran his gloves frantically over your neck, your shoulder blades, your hips. You rested your forehead against his, against the blood-warm beskar, and waited. You wanted nothing more than the feeling of his hands on you but you were so tired. "Will... will the tribe understand?"

A pause. He slowed, but did not stop, tracing soothing heat across your body. The blank faceplate tipped up to gaze out at the desert night. "Some will. Some won't. It doesn't matter. How I feel about you can't be against the Creed any more than my helmet. You can't turn a thing against itself." His head was still turned away, looking past the canopy to the starless sky outside. "You aren't a distraction from my Creed, mesh'la, and you never have been. You're part of it. You make me a better... a better Mandalorian."

His hesitation did not go unnoticed. You heard what he didn't say: a better man.

***

The problem with having sex in the cockpit is that when you want - no, need - to lay down afterward there isn't quite room for both of you between the chairs. Also, the floor is that textured, anti-slip steel they use for gantries, which pokes uncomfortably into bare flesh. You end up squashed together, half on top of your Mandalorian, letting his still partially-armored back take the worst of your combined weight as you roll on to your side and throw one leg over him, pillowing your head on his pauldron. It's not ideal, but after the three orgasms he pulled out of you with as much dedication as he'd ever chased down a bounty, you don't really have a choice. Going down the ladder in your current state might actually be the thing that kills you.

Din is still breathing hard from his own climax, sought only after he'd made you so sensitive that he'd had to put a callused palm over your mouth to keep you from shrieking and waking the Child. He'd started, as you thought he would, by pulling off your flimsy shorts and shoving the thick head of his cock into you with no preparation other than telling you to bend over the console and stay quiet. You'd cooperated, knowing that the position put his mouth conveniently close to your ear, and were rewarded with that smooth modulated voice telling you he was going to make sure you never made him use a toy again, never want his cock in anything but you. He told you he was going fuck you so thoroughly you'd beg for him to let you come on his cock. He'd started rough, his pace matching the coarseness of his words, and you'd bitten down your whimpers at the stretch. 

But Din knew you far too well to let you off so lightly. Fast had turned to slow and deep, caging your hips with one forearm while skillful fingers lightly circled your clit, never giving you quite enough pressure to get you where you ached to go. Then you had begged, and he'd almost given in: pulled out of you abruptly, replacing his cock with three fingers after ripping off his gloves. You'd come so hard Din had groaned at the feeling of you clenching around him, your legs trembling uncontrollably, but even that wasn't what you were hoping for and he knew it. He'd coaxed you to a second orgasm by turning you around and crudely shoving his knee between your legs, making you ride the textured cuisse on his thigh. He'd insisted you work for it, rubbing yourself against him and leaving streaks of arousal on the beskar, and that was less satisfying still. Only after you'd gotten yourself off did he ask you what you wanted, and by then you were so needy, so desperately raw and sex-drunk, that all you could do was whine, "You-- please, Din-- you." The sound of his name seemed to shred whatever last bit of composure he had left, and he'd pressed into you harder than ever as your hand dropped to provide the friction you'd needed. You'd come apart with him buried deep, your cunt gripping him like a vise, and he'd followed not long after, your name on his lips as his cock twitched and softened in you.

The nice thing about steel floors, you decide, is that they're easy to clean. You can feel Din dripping out of you and you're pretty sure you're going to leave a wet spot. You’re also pretty sure that the cylinder rolled under one of the consoles and is still jammed there, but that's a problem for later. You pull yourself even closer to him, enjoying his warmth in the shared quiet, watching the strange false light of hyperspace dance outside the canopy.

You don't notice that Din’s turned his helmet to you until he speaks. “Another 26 hours and then we’re off this boat.” He sounds relaxed, pleased both with your current configuration of tangled limbs and the prospect of no longer being confined to the ship. “Felucia is a jungle world. Plenty of frogs for the womp rat to chase.”

You grin. “Or eat. How long are we staying? Are we dropping in somewhere civilized or staying off the radar? And who are we even after? You didn’t show me the puck yet.”

“Off the radar, and this one’s a solo job.” You start to protest, but he stops you. “Really. The contact says he’s holed up in a cave in the middle of nowhere. We’ll set down in the nearest open spot, then it’s half a day overland to the hideout. No point in you coming, nothing for you and the kid to do but get wet and feed the gnats.”

