#the two stories i decided on so far are the lottery by jackson and oh whistle and i'll come by m. r. james

[terpia]

I've never seen a cough transcribed in this way, but I suppose it works??

[checkoutmybookshelf]

Ok, apropos of my "For You" page being a dear and showing me a ton of posts about not being a dick to people for their ships and as someone who came to fandom spaces AFTER graduate school...

The fact that people are losing their minds over ships and noncon in fic BLOWS MY MIND given the Western Canon and historical examples of shippers. I'm putting a cut here for people who don't want to see the lists of messed up shit I read FOR CLASS, but for those of you who are curious, read on, please.

Oh, and before I forget: If your automatic response to this post is "Yes, but you are talking about GrEaT lItErAtUrE, it has something to say and a historical context to think about," then take a second and work your way out of the gatekeep-y stranglehold that academia has on you. If context and message matter in literature, they matter in fanfics too.

CW for masturbation, noncon, dubcon, historical ship wars, main character death, violence...as many Ao3 Archive warnings as I (or you) can think of. Dead Dove, Do Not Eat.

The TLDR is that I have taken significantly more psychic damage from canonical literature than fanfic, and a stupid high number of canon writers fit the definition of fanfic writer.

So in no particular order, here are some of the truly fucked up things I read for class:

A short story where a teenage boy steals his little sister's Ken doll, tears the head off, and jerks off into the Ken doll until the plastic torso is full. You know of what. (This was in the Scribner Anthology of Contemporary Short Fiction, and I'm pretty sure it was AM Homes's "A Real Doll")

A short story where the reader follows a group of kids at Thanksgiving whose parents are doing a laying on of hands to cure their mother's cancer, and while the kids are unsupervised on a trampoline, one of them is bounced aggressively off and breaks their neck in a fall. (Julie Orringer, "PIlgrims")

"The Rocking-Horse Winner" by DH Lawrence, which is read as a masturbation scene in How to Read Literature Like a Professor by Thomas C. Foster

Every single bed trick in any Shakespeare (or other early modern) play is rape by deception (this occurs in All's Well, Measure for Measure, Much Ado [if you squint], and Two Noble Kinsmen). Bed tricks also occur in the Bible, Chaucer's Canterbury Tales, Boccaccio's The Decameron, and Middleton and Rowley's The Changeling. Other examples include Zeus pretending to be Amphitryon to impregnate Alcemene with Hercules and Uther Pendragon taking Gorlois's place to impregnate Igraine. And this isn't an old, unused trope either, it's used as recently as The Rocky Horror Picture Show and Family Guy

Titus Andronicus has rape and cannibalism in it, plus a metric ton of violence, brutality, and lopping of limbs. Romeo and Juliet has murder and an attempted forced marriage. Shakespeare in general is fairly fucked up the more you read it.

There are a metric ton of rapes given in verse too, including Yeats's "Leda and the Swan" and Ovid's "The Rape of Proserpina". A more modern example is the Broadway show Seven Brides for Seven Brothers

Nabokov's Lolita. 'nuff said.

John Ford's Tis Pity She's a Whore has twincest, graphic violence, and a scene in which the male twincest MC gets pissed off that the female twincest MC sleeps with someone else, so he stabs her through her lady bits so far that when the sword comes out, her heart is spiked on the end of it and he spends the entire next scene running around waving this sword with a human heart on it at people

William Golding's Lord of the Flies has a bunch of kids murdering each other for honestly no particular reason

In Shirley Jackson's "The Lottery," a town gets together every once in a while to randomly draw lots to decide who gets casually stoned to death

In William Faulkner's "A Rose for Emily," an entire goddamn town ignores Emily to the point where when her house smells like her dead, decomposing husband so bad that half the town can smell it, nobody bothers to check in on her. She had been SLEEPING WITH HER DEAD HUSBAND for literal years and nobody cared enough to check on her

Edgar Allen Poe's "The Telltale Heart" and "The Cask of Amontillado." I am aware that Poe is a horror writer. Doesn't make it any less fucked up that the protagonists of these stories murder a helpless old man because his eyes were creepy and brick their friend into a basement to die slowly, respectively

Literally all of Steinbeck's Of Mice and Men is deeply fucked up, but the moments that my particular English Class could not get over were the crack about Curly keeping one hand soft for his wife, and the fact that George Old Yellers Lenny at the end

The Giver by Lois Lowry discusses eugenics and both infanticide and euthanasia. I'm not going to sit here and say that NO fanfic addresses these topics, but honestly no fanfic I've ever read made me anywhere NEAR as disturbed as reading this book in FIFTH GRADE did

John Knowles's A Separate Peace has one kid thinking he accidentally-on-purpose murdered his best friend for the whole book

Sophocles's Oedipus Rex has incest, self-mutilation, and murder

Margaret Atwood's The Handmaid's Tale is well-known enough that I don't need to give details, right?

Jean Craighead George's Julie of the Wolves has an attempted underage rape in it

John Gardner's Grendel has a deeply fucked-up relationship with sex and sexuality, and Grendel holds a female character in a split over a fire because of said fucked-up relationship with sex and sexuality

This is nothing CLOSE to an all-inclusive list. So uh...if we aren't going to hold these stories to the moral standards we hold fanfic to, then we should lay off fanfic in general and fanfic writers.

And in no particular order, here are some historical shippers who were powerful enough to change the canon with their ships and fics:

Queen Elizabeth I was SUCH a Falstaff stan that she low-key threatened Shakespeare and insisted that he bring Falstaff back and give the character a happy ending. Hence we have The Merry Wives of Windsor.