After space travel, a hike doesn’t sound unpleasant, but you know he’s right. There’s no reason to go to the extra trouble of packing supplies for two more when it’s a straightforward retrieval. At least you and the Child will get to explore your landing site. You can do your work outside in the open air, and if all goes well, Din will only be gone a day or two.

“Hey,” you say softly. “You’ll come back, right?” It’s only half a serious question. You trust your Mandalorian. You’ve trusted his competence and drive and ability since the moment you met him, and have learned to trust that his desire to return to you is real. Still, you always ask. It’s a private ritual between you, something soft built over top of hard truths. 

You think of the times he’s left you. To work a job or on a hunt or sometimes just for the cold, hard recesses of his mind where you cannot touch him. Once, although you try not to remember it, for a black and shaking depression that terrified you both. Most of all, you think of that night, on Mos Eisley. The crunch of sand under his boots as he turned away. The glimpse of beskar through the door. The feeling of his hands on your battered ribs. His voice, very tired, I don't make a habit of coming back for distractions.

"Of course I’ll come back, mesh'la." You’ll never not thrill to Din’s electronic baritone calling you beautiful. "How could I do anything else? You're part of my Creed."

***

series masterlist

[wikimb]

Devil Trigger 3.0 for Michael!

A 3rd attempt at designing his DT since 2021 when I made Michael (or rather revived and remade/fleshed out his character from a DMC fanfiction written in 2019...).

I could explain in length the ideas behind this DT, why such a theme, why so... tall. The ramble includes serious explanation of the origins of demonic powers he has as well. If you like to read about it then just check what's under the cut.

Below you have some drawings of his face and also his brother's (name's Gabriel) reaction to his DT form. Michael was more scared of Gabriel's reaction than he actually was and the relief he felt was quite overwhelming.

More in depth below. It includes links to the 2 older versions of his DT for fun comparison.

The theme of his DT is very birdy. The first time I designed his DT it was rather heavily inspired by pre-existing DT designs of our main characters. Nothing wrong with it but it didn't stand out and I also never really vibed with it. It didn't help that I had no experience with any kind of monster design to begin with. I still kinda don't but I can see I got slightly better seeing the 3rd version of his DT. You can check my 1st and 2nd attempts here.

Anyway there are a bit more specific reasons why it's so birdy-looking or angelic-looking (and not just because of his name). Michael was born a human in a family, which was never exposed to anything demon-related. They didn't know demons existed (to a degree... when it comes to his father but I think that'd deserve a separate post as his backstory is a bit wild and how it affected Michael in the end).

As a teenager he got lured into a cult and manipulated into abandoning his family eventually. He didn’t know how evil the cult was and didn't even realize they were a cult to begin with.

It was a cult worshipping Mundus with a leader being one his generals. Her name was Lilith and she was great at making Michael feel that she truly cared for him like a mother figure. She manipulated him into believing his family didn't care for him. Sadly, it was all a game and ever since he escaped the cult, he deals with a lot of guilt and regret. He is not sure if they're even still alive... and if they're dead... what if it's his fault?

The cult's purpose was to turn humans into demons, who would serve Mundus. To ensure that they were forced to undergo a ritual stripping them of all of their humanity, their human personality and replace all of that with Mundus overwhelming power. The power, which was great but taking away all of their free will they could have. These people were technically demons at this point. If the ritual failed then it was usually fatal. Thing is, the ritual was a stolen concept from the time when Lilith infiltrated Fortuna's Order of the Sword. In a way she influenced Agnus to come up with such a ritual, then she took the idea and modified it a bit.

Michael's case could be qualified as a failed ritual after, which he should have died but the amount of demonic power he received was not big enough to kill him (because human body would be able not to handle more) but instead keep him alive. And as a result it continued transforming/mutating him into a demon-hybrid like Dante or Vergil, but artificial.

Even if using demoning powers was causing various unpleasant side effects for him but with each use, it hurt less and less. He was reluctant to use his powers actively, fearing that they could make him loose his humanity. He still used the passive abilities such as sensing demon magic.

After certain events he unlocked his Devil Trigger. As a side note I do have 2 ideas for what these moments were but for now I am not sure which one is better.