Dr. Thomas Bowdler (of "bowdlerize" fame) is objectively a Shakespeare fanfic writer who was not a fan of smut or spiciness. He and his sister Henrietta Maria gave us The Family Shakespeare, a version of the Complete Works that is appropriate for children and women

Nahum Tate was also a Shakespeare fanfic writer--he turned King Lear into a comedy

We also get John Dryden and William D'Avenant fanfic-ing The Tempest, up to and including Dorinda, their OC (do not steal)

Dante and Milton both wrote Bible fanfic in The Divine Comedy and Paradise Lost, respectively

The Arthurian Legends are a goddamn tangled mess of fanfics and fanfics of fanfics that were written by "important white dudes" and so other "important white dudes" decided that the fanon would become canon

SHAKESPEARE HIMSELF was a fanfic writer. He wrote no original plots. He was the Elizabethan EL James but with actual talent

More modern examples? Madeline Miller and Rick Riordan are both writing Greek Mythology fanfics to SIGNIFICANT acclaim

The line between fanfic and adaptation is and has always been ephemeral. Who gets to be "canon" and who is relegated to "fanon" is largely a combination of circumscribing your current intellectual property and rights laws and passion. We don't get to go "canon is always morally fine because it's canon" because honestly I've taken SIGNIFICANTLY more psychic damage from the canon than I ever have from fanon, and at least I know that fanon works are written with love and passion, whereas Charles Dickens was getting paid by the word and IT SHOWS.

Fanfic isn't inherently morally dubious, and canon isn't inherently morally pristine. Fiction has no inherent morality. Worry less about how others engage with fiction, find what you enjoy, and have some fun with it.

[darthkruge]

hey could you do a jess mariano x reader where the reader has dyslexia but loves to read. someone at school makes a comment about her being dumb and she gets insecure but jess is super reassuring to the reader about how intelligent she is. also they can either be already dating or have mutual crushes. whatever you think fits better. <3

Jess Mariano x Dyslexic!Reader ~ All of You

Summary: Someone at school insults the dyslexic reader and their boyfriend, Jess, provides reassurance. 

Warnings: Bullying, language, insecurities, I think that’s it? 

Words: 2.1k

A/N: Hey!! I’m so, so sorry this took me so long to get to! I hope you don’t mind, I didn’t mean to keep you in the ask box void. I really enjoyed writing this, so thank you for requesting! I decided to make them already be dating because that’s where my brain went hehe. I hope you like it :)

You walked to school hand-in-hand with your boyfriend, as always. Even though it took him about 15-20 minutes out of the way, Jess never missed walking with you. He hated the thought of you starting your day by yourself and never wanted you to feel forgotten about or lonely. Thus, the tradition began and it has stayed the way you start your day, everyday, for the last few months that you’ve been dating. 

Jess pulled you behind the science building, pressing his lips to yours. Your hands instinctively wove into his hair and his arms wound around your waist, pulling your bodies together. He smiled into the kiss before pulling away from your lips and gently moving his kisses down the side of your neck. You hummed in content before moving to meet his face again, once again pressing your lips to his. 

These stolen moments were what you lived for. You’d never felt too confident in yourself, at least as far as relationships went, and you weren’t used to this kind of affection. Even so, you loved every moment of it. Everything with Jess felt so natural. No matter what, you came first to him and he never failed to show it. 

You both pulled away and he softly kissed your forehead.

“See you after second period?”

“Of course” 

“Okay, love. Text me if you need me. Or if you’re bored. Or if you miss me”

“Oh, yes! That Jess Mariano charm. I’m not sure how I’ll endure two classes without it!”

“I’m sure it’ll prove quite e difficult,” Jess said, laughing. The bell rang and he gave you one last smile before you parted. 

You walked into your English class with a smile on your face, giddy after the experience with him. He made you feel alive. It was the kind of feeling you didn’t know you needed, but once you felt it you couldn’t imagine losing it. 

You sat down in your seat, waiting for the teacher to start class. 

“Okay, everyone. Today we’re just going to be doing some silent reading for the first half of class and then I’ll put you in small groups to work on a new project”

Fuck. Group projects were the fucking worst. Unless you got one of your friends, people were normally assholes and impossible to work with. 

Even though you were upset with the new development, you were excited to have time to read. You pulled out your copy of The Great Gatsby that Jess had lent you and picked up where you last left off. Because you read so much and generally did well or at least half-decent in school, people never assumed you had dyslexia. Lots of people had this false narrative that if you have dyslexia, you must hate reading. It was something you were used to, the stupid comments and assumptions. You tried to not let it get to you but you sometimes felt frustrated. You’d run into loads of ignorant people in your life and while you weren’t ashamed to have dyslexia, you hated having to explain it to every new teacher, every new friend in your life. You never knew how’d they’d react.

Even so, reading was one of your greatest joys in life. Losing yourself in the work, in the story, it was enthralling. You loved to find characters that you connected with. Their emotions were palpable and made you feel validated and less alone. Reading was one of the main things that brought you and Jess together. He knew you had dyslexia and, thankfully, never treated you like you were any less. You were afraid he would break up with you once you told him, but, of course, he didn’t. You were still you, and that’s all he cared about. 

He loved trading books with you and hearing your thoughts on them. In doing so, he felt the two of you were brought closer together. Discussing literature was an almost intimate experience in your relationship. Learning which characters and themes resonated with a person was truly illuminating about their personality and mind. Right now, as you read Gatsby, Jess was reading Pride and Prejudice. You loved Jane Austen, as did Jess, and you completely enjoyed discussing her work. 

After a few moments lost in thought, your teacher’s voice pulled you back to the present. “Alright! Okay so for the group project you will be analyzing the short story “The Lottery” by Shirley Jackson. Please read it together today and discuss what you think the most pertinent theme is. I’ve already assigned the groups and I’ll display them on the board right now.”

Your teacher stepped back and turned on the projector so you could see the groups. Scanning for your name, you internally groaned when you saw who you were with. Sarah, Justin, and Alex. They were all close and their friend group didn’t exactly have the best reputation. You grabbed your bag, walked over to them, and sat down.

“So, y’all just wanna read it? Then just talk about it, I guess. We’re looking for themes, right?” Sarah asked.

Everyone nodded, opening up the copies of the short story placed on your desks. You jumped in and immediately felt yourself pulled into the writing. After a few minutes, your eyes glued to the story, you heard the rest of your group closing their packets. 

“Alright, everyone done?” Justin asked.