Anyway, yes, Michael underwent a modified version of Ascension Ceremony! That's why he has such an angelic look, just like the guys from Fortuna. The demonic powers are originating from Mundus but failed to take away his free will, his personality, his humanity, his memories. In other words, he is the same like before - just juiced up with Mundus power (which he is afraid to use anyway). Certainly a result which a Demon Lord would actually hate to find out about as it has a potential to backfire. Not like he has to "worry" about three Sparda descendants already. But if you saw Mundus himself, he also looks rather angelic too. Or at least that "statue form" if that orange weird blob is meant to be really him.

Compared to DTs already seen, he is quite massive. I think it can be simply a feature of Mundus power, in which Devil Trigger state makes one much larger than in human form. Mundus is a titan-sized demon himself, while Sparda was shown to be rather human sized. Heh, maybe if Michael had Sin Devil Trigger form then he could be Mundus-sized.

Though, Michael has the ability to go Berserk (but it's not controlled by his will and it triggers under strong distress), which enhances his power in human form and in DT form. It manifests as blue fire instead of orange fire. Maybe Berserk DT can get this big maybe. Could wrestle demons like Goliath then xD

[coraniaid]

I think there's something fascinating about the evolution of Darla as a character in the Buffyverse.

It's very common in the Buffy fandom to talk about the show almost as if it were fully planned out from the beginning or somehow emerged fully-formed one day in its entirety.  To analyze Season 1 episodes as if the writers had already decided on the Heart/Mind/Spirit symbolism of the core Scooby Gang; to act as though a Season 5 retcon means that Spike was really in love with Buffy as early as Season 3's Lovers Walk; to suggest the constant changes in how the show deals with soul lore or vampires as a metaphor must mean that Giles and the Council were 'really' lying or ignorant in the first few seasons; to wonder what the Watchers Council introduced in Season 3 were doing in the show's first two seasons; to insist you can't really understand Season 1 until you've finished Season 7.

And, look, I totally get the temptation to do that sort of thing.  It's unavoidable if you want to talk about the universe of the show as a real thing in its own right, or try to write fanfiction that takes every season seriously.  It can be a useful and interesting way of thinking about the show.  I've done it myself and will no doubt keep doing it.

But at the same time, it's very misleading if you want to think about the show as a constructed work of collaborative art: as a piece of fiction in constant conversation with itself, shaped and reshaped again and again over years by a team of different people.  Which, to be clear, is what it actually is.

The real show is almost a piece of improv or some sort of conjuring act, with the writers and actors constantly juggling with new ideas and twists without any time to worry about how exactly everything fits together. With some episodes reportedly being written in only a handful of days and lore being continually changed and ignored as fits the current demands of the plot.  Questions like "how does soul lore really work?" or "after Prophecy Girl who is the real Slayer anyway?" ultimately can't be answered, because there simply is no single truth to uncover.  It depends entirely on the current episode.

And I think the ever-changing character of Darla provides the best illustration of that reality.

In the original unaired pilot, Julie Benz plays an unnamed vampire who is nonetheless pretty easy to identify with the Darla we'll see in the show proper.  She has no links to Angel or Luke or the Master, because none of these characters even exist yet.  Just like in Welcome to the Hellmouth, she lures an unsuspecting victim into the high school after dark before vamping out and killing him, but by the end of the episode she is dead: gruesomely dispatched (or as gruesomely as the pilot's limited special effects budget allowed) after Willow douses her with holy water.

The two parter Welcome to the Hellmouth / The Harvest expands on her role slightly.  She has a name now, for one thing. She works for the Master, too, but she doesn't at all seem to be his favorite (she's very much subordinate to Luke in both these episodes), and there's no suggestion that she has any special connection to Angel.  (Unsurprisingly, as the show's writers hadn't even decided to make Angel a vampire at this point.)  And her ultimate fate at the end of this two-parter is unclear: just as in the pilot, Willow soaks her with holy water, and then she's ... gone?  Nobody mentions her again, she's not in scenes with the Master in later episodes which logically she should be. I'm pretty sure that, just like in the pilot, we're meant to assume she's dead.