“Yeah, you?” Alex said

Sarah nodded in agreement.

You, on the other hand, felt your cheeks flush. You were only about 70% through the story. “Sorry, I just need a bit more time, is that okay?”

“Ugh, fine, whatever. Just hurry up,” Sarah groaned. 

Your face burning, you went back to the reading. It wasn’t like you weren’t trying, you were! They just wouldn’t understand it. You couldn’t count the amount of times people had told you to just “focus more”. It made your blood boil, honestly. It was so dismissive and you couldn't believe people still thought that way. You always focused and it wasn’t your fault, and, yet, morons like these three persisted. After a few more minutes, you heard Alex again.

“Come on! You can’t possibly still be reading?”

“I’m sorry, just-” You sighed, running your hands through your hair. “Please, just a few more minutes?”

“God, you’re so fucking stupid. No wonder no one wants to work with you. All you do is hold people up, you’re a goddamn idiot” Alex said.

Your eyes burned and unshed tears started to push their way up but you fought them down. You wouldn’t let yourself cry in front of them. They didn’t deserve to see how they’d affected you. 

Finally, the bell went off and you were able to leave. Your group glared at you and you realized you  hadn’t discussed the themes. 

“It’s, um, the story’s about the juxtaposition of peace and violence. Even though the people are in a calm, controlled setting, they resort to violence every year. It’s an outdated tradition they keep up and, thus, it highlights the difference between their actions and how they want to be perceived.” You said quickly, voice wavering. 

Your group scoffed before walking off. That didn’t bother you too much. You knew your analysis was accurate and probably far better than anything they could have come up with, even if they’d spent the last 15 minutes of class discussing it. Despite this, you still felt deflated. The shit they’d said, the way they’d treated you? You couldn’t deny it, it got to you. 

You walked over to your locker and put your stuff away. After that, you decided you were just going to go home. You could call the school later and say you were feeling sick or something. Honestly, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You were just so drained, you needed to get away from this place and the people in it.

However, you didn’t want Jess to worry. You sent him a quick text saying you weren’t feeling well and put on your headphones before walking out of the school.

What you didn’t expect was Jess to come flying out of nowhere, appearing by your side as if you’d summoned him.

“Jess! What are you doing? Don’t you have class!”

He shrugged. “You weren’t feeling well. Did you honestly expect I’d leave you by yourself? And, seriously, Y/N, you know I hate this place. You’re the only thing that makes it bearable so if you  wouldn’t be here, why should I?”

You nodded and kept walking forward. Jess looked at you quizzically, trying to decode your dejected state. He kept quiet, knowing not to push you to talk. He trusted you’d come to him when you were ready. Therefore, he simply followed you until you made it off campus, where you turned into a random alley and suddenly stopped walking.

Jess caught himself, almost running right into you. You suddenly turned around, dropped your bag, and bolted right into his chest. He was caught off guard but instinctively brought his arms around you, trying to comfort you. He noticed you were crying, your broken sobs getting muffled in his shirt. He soothingly rubbed his arms up and down your back, desperately trying to give you solace. After you finally quieted down, Jess gently and slowly pulled you back.

His hands gripped your shoulders as he studied your face, your sad gaze meeting his. “What happened?”

“Stupid English, that’s all”

“Come on, Y/N, don’t shut me out. What happened?” He said, his tone kind.

“I-” You trailed off, trying to keep your composure. “Some kids just said some shit. I was just reading slower than them and they said some shit. It’s not a big deal, I just- it got to me, okay?”

“Who?” Jess said, firmly this time.

“Jess-”

“Who, Y/N?”

“Alex, Justin, and Sarah.” 

Jess groaned, rubbing the heels of his hands over his eyes. “Fuck them, Y/N. They’re fucking ridiculous and they don’t know anything about you”

“I know, I know. That’s why I’m so goddamn frustrated! Because, like, it did get to me. Jess- Jess, they’re right. I felt like an idiot today, I felt stupid. And I hate feeling that way!” Hot tears smarmed in your eyes, the frustration and anger bringing them out. 

Jess’s gaze softened. As livid as he felt toward the three of them, he knew that’s not what you needed right now. 

“Hey, hey, hey. Love, take a breath. I’ve got you, okay?” 

You nodded, your breathing shaky from the stress of the day. 

“I’m sorry that happened today. Listen to me, Y/N. You’re so smart. You’re smarter than I am, hell, you’re smarter than anyone at that school! They’ve got nothing on you!”

You looked at him and smiled at his words but shook your head. “You don’t need to do that, Jess”

“Yes, I do. We promised we’d be honest in our relationship, right? Well, that’s all I’m doing. Seriously, Y/N, who else at that school could debate the themes in literature with me like you? Who could discuss the importance of accurate representation in books with me? Who could talk to me about just how influential YA books are and why they should be taken seriously-?”

“They are and they should!” You cut in.

Jess laughs, nodding in agreement. “Exactly!! You’re amazing, Y/N. And I swear those fuckheads are gonna get what’s coming to them”

“Jess-” You warn.

“Okay, okay!” He laughed, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “They just- they messed with you and made you upset and I fucking hate that”

“I hated it too. I hate doubting myself because of my dyslexia. I feel so shit about myself when I get in that headspace and I start spiraling and it gets out of control so fast.” 

“I know. It’s not your fault when those spirals happen. And I know you know this, but I’m just gonna remind you: you’re not any less because you’re dyslexic. It doesn’t make you stupid or anything. It’s a part of you and I love you, all of you”

Your heart swelled at his words. Everyone thought Jess wasn’t good expressing his emotions but you knew the truth. He was quite eloquent when he wanted to be, he just sometimes had trouble with vulnerability. You didn’t blame him for it, with his past it made perfect sense. But when you needed that reassurement, that compassion, you could always count on him for it. 

He moved to place a kiss on your forehead before slinging his arm around your shoulder. “Let’s go home, okay?”

“Okay” You smiled up at him and kissed him once more before tucking your head into his shoulder. He pulled you closer and you grabbed his free hand with yours as you continued to walk through the Stars Hollow streets together.

[wordsturnintostories]

show me your rosettes, baby (g)

summary: The world tour is over and the Bangtan Boys finally get their well-deserved break. When Namjoon suddenly can’t find Jimin anywhere, things take an unexpected and pretty unbelievable turn. “Kim Namjoon!” “Hyung. How common is it for people to turn into cats?” word count: 6.1k note: woooo a looong chapter. contains a special guest. the guessing is over. who is at the door? you’ll see. have fun! ✨

masterlist | moodboard masterlist

[ prologue | one | two | three | four | five | six | seven ]

what happened before:

“Oh God, no, Jimin-ah,” Namjoon pants in surprise and tries to grab the little one who is just way too curious for his own good. Those blue eyes glow with babylike innocence and Namjoon has to hold on to the wall to not fall for the younger’s charms. No, he wants to say sternly, but something tells him the little leopard doesn’t understand the concept of… things… yet. So all he can do before the doorbell rings a fourth time is to kinda push Jimin away gently and ignore the playful mewl and the sharp claws digging into his big toe. That should occupy him enough, Namjoon hopes and grabs the door handle.

Opening the door feels like playing the lottery. He wonders whether it will be Seijin or someone else. When Namjoon’s brown eyes hit familiar warm eyes, his heart stops for a second. Jackson!? Shit. What do I do?

It’s just his bad luck that he’d not only forgotten to check his business calendar but that he’d also neglected his personal one. With all the changes of plans that Jimin had bestowed upon them during the last days, could anyone blame him, though? Probably not.

Of course, Namjoon does what he has to - he pushes Jimin a little further away, but not far enough to go into a stretched-out position (cause he doesn’t want to look like an idiot in front of his friend - his first impression was enough embarrassment to last a lifetime) and forces a smile to Jackson, one person he’s rarely ever fake-smiled at.

“Kim Namjoon. I want to be mad at you,” is what Jackson says with a pout, “You left me standing here for almost five minutes. You’re lucky I’m so patient.”

Namjoon bows. “I’m sorry. Please come in.”

There’s a clear feeling of defeat when Namjoon feels something sharp digging into his toe. He winces. Not the big one. Jackson notices, looks concerned and sniffs. He’s got a cold, already reaching in his pocket to get a tissue.

“Hyung, are you in pain? Oh, you got a cat?”

“No, why would you think that!” 

It’s a fast answer, way too fast and not believable at all because Jimin presses his little body against Jackson’s ankles and everything is ruined. There’s a little rumble and then, from Jackson, a little coo. Plus, a dawning realization (along with an amused cackle).

“This why it took you so long to open the door? You tried to hide this fella?”

“Yeah, I was worried that staff would find out, so I thought that I should be careful.”

“Gotcha. Aw, he’s so cute.”

This hangout is going to be a challenge, Namjoon knows it already with the amount of inner panic that he has to push away even with this one pronoun in Jackson’s mouth. How does he know, is what flits through his mind, but he pushes it away. Jackson doesn’t know. Jackson just called Jimin he because all he sees is a little cat and Namjoon hasn’t specified and actually, why the heck is he worrying so much? Korean doesn’t even have gendered pronouns. Why is he filling in the blanks with his own words? He’s freaking out over nothing, once again. Get your shit together, Kim Namjoon. Don’t assume stuff. He hopes Jackson will buy his acting.

The visiting rapper just continues to talk to the cat, stepping into the apartment and walking into the living room. It looks like Jimin doesn’t quite know what to do from where he had been sitting, distracted from his previous quest to chew up Namjoon’s big toe. Should he follow? It’s like watching the exact moment Jimin’s cat brain makes a decision because after licking his paws once, the kitty gets up and runs after Jackson.

“Yeah, right. So handsome. Oh, and you’re hungry too. Come on, there’s probably something good for you in the kitchen.”

The cub seems to like the guest because it lets itself be picked up without protest or hesitation and rumbles against Jackson’s chest while the two of them make their way to the kitchen that still looks a little wild from breakfast, to be honest. Namjoon would like to sink into the ground when he suddenly becomes aware of what a mess the kitchen table is (an abundance of tuna-mashed-vegetable-spread on the table, yes, directly on the surface). But it seems Jackson really doesn’t mind, he doesn’t even say anything. Instead, he picks up some tuna.

“He’s not on a diet, right?”

What a weird question.

“Uh, no?”

The little cat meows, probably demanding the food Jackson’s been holding in his hand too long.

“Yeah, that’s right. You wanna grow, huh? Become tall and strong. So you can protect your hyung.”

While this interaction is adorable, Namjoon feels like he’s stuck in some sort of film. He half expects someone to come around the corner and yell script lines at him. Is there something specific he has to say next? Are there YouTube tutorials for situations like these? The only thing he knows is that Jackson reminds him of Taehyung in this moment, with that bright love for animals and the gentle, playful way he treats them. It’s not good. Taehyung gets attached too easily and Namjoon is already thinking about how to sell this story. He could pretend that this was a stray cat that he’s found by the apartment. Yeah, that sounds somewhat believable. But what do normal people do with animals like this? Animal shelter, right? Are there any animal shelters nearby? But then Jackson leans back and looks around and Namjoon doesn’t even speak up first.

“Wow, it’s so quiet. Where is everyone?”

“Oh yeah, the others went home to visit their families. They’ll come back in a few days.”

“Even Suga-hyung?”

“At the studio. He’s working hard even on his day off.”

“Wah, your hyung is so diligent. I want to ask him something later. Do you know when he’ll be back?”

“Did you come by to hang out with me or Suga-hyung?”

Both of them laugh at the fake exasperation and the little cub makes happy munching sounds and even purrs a little. When Jackson lets him lick the last bits of fish off his fingers, the leopard cub is eager. Just the feeling of that little raspy tongue on his skin makes Jackson laugh.

“That tingles,” he scolds the kitty. Namjoon watches from the side with a slight feeling of sweat on his forehead. How do I fix this? Once they’re clean, Jackson lifts up the little one, a special warmth resurfacing inside of him. The kitty’s gentle burp vibrates against the palm of his hand.