But then Darla gets her first big break.  Angel is, it turns out, a vampire, and he needs some backstory to match.  Julie Benz obviously made a decent enough impression in the first couple of episodes, and nothing she did or said quite ruled her out as Angel's sire, and we never quite see her die. So suddenly she's back,  now the Master's favorite vampire, attacking Buffy's mother in her own home and sowing the seeds of mistrust between Buffy and Angel and ... oh, she's dead again.  Bummer.

Except then in Season 2 Angel's role expands again -- he's not just Buffy's intermittently seen vampire boyfriend anymore, he's the focus of the whole season and he's going to appear in all but one episode.  Of course, he's going to need more backstory (and we're all going to be treated to David Boreanaz's best Irish accent) so ... once again Darla rises from the ashes, albeit this time only in flashbacks.  And the Darla we see in Becoming's flashbacks is once again an evolution of the character we last saw in Season 1's  Angel.  More confident, more complex.  A character that it is honestly difficult to reconcile with the take on the character we saw last season, especially the one we swa in the show's first two episodes.

Anyway, Angel gets sent to hell in Season 2, but not before managing to (somehow) act his way into his own spin-off series.  And yes, that means more flashbacks, and more Darla, and more retcons about the precise nature of her relationship with the Master, but ultimately it means the writers decide to bring Darla back from the dead at the end of the spin-off's first season (for, depending on exactly you count it, arguably the fourth time, though only the first in-universe).  And this iteration of Darla -- both the human Darla we see in the beginning of Angel's second season, and the vampire she becomes again later that season -- is arguably the closest thing there is to a definitive take on the character.  This is the Darla people mean when they talk about her on the show.  Not the mid-level vampire of Welcome to the Hellmouth or the essentially single episode villain of Season 1's Angel, but the real deal.  Darla at her most complicated and rich and alive, a Darla whose history is hopelessly entangled with that of her on-again, off-again lover Angel, a character who provides the driving force for the spin-off show's greatest season.  A character who is, I think, one of the most  interesting to ever appear on that show.

Then the last few episodes of Season 2 completely drop Darla and all trace of the arc she introduced. When she reappears next season (in just a handful of episodes) it's so that her character can be written out of the show via mystical and impossible-by-the show's-previous-rules pregnancy in order for men to feel sad about it (but not for very long), and afterwards everything generally goes to shit.

But then, that tells you quite a lot about the Buffyverse and its creators as well.

[writerscafehub]

𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐀: 𝐋𝐢𝐳

@avengers-resident-idiot

From one to five stars, how would you rate your writing? (No downplaying yourself!)

About a 3 I think, I hav𖤓 liz 𖤓en’t written anything in a while because I’ve been busy with work and school. I struggle with actually finishing anything, I swear my drafts is a graveyard of WIPs. Once I get done with my finals I plan to actually try and sit down and actually write a fic or at the very least headcanons

2. What do you think makes your writing stand out from other works?

I feel like my writing is very self indulgent, I fantasize for literal days or weeks about what I personally would want to happen and imagine myself as the reader in the fic and just run with it. I have tried a few times to write an idea that a friend gives me and I just struggle cause I get stuck in my own head wondering if I’m writing it how they personally would want it.

3. Are there any writers that inspire you?

Literally everybody in the server, the fact that y'all are so imaginative and are so motivated to write fics on a consistent basis never fails to amaze me, I am on my knees begging for a crumb of the kind of motivation y’all got. 

4. What’s the fic you’re most proud of? 

Honestly probably the very first fic I ever wrote, which was a Zayn Malik fanfiction (I was a HUGE One Direction fan…honestly I still am). It was terrible, and so ridiculously cringey but to middle school me, I was the next Shakespeare  and was just proud that I actually wrote something and put it on the internet for the world to see and I regret nothing. 

5. Which character(s) do you find easiest to write and which do you find most difficult to write? 

The easiest is probably Peter Parker cause he’s such a sassy little shit and I love him. The hardest is probably Dr. Spencer Reid, I’ve tried before and I just can’t get his mannerisms right. 

6. Who or what do you find yourself writing about most?

I feel like my most of my wips are friends to lovers with misunderstandings galore 

7. Tell us about a WIP you’re excited about!

I’ve been planning this fic out in my head for the past month, idk for sure what I’m gonna call it, but it’s gonna be an Evan “Buck” Buckley x reader fic, I’m considering adding Eddie Diaz into the mix cause honestly it’s what we deserve. Basically the reader is going to open up a bakery across from the fire station and our lovely firefighters can’t resist the smell of warm bread and coffee in the morning so they go and meet Reader (considering giving her a nickname) who is dancing to 80’s music and may or may not be covered in flour, and from there hijinks, first dates, and love confessions ensue. 