“Ooh, I can feel how full your tummy is. You’re stuffed, baby.”

Once again, he seeks Namjoon’s eye.

“How long has he been like this?”

“Like this? Here? Um, an hour? Half an hour? Honestly, I was just-“

“Crap Joon, does your management know?”

“No,” Namjoon replies, deflated and retreating into the living room. No, they don’t know. They won’t, because this could ruin Jimin’s career. It could be Bangtan’s end. Namjoon will do everything in his power to keep the secret. Even if he knows secrets are literally the worst thing to keep (next to headaches and caught colds - Namjoon always makes sure to throw them back as fast as possible). And, in his made-up story, management doesn’t know about the stray cat in his apartment either. Stick to your story, Namjoon, he warns himself.

Jackson has Jimin on his arms and whispers something into his fur.

Then, he smiles and says, “Uh-oh. He’s so cute though. They probably won’t be mad.”

The look in Jackson’s eyes is almost loving as the kitten rubs its cheek against the human’s. Soft purring floats through the room and Namjoon wants to coo but he can’t because he has to think. He can’t tell his friend that this is Jimin. Because how awkward would it be to say, “The butt you’re scratching is my dongsaeng’s butt but he seems to like it so please keep going.” Just… no. Seeing that he’s left with no other valid option, Namjoon decides to keep the lie up. How unlikely is it that this is some sort of stray cat? Not that unlikely, especially in Seoul.

“What are you gonna do?”

Namjoon isn’t sure what the question refers to exactly, the way that Jackson says it just sounds so… ambiguous? Like there’s a nuance of this conversation that Bangtan’s leader cannot fully grasp. He hopes his voice doesn’t betray his insecurity.

“What’s the most responsible thing to do? I’ll probably bring him to the animal shelter later.”

“What?”

“I mean, there’s no way we could keep him. It’s inevitable that staff will notice and it will be a mess.”

The dogs are fine and Seokjin’s sugar gliders too, but they all have primary places they can stay while not being with their Bangtan owners. Another animal and management would pull their hair out, probably. Namjoon remembers now that ironically, Jimin and Jungkook had asked for a cat before, but that wish had been denied. For logistical reasons. No one wants to carry another animal around on their trips, especially the tours, with all the airport paperwork and staff having to take care of the stressed animals. Plus, cats usually want to run free, outside and on their own, so how can they ensure that a cat would come back from a walk in a strange, foreign city? Summed up, it’s just not a good idea. Or, rather, not a practical one.

“You’re not serious, right?”

Jackson musters Namjoon like a hawk, like he’s searching for something deeper in his friend’s eyes than just the surface calm. Namjoon is aware, wonders what nuance of this conversation he missed, but knows he has to keep up the lie. This is surreal. Even his heart knows it and pounds heavier than usual.

“Yeah why not? Yoongi-hyung, Hobi-hyung, Tae and I have dogs but that’s already a huge responsibility we often can’t really take care of well. We can’t add another pet to the situation now. Also, strays are not always safe to keep.”

For some strange reason, Jackson looks terrified. He grips Jimin tighter and holds him up against his chest protectively. Why is he so upset? Namjoon is sure he’s a good liar. But he can’t lie about the nervousness spreading in his chest. Suddenly, every little twitch in Jackson’s eyes turns into suspicion until Namjoon isn’t sure anymore if what he’s saying is credible. I should switch the topic. Wait. That’s too suspicious. Oh shit, what have I gotten myself into?

“I really can’t tell whether you’re really cruel or just pretending.”

“Uh, it’s called being responsible. Look-“

“No. I don’t believe you. Because your heart is pounding so fast but it has been the entire time since before I rang the doorbell and you’re sweating but that could just be the heat in this room and I’m not sure how to read all the signs in your scent and-“

“Wang Jackson! W-what are you talking about?”

Jackson looks like he’s on fire with the way he suddenly stands up and tosses his baseball cap on the ground. The snapping spooks Jimin a little, the kitty’s tail puffing up as his head snaps to the side and when he can’t read the situation, he sneaks away to bury himself deeply into Namjoon’s hip.

“Hyung, this is Jimin! And I really can’t believe you’d give your dongsaeng away because of this.”

Even in this heated argument, even with his head spinning, Namjoon can see the tears in Jackson’s eyes when he says this. There’s a feeling of fear in the air and Namjoon can’t grasp the unspoken words between them, the reason for this exposition of emotions. What haunts him all the more are the rising questions. How does Jackson know? Is is that obvious? How would he know something like this? I must be a really bad liar… what did I say? Will he hate me for lying in his face like that? Oh, God…

Honestly, Namjoon is out of words and doesn’t even know how to breathe with all these oppressive worries clogging up his brain but apparently, Jackson does have a couple of words for him because he’s still ranting on. He looks really mad. Thinking turns into a race that only stops when the other taps his shoulder gently. The touch pulls him back and makes him notice how his own fingers are trembling on Jimin’s back.

“Hyung?”

“Yeah,” Namjoon croaks, feeling like the calm from this morning has slipped away completely, like he’d dreamed it up. Maybe that was a completely different day. Now, all that’s present is the feeling of sitting in the rain. It’s cold and depressing.

“Hyung, did you not know?”

He looks at Jackson, his friend, who sports an expression on his face that spells confusion rather than anger at this point, with two dog ears flat against his head. Wait, dog ears?

“Yoongi-hyung and I…. What is-?”

Only then Namjoon realizes there’s something soft gently moving behind Jackson and he stares at the sleek grey thing. A tail.

“Is that a- Are you- Uh, what…?”

“Hyung, I’m a hybrid. And Jimin-ssi is a shifter. How did you not know?”

How would I have known? It’s not like that’s a thing. No one told me. Hybrids. Shifters?

“I didn’t- what’s a hybrid?”

By now, Jimin seeks closeness to his hyung, placing his paws on Namjoon’s lap as if he feels that comfort might be needed. After checking the dimpled face, he nestles himself into those squishy, strong thighs. Jackson watches the younger, giving off a calmer vibe.

“We’re half-half. Half human, half animal. And you’re living together with one. Well, not quite, since he’s a shifter. They’re a little different from us.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Uh. Shifters are… shifters are like the Hulk. Hybrids are more like Spiderman. Kind of like an 24/7 thing. But that’s not the most important right now. Do you know how hard it is to keep something like that secret? Did the others not know either? And why is he so small? Do you not feed him properly?”

When Namjoon doesn’t answer, overwhelmed by how casually Jackson throws these questions at him like they’re all supposed to make sense, Jackson kneels at Namjoon’s feet to reach up and rub Jimin’s ears.

“Do they feed you enough? Do you have everything you need?”

The little cat doesn’t answer, at least not that Namjoon notices and soon, he’s the target of his friend’s hawk-like glance again. What did I do now? What’s wrong?

“Why is he like this?”

“How?”

“He doesn’t respond.”

“Um, should he? He’s a cat, after all.”

“Hyung,” Jackson sounds offended, “shifters don’t lose their minds when they change. We’re not animals. Well, not entirely.”

He pauses. Sniffs the room. Sniffs Jimin, which translates to Jackson burying his nose in Jimin’s belly fur. As allowing as the little one has been during the whole time of this hyung’s visit, he protests now with a river of sweet meows and an ambitious hiss that is not at all menacing.

“Unless… is this his first time shifting?”

It’s a feeling of helplessness and stupidity crawling over Namjoon’s soul and he hates it so much. Whereas he’d just enjoyed spending time with his dongsaeng during the last days, it had been sweet and downright adorable as much as it had been a learning experience, now the realization that he actually knows nothing at all crystallizes. It feels like crap. And it’s bad because he should be the one being able to figure everything out, leading the other six members securely into one direction, towards their goals. He should be able to take care of their needs. And now he’s overwhelmed. What a leader I am. Can’t even see the path I’m on. Namjoon buries his face in his hands and soon, he feels a kind hand rub his arm.

“Ah, hyung-nim. Don’t worry, okay? It’s not easy, but I’m here for you. Hey, you’re all good. You’re doing great.”

Namjoon breathes. Grateful for the emotional bandaid. Normally, Hoseok would be here to do this, but Jackson isn’t so bad at guiding him either. He’s grateful that baring himself didn’t push this friend (one of the few he has) away.

“It’s the first time I’ve seen it, at least,” he manages to breathe out, “I didn’t know he could do that.”

Jackson hugs him, sensing how heavy this is on his friend who always carries such an air of responsibility and leadership. And this isn’t just a small thing. Being introduced to the entire world of this without any pre-knowledge is no joke. Jackson knows the feeling, has experienced it first-hand a couple of times. He watches the cub squirm and sets him down on the sofa, away from his hyung. Jimin just marks the sofa with his little claws but his sparkling eyes never forget to return to Namjoon. It’s clear the little one adores his hyung.

When Namjoon looks up, grateful for the warm embrace that lifts his spirits, his eyes are drawn to a pair of silvery-brown dog-ears on Jackson’s head. They point at Jimin and move with every sound the little one makes. That… is not what he expected to come out of this hangout that had already been rescheduled three times and almost didn’t happen. Life is crazy. Those are real.

“Okay, could you show me his room? I need to get his scent.”

“What?”

As if this conversation isn’t weird enough already, it makes no attempt at stopping the approaching weirdness. Rather, it embraces it.

“We emit pheromones, it’s like a secret language.“

“I know how animal communication works.”

“Great! Has Jimin peed anywhere yet?”

Namjoon almost chokes on his spit. Shit. Will Jimin pee in the apartment? Wait. Where has he peed the last days? Other than on Yoongi-hyung and me… shoot. We took him outside a couple times but what if he-?

“I hope not,” he mumbles weakly. It would be a lie to pretend it’s not fascinating to watch Jackson’s tail wag in obvious amusement.

“He should at least once. It’s his home and he should mark his territory,” Jackson states without batting an eye and when Namjoon’s mind won’t stop thinking about that, quickly jumping to the obvious follow-up question, he blushes.

“Oh God,” Namjoon mumbles and jumps up, followed immediately by his friend.

“What?”

“I ain’t gonna set foot in your apartment again. Hell no. I don’t even wanna know.”

Jackson cackles, no, erupts in of those laughs where he bends his whole body to slap at his thighs because he enjoys the joke just that much. Namjoon frowns. Yikes.

“Let’s go see Jimin’s room.” Jimin is eager to get off the couch and run after his two hyungs the best he can, tail flopping and paws hitting the floor rhythmically.

“He’s a leopard,” Jackson mumbles, “that’s super rare. You’re gonna have a lot of work on your hands once he’s grown.”

“Grown? He grows?”

The look Jackson gives him is stunning. It’s his typical deadpan- Bro, are you kidding me? look.

“How big?” Namjoon whispers, feeling small under the hybrid’s gaze.

“Have you ever seen leopards? They’re big, Joon. Hence the term Big Cat.”

“Shit.”

They enter Jimin’s room, which is clean of course, except for the stuff on the floor that Namjoon hasn’t cleaned up. Jimin doesn’t like chaos (even if he’s dirty while they’re on tour but who is not?) and loves inviting people (aka Taehyung and Jungkook), so it’s mostly clean. Neat for finding things. (Maybe Namjoon should start cleaning up his stuff too. Hoseok would certainly thank him.)

Namjoon looks at Jackson, not exactly sure what to expect from the other, whose eyes travel all over the place. Maybe he’s looking for something specific. How does this even work?

“How’s the, uh… scent?”