8. First fandom you ever wrote for?

One Direction and I regret nothing

9. Any guilty pleasure trope(s)?

Ooo  misunderstandings that can be easily resolved if they JUST TALK, found family tropes almost always make me cry, fake dating never fails to make me laugh because the characters never think it through and I love that for them with that being said idiots to lovers is another big one, especially if they share exactly one brain cell. 

10. A trope you’ll never, ever write for.

Probably anything dark, nothing wrong with dark fics, I just don’t think I’d ever be able to write a dark fic well enough where it was actually understandable or good for that matter.

11. Wildest fic you’ve ever written?

Another One Direction fanfiction, but this time Liam Payne, it's since been deleted but basically gang leader!Liam and the reader were highschool sweethearts and broke up cause Liam betrayed her, if i remember right he gets her brother arrested? Years later she comes back to town and is part of an all girls gang and Liam's gang (One Direction) start fighting over territory, there were drunken confessions, a secret child, and attempted kidnappings and literally every other chapter one of them almost died. Middle school me was very proud of it.

12. Favorite pairing to write for? (platonic or romantic!)

Steve Rogers x innocent!reader, knight!Bucky x princess!Reader, Evan “Buck” Buckley x reader

13. Do you listen to anything while you write?

Yes, I have so many playlists, everytime I get an idea for a fic I run to Spotify and immediately create a new one and add songs that fit the vibe I’m going for, doesn’t matter what genre or language so long as I think it fits it gets added to the playlist.

14. One-shots or multi-chaptered works?

Definitely both, I am not picky whatsoever. 

15. Have you ever daydreamed about side adventures/spin-offs from your fic? Tell us about them!

Omg yes, I honestly think this is part of the reason it’s so hard for me to finish writing anything. The second I get a new idea for a fic I start imagining all sorts of different scenarios I could put them in like trips to the zoo, grocery shopping or like the same scenes from the fic, but from another character's point of view. Even if it’s not going to be part of the fic I imagine what the proposal would be like, what their vows would be, or how they'd react to their first child being born. My mind goes a hundred miles a minute when I get a new idea, but the second I sit down to write it out poof all the ideas are gone.

16. Is there anything you’ve wanted to write, but you’ve been too scared to try?

Honestly smut. There are so many talented writers out there who do a great job at writing smut, but whenever I try it just comes out to stiff and doesn’t sound write, so I always end up deleting it 

17. What’s the nicest comment you’ve ever received?

I was once told I was very good at descriptions, they said they could picture the night sky in their mind and it was like they were there. 

18. Have you ever gone outside of your comfort zone for a fic? How did it turn out?

Eh not really, I usually stick to fluff, humor and slight angst, I want to try step out of my comfort zone by writing smut, but it’ll be a while before I post anything 

19. Tooth-rotting fluff or merciless angst?

Oh my gosh how could I possibly choose, most of the time it just depends what kind of mood I’m in but lately it’s been tooth-rotting fluffy with a tiny bit of angst mixed in

20. Do you have any OCs? Tell us about them!

At this point in time I do not have any oc’s, but I’m considering creating one for my Evan “Buck” Buckley fic. 

21. If you could enter the universe of any one of your fics, which would it be and why?

Probably my WIP Knight!Bucky Barnes x Princess!Reader because who wouldn’t want to be protected by an extremely handsome Bucky who acts like you're a nuisance, but would do anything to protect you no questions asked if ever necessary?? And also I just love the idea of running down a castle hallway at night wearing a floor length ball gown.

22. Is there anything you wish your audience knew about your writing or writing process?

Just that my process involves creating the perfect playlist for that specific fic and tons of daydreaming, and while it may take me a long time to finally finish writing, I’m always excited to share it and get feedback!