He regrets the question as soon as it’s over his lips. There’s another wtf? look for him and he shrugs apologetically. There’s a big chance Jackson’s just messing with him, like he does all the time, but Namjoon isn’t sure if his question might have been offensive or not. It’s not like his ordinary human nose can smell anything other than the mild fruity-bubbly scent that seems to penetrate everything that belongs to Jimin (it’s that frickin’ body spray he brought home from Tokyo when he went with Jungkook, and Namjoon bets Jimin would probably bathe in it if he could because the younger keeps reordering it). (Oh, and the scent mixes with something sweet, probably that glorious liquid gold hair oil. That one is definitely worth the money for Namjoon too.)

“This is definitely his room, smell-wise,” is all the commenting Jackson does before inspecting the room. Mind-blowing conclusion.

Jimin seems happy to be in here, in his own space, and curls up on the bed, happily rumbling to himself on the sheets. When they make eye contact and Namjoon remembers what Yoongi taught him, to blink slowly, Jimin takes the gesture like a gift, purrs in a kitty-thank you and bares his belly. Aware of the high degree of trust that’s on display, the rapper keeps a tight grip on his wrist.

Don’t rub his belly, Yoongi had recommended, nay, warned.  What kind of cat expert are you, hyung?  That’s common knowledge, had been the elder’s casual reply. 

So instead of succumbing to his urges to let the adorableness meet his fingertips, Namjoon stealthily takes a photo. The leopard ears swirl at the audible click. At the same time, Jackson turns towards him. Caught, Namjoon blushes but it doesn’t seem like his guest minds. The tail is still wagging. This is so surreal.

“One thing is strange,” Jackson notes and Namjoon can’t help but imagine the worst thing right away. Is something wrong? Is he sick? What if-?

“What is it?”

“Jimin’s scent is really… weird, somehow.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not sure… I have a suspicion, but I don’t want to say it as long as I’m not sure.”

“Is it bad?”

“I don’t think so. Don’t worry. I’ll let you know if I can confirm it.”

Namjoon’s head feels like it’s spinning. This is worse than a Seoul-New York jet lag. Honestly, he’s never heard of any of this stuff and he doesn’t know what to think about it either. He only knows that with every passing second, his desire for Jimin to turn back intensifies. Just to turn back, stay human and not cause more stress than necessary. He can’t even imagine what this means for all of the members on a long term basis. A dramatic gasp pulls him out of his sorrowful thoughts.

“Where did he get these?”

“Get what?”

Jackson holds up one of the pill containers from the nightstand next to Jimin’s bed.

“Oh, those are supplements his parents make him take since he was young. Vitamins or something, I don’t know the exact details. But he gets sick without them.”

“Hyung, these are really high-dosed suppressants.”

“Is that… bad?”

“Probably.”

“What do they suppress?”

“His shifting, most likely. Look, his genetic root is a leopard, not a domesticated cat, so you can expect the genes to be strong. Hence these high-concentration suppressants. I bet they wore out, his body got used to it. This,” Jackson looks at the pill tube, reading the banderole, “is a really high dose. It certainly explains why he’s shifted this late. They’re not healthy for his body because they suppress what’s natural for him. Shifters usually turn as children and their parents teach them to control their two forms and their instincts. If he’s taken suppressants since his childhood, it’s all been suppressed and he’ll have to learn all of that now.”

“But will it cause negative long-term effects?”

“I can’t tell you. The only thing I can guess is that his parents are shifters and when they noticed his drive to dance, they wanted to enable him to pursue his dream, to make it far. Hybrids and shifters both aren’t exactly appreciated in the industry, hyung. They wanted to give him a chance. So you’ll have to support him as much as possible. He won’t have it easy now.”

When did Jimin ever have it easy? Namjoon can’t say that this new information sounds good. He takes a look at his dongsaeng that seems comfortable under Namjoon’s warm hand. His mind wanders to Jackson’s dog ears that turn towards Jimin when he starts to purr.

“So, do you have any dog-like instincts or behavior? Or characteristics? Apart from the ears and the tail.”

Jackson’s tail flops against the sofa cushions in a steady, happy thrum. To Namjoon, it sounds like a little beat, happy, maybe bordering on cheeky. Typical Jackson. And this is when Namjoon takes note of how intertwined these animal traits must be - because there’s no way Namjoon can spot the line where they flow into his human ones. It’s all Jackson, all one person. It will be the same for Jimin, right?

When his friend laughs, body moving along with the freehearted sound, Namjoon blushes. Just a little. In retrospect, the question is so weird.  So embarrassing.

“Man, I’m surprised you ask. It’s so obvious. You know how I like meeting people. I love people. Also, I’m super athletic. I’ve been told that’s very dog-like.”

After a second of nodding in complete acceptance of the facts, Namjoon’s mind hits the brakes. Hard.

“Tae…” the idea seems ridiculous but kind of realistic enough and he just doesn’t know. He ends up whispering, “…is Tae a dog hybrid like you? He loves people as well and people love him. He’s like a puppy sometimes.”

In his mind, it’s not too impossible, considering he hadn’t known about Jimin all this time, much less Jackson. So when the other shakes his head, Namjoon isn’t fully convinced.

“Why not?”

“He’s not, Joon, don’t worry. He smells human. Don’t get paranoid now.”

“Am not paranoid,” Namjoon mumbles and plays with Jimin’s tail until the cat starts chasing after his fingers. It’s fun to see Jimin playing so freely, even if the claws come out and break Namjoon’s skin.

“Just a little?”

“No. So, how long will he stay like this?”

“When did he change?”

“This is his third day.”

“Since it’s his first time, probably still a day? He doesn’t know how to control it, so it will just happen at one point.”

“It just happens? Like, how?”

“Like farting. It just happens.”

Namjoon’s mind just… blanks. It’s too much information at once. Jackson’s humor doesn’t even register. There are too many things that don’t fit in Namjoon’s mind. He feels emotionally exhausted. Even if there’s nothing that’s really happened during the last minutes. He thinks about Yoongi-hyung, living his best life in the studio. Probably napping. Namjoon wants to nap.

“Or like blanking out,” Jackson cackles, “are you okay, bro?” He only gets a hum in return.

“You know what,” Jackson proposes, “I’ll get you a specialist to come by and check him out. I know someone trustworthy.”

“Jackson,” Namjoon starts and he doesn’t quite know how to go on from there because he feels a headache coming. It’s all too much.

“It’s okay, I’ll give you some time. Text me if you need anything.”

And then, Jackson slips a business card in his hand. It’s a little thinner and strangely, more solid than any other business card he’s ever held. The light catches on it softly, making the vivid grey surface shimmer in the sunlight. It stuns Namjoon when the card warms up against his fingers and he’s even more surprised when the fine white Chinese characters on it somehow… thrum a little against Namjoon’s fingers, like they’re alive and want to get his attention. As if the light and the warmth had stirred them from a hibernation sleep, they swim together and reform into Korean words right before his eyes. Namjoon gasps, looking up at Jackson, who just smiles and shrugs. Surely this can’t be real…? When he looks back to the buzzing paper in his hand (is that even paper?), the card spells, “Call me on this day in a month. Jimin won’t need me until then. You’re doing well, Kim Namjoon. But make sure to tell the others.”

After he’s read the words, they swim together again and almost as if he’s watching a little animation, he sees a white-line drawing of a figure picking up, washing, and feeding a little cat. That’s me. His eyes widen. 잘 했어, 김남준 appears again, after the figures fade. A big sigh falls from his lips. Well done.

When the card keeps silent, no more than the bare grey from the beginning, he’s a little confused. What kind of business card is this? Doesn’t leaving out a number or a name defeat the purpose of a business card?

“There is no number,” he points out. Jackson doesn’t look surprised whatsoever. “Or name.”

“The contact details will be there when you need it.”

“Is this magic?”

“You think Jimin turning into a leopard is not? Everything is magic. We just don’t see it all the time. Actually, you’re a musician, so you should know that by now.”

It’s difficult to keep a straight face after this new information that doesn’t actually make sense (but what does, on this strange day?) and while Namjoon still hasn’t an idea about what to make of the card, he slips it into his pocket. Reassurance softly bumps into his heart without warning, settling there. Relief spreads. It’s nice, a bubbly feeling like champagne. Namjoon finds it almost addicting. It will all work out.

I’ll put the card by my mirror so I won’t forget it, Namjoon thinks. However mysterious the contact may be, if Jackson trusts them, he’ll trust them too. He sits on Jimin’s bed, still working on sorting through all his thoughts and questions. Jimin nuzzles into his hip and Namjoon lets himself fall back. When he closes his eyes, everything swirls around in wild circles. The cat’s fur is soft between his fingers and he strokes Jimin’s back as well as he can, careful to be a gentle giant.

Something rings back in the kitchen and Namjoon is certain that it must be Jackson’s phone. Sure enough, the other rapper perks up from where he had been rummaging through Jimin’s drawers, still looking for something like a clue, something he can’t describe to Namjoon but something that would be helpful in understanding Jimin’s situation.

When Jackson leaves to take the call, Jimin just looks up to Namjoon with his big blue eyes. The latter isn’t sure what he can seem in them.

“What’s wrong, hm?”

The little leopard doesn’t answer, only puts a paw on his hand to sort of hold it there and nibble on Namjoon’s index finger. Maybe he’s teething, Namjoon thinks. I should really get him some toys that he can bite and chew on. Or-

“Are you hungry again? Jiminie?”

Jimin doesn’t reply, only gags and mewls when he takes too much of the finger into his jaw. Namjoon quickly caresses Jimin’s back while the little one shakes from the force of his own body protesting against the intrusion.

“Be careful,” Namjoon chides. He can’t deny the little spike of panic inside of him when his dongsaeng gagged. For a second, he’d been afraid that Jimin would throw up his food from before but right now, the younger seems fine, moving back to chew on Namjoon’s spit covered finger. To prevent further accidents, Namjoon lifts Jimin up and walks towards the living room from where Jackson still hadn’t returned. Hopefully the call doesn’t bring bad news.

Jimin wiggles around in Namjoon’s grip and the rapper feels the small muscles and bones in his hand, can feel the pricky little claws snagging on his skin, can feel the fluffy fur brushing against his fingers. Jimin is a little ball of contrasts, just the same as he is in human form. Cute but fierce. In an alluring kind of way. Small but strong. Kind but ready to hurl you against a wall if need be. Not that Jimin really does that regularly. But he can, potentially, and just knowing that the possibility exists adds to his appeal. As a human, obviously. As a leopard cub, he fits into Namjoon’s two hands.

Namjoon steps into the living room to see Jackson shove his phone back into the pocket of his jeans jacket.

“Management,” he rolls his eyes. Namjoon wonders how often their members get called in by management.

“I actually gotta go, I’m really sorry that this didn’t work out,” he adds and while Namjoon understands, there’s a little hint of disappointment crawling into his mind. But honestly, he’d already forgotten their original plan to hang out to have fun and talk about their lives. Priorities, right?

“It’s fine. Better go before they worry,” Namjoon waves it off, hoping that his own worry won’t show. He’s been with Jimin for three days (not knowing what to make of the situation for three days), so he should be fine (although letting the guy who actually knows stuff go is the stupidest idea ever). It shouldn’t be a big deal and yet, Namjoon really isn’t sure. He knows that the internet is useless in this case (it’s hard to believe that almost every human being on this planet uses it and there’s still next to no helpful stuff on there). On top of that, he isn’t really emotionally ready to prepare the talk with the members and with management on his own, without any advice from an expert.

“Hey, are you going to be okay? I know it must be a lot for you, with Jimin like this. I’ll try to help you as well as I can, yeah?”

“Yeah. Thank you, Jackson.”

“Anything for you, bro. Just let me know. Seriously, just text me.”

“Kay,” Namjoon says. It doesn’t mean he’s happy with how this hangout turned out. “You owe me. Let’s go out for dinner next time.”

Jackson nods.

“Bye Jiminie, hyung is leaving,” he reaches out to boop Jimin’s nose and the little cat rasps a sweet purr as a goodbye. “Yeah baby, see you soon.”

Namjoon looks at the cub fondly, feeling oddly warm about the fact that his dongsaeng