23. Copy and paste an excerpt you’re particularly fond of. 

This is from my knight!Bucky Barnes x Princess!reader wip                            

“Do you think I am inadequate because I am a female, my Lord? Is that what you’re saying? You think that I am unfit to rule because I'm a little emotional right now?  Well you’re right, I am a little emotional right now. From the moment I was born, it was known that I, and I alone, would be next in line to assume the throne. My entire life was spent preparing for the moment that my reign would begin and I intend to use all the knowledge my father, may God rest his soul, taught me.  Just two weeks ago I watched as they lowered my father’s cold, dead body into the ground and not a week later a crown was placed atop my head…. a crown I thought my father would be giving me.  I am emotional because right now at this very moment there are rebels out there, only God knows where, hatching plans to storm this castle! This castle has stood here for 300 hundred years and I intend for it to stand for many more. I refuse to let the rebels take my country and everything that my family has worked for.  Now, we have much more pressing matters to deal with than your fragile egos, don’t you think my Lords?”

24. Ramble about any fic-related thing you want!

Have fun with writing! Don’t worry about whether or not the idea you want to write has been written before because it most definitely has been, but it’s never been written by you! 

I’m excited to finally be done with my classes and I hope to to write more and post my fics throughout the summer! 

[bellaxgiornata]

Do you have any tips for people who really enjoy writing fanfiction but struggle to actually get themselves to write it? Like I love writing specific scenarios in my head (mainly because that’s what I really want to read but no one else has written that yet) but I struggle to actually just get the motivation to do it, so my ideas just stay in my brain as a “I want to write this” and then the interest dies off and it never gets written.

I completely understand this feeling so much. Before I started writing in the Daredevil fandom I often just daydreamed in-depth scenarios in my head. I usually wanted to write them into stories but then I just...never did it. Even though I have been writing different fanfics in different fandoms for a really long time, I more often than not just created up scenarios that lived in my head and then that was it because I never wrote them down. So nothing ever came of them and I was never able to share them with anyone. I could have written so many more things if I'd just sat down and tried.

(As always, I'm long winded so more below the cut 😅)

In all honesty when this happens, I think the best thing to do is just that. Just sit down in front of a blank document and free write whatever comes to you. Take the pressure off of yourself first and foremost, though--you don't have to share whatever comes out with anyone. Don't tell yourself that it has to be good, either. Have literally zero expectations for whatever ends up on the page. More often than not, that really helps the words start to flow. When you sit there and nitpick how you're starting a sentence or a scene or a word choice, that's when you start second guessing everything and that can often lead to thoughts like "I can't do this" or "no one will read this" or the classic "I suck at this" (which I still hear in my head some days). Ignore all that bullshit and just focus on whatever it is that's in your head--a conversation between some characters, maybe an entire scene you've had playing out in your mind, a fight scene, or whatever it is that you're currently excited about. Just sit down and try to get it out with no expectations. Because you can absolutely always come back to it and edit it up how you want after the fact and make it into a story or a one shot or whatever if you want, but the hardest part is just getting something out on a page.

But truthfully, the only way to write something is to make yourself sit down and do it. I don't know of any other tips to give besides that. Sure, you can make a playlist or a mood board for the vibe of a story or a character. You can make outlines of what you're seeing in your head that'll give you bullet points of what you picture happening. But really you just have to get excited enough about whatever it is that's on your mind and write it. And I think that's part of the beauty of writing fanfic when you do share it and people interact with it. The commentary and interaction from readers is what helps keep the excitement for a story alive for the writer, which then gives us that necessary motivation to keep coming back to work on a story. Because any writer will tell you that sitting down and getting the words out is hard. Some days it sucks and you have to slog through it to keep going, but that's just a part of the process. Over time it becomes a habit, though.

Hopefully any of that somewhat helped, but unfortunately there isn't some magic answer to make it easier to get started. Having other writers to talk to about your ideas really helps, too. Or just someone to talk with/at about whatever is on your mind. Breaking an entire fic idea into chunks chapter by chapter helps if you're making a big story, but just picking a starting point and writing it is your best bet. I actually first wrote the entirety of Marci and Fog's wedding for FFTD and then worked my way backwards afterwards to start that huge ass series. It all started with those two installments and the idea/scene in my head that I didn't get to until "The Breaking Point" far later. So you can absolutely just start with an idea and expand on it. But unfortunately, you kind of just have to force yourself to start somewhere 😅

[glassshard]

Whenever I don’t like a major piece of media I really like to analyze why. Ever since the RLM Star Wars Prequels reviews I’ve found this exercise super helpful. I think it’s even more helpful than analyzing why I love a piece of media, since my heart is a lot more shallow than my head, and will happily latch onto media with all kinds of problems simply because a boy was stabbed in a sexy way or the music was good.

But after ten hours of Baldur’s Gate 3 this weekend, I just had to drop it. I don’t like the game. It charmed me at first with its high production values and its excellent exploration, but my ardour cooled quickly as it began to butt up against my personal predilections. At first it did so in totally subjective ways with its unlovable D&D mechanics. I don’t know D&D and the game did not have any interest in teaching me about it. It just kinda throws you into a system that has no place in a video game in my opinion, full of unnecessary tedium and opaque mechanics. But you know what, that’s just me. Plenty of people love it. I could deal with bad gameplay, I like lots of games that play like crap. Let me sing you a song of the Legacy of Kain series.

But then the story failed to grip me. It’s written like fanfiction, with no explanation for any of the races, proper nouns, or concepts because you’re expected to already know them. I love in media res, but c’mon. Ya know what though? Still just my opinion. Open world games are super popular, lots of people love them. Remember how much you enjoyed Dark Souls? Look at that vampire, keep going. Sure he’s walking around during the day and vampirism in this setting just seems to equate to some Spirit Halloween accessories but it’s fine!

But then! But then! Then that vampire killed my character in a cutscene! And I thought that was GREAT. Unexpected! Finally! The game’s getting good! I’m invested! I’ll need to save scum and reload but-

Wait, I don’t need to? That wasn’t a game over? I can... I can rez my character? My character died in a story cutscene and I can have another character rez them with a scroll? And then... then I can go talk to the vampire because he’s still hanging around? But I can’t even tell the other party members about it? This is... this is not right. This feels objectively not right.

You can’t use a game mechanic to rez a story death. That’s not how this works. That’s like if Cloud had pulled out a phoenix down on Aeris or Corvo just started shoving jellied eels down the dead Empress’ throat. That is deflating the very concept of death in the game. There are no stakes now. Why should I care about anything? Why do people even hate vampires in this world if death can be cleaned up with a square of toilet paper available from any shop?

Still, I pushed on, in a stubborn daze. This was a sixty dollar game, I had to keep trying!

The underwear inventory slots felt juvenile but that’s fine, that’s fine. The character designs are extremely Ren Faire, but no big deal. One of the party members is named after a Care Bear but don’t be superficial, Ashley. I can equip armour I’m not proficient in and the game’s not going to tell me why I shouldn’t, but I’m not going to take it personally. The mind control mechanic is making every interaction feel cheap and silly, and all the parasitized party members feel fake and offputting. It seems very contrived that they’re traveling together, and I don’t understand why my character would remain in the company of ANY of them when he himself knows they have his same mind-control powers and can never be trusted and sometimes the illithid powers are framed as course-altering and sometimes they’re not and nothing is consistent except the cartoonish characterization of the “evil” races but it’s fine, it’s fine, keep going

But then I got to a portion where my character was able to ask a dead Mindflayer questions about the plot. And I realised, sharply: I do not care about the answers. I do not care about this world or this cast or any schemes at play. No immersion will be happening; my suspension of disbelief is irrevocably snapped. This is a Saturday morning cartoon with dicks.

And it all really went back to rezzing that story death. While a lot of my gripes about this game are completely subjective and to do with my own tastes, I think it’s objectively bad design to allow a story death resurrection. It deflated everything for me and I couldn’t recover.

So! I did not like Baldur’s Gate 3, and in my mind my character’s story ended when their trusting nature was exploited by a vampire, and they were killed. But the experience did teach me some interesting things about my own tastes, and what I require to become invested in a video game narrative.

[lilbeanz]

Hi!! I know I've already sent an ask before, but I've read a lot of fics like yours (I don't know if I should call them time travel fics, fix-it fics, both or neither soo-) and I've been inspired to WRITE MY OWN✨✨ problem is i have never written a fanfiction..... ever. So, that leads me to my question. Do you have any tips for a new writer??(if you don't mind me asking of course lol-)

First of all: CONGRATULATIONS🥳🎉✨️

Deciding you want to pursue it at all is the first big step! ✨️

There's never enough time travel fix-it rewrites imo, so the fact that you're thinking one up is excellent news 😈

General advice is:

• Just go for it. You won't know until you try! Write 100 words, and then another 100, and another, and the next thing you know you’re cooking with fire 🔥

• Speaking of fire, don’t burn yourself out!!!! I'm on the Goblet of Fire now, and the word count for that book takes a very dramatic jump up from the Prisoner of Azkaban.

Rewrites are taxing. Long fic can really take it out of you, so know when to pull back, step away, and take care of yourself.

My lovely beans are constantly reminding me to have a cup of hot chocolate or just take care of myself and I greatly appreciate the reminders 💖

And speaking of my lovely beans

You should really check out the comments on this post that I made back when I first started last year because:

THEY'RE SO DARN HELPFUL

This side of the fandom is so incredibly lovely and kind, I'm sure so many will help and support you too 💖

I believe in you, you got this! 💖✨️

[mamadoc]

20 questions for fic writers

Thank you to for tagging me, @thisnightissparkling089 !

1. How many works do you have on Ao3?

I have only written 6 fics on AO3, but I tend to write long chapters and long stories.

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count?

313,810

Pretty good for 7 months, right?

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Only The Rookie. 😎

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Catch of a Lifetime

Snowed In

*Sense* You Know Me So Well

*Sense* You Know Me So Well, Too - The Sequel

The Heimlich

5. Do you respond to comments?

Every comment thread! I love interacting with people who read my stories. I think it's one of the things that makes writing fanfiction so much fun.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I have a few rules in my writing. 1 - Chenford is endgame. 2 - Only happy endings. 3 - No Major Character Death!

My reading and writing affect my mood, and I read to find a little spot of joy and sunshine.

That said, my sequel series, After the Snow Melts, has a lot more angst than my other stories. Although the ending is happy, it's not a perfect resolution of the story.

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

The last (third) chapter of *Sense* You Know Me So Well is so amazingly sweet and fluffy that it would rot your teeth.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Thankfully, no. I've had a few rude requests for me to continue a story, but that's as close as I've gotten. I'm so grateful for the people that leave kind comments on my stories.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

No. I'll write 'spicy' scenes, but nothing I would consider smut or going into M or E categories.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

No. I've considered it, and I've read a few that are great. But I never have.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

As far as I know, I have not.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? 

No. But I have a few frequent commenters on Twitter/X that comment in other languages. I don't know if they read it in English or translate it, but they comment in Spanish, Portuguese, and German.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No. When I first got some story ideas, I reached out to a few writers I admired to see if they would be interested in co-writing the stories with me. None of them were interested. That's when I had to break out my big girl panties and try it by myself. 😂😎 I'm glad I did. It's been such a rewarding hobby.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

Chenford🥰

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

I have several ideas jotted down on my Notes app on my phone. I don't know how many of them will ever be fleshed out and see the light of day.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Hmmm... I'm not sure. I feel like my writing is very descriptive and in character so that the reader can really feel like they're seeing it all play out. At least that's what I hear back from some readers. My stories are also longer, which allows the reader to disappear into that world for longer.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I still feel very new at this and lack some confidence in my writing skills. I've tried my hand at a few action scenes, but I'm not sure they come together as well as the relationship/dialogue scenes. I'm also an older Millennial, so some of the social media aspect of fanfiction and this fandom are new to me.

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

I've done it once. I just used Google translate to get some easy Chinese for Lucy and her mother to have a quick conversation. But I speak French and Korean, so I could potentially add that in sometime in the future. I just don't know how well that would fit into a Chenford story.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

This one. I had never done creative writing in my adult life until 7 months ago, hence my lack of confidence.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

I have really loved writing Catch of a Lifetime. I feel like it's different than a lot of the stories I've read on AO3, but it still has the characters we know and love.

*Sense* You Know Me So Well is my favorite of my shorter stories, particularly chapter 2. It feels very realistic and true to what could have happened in the snow.

And chapter 2 of *Sense* You Know Me So Well, Too - The Sequel is the one I feel like draws on the deepest feelings and most genuine heart of Chenford.

Thanks, ladies! Tagging @makeitastrength and @queseraone and @girlintotv and @chenfordspiral if they're interested in talking about their writing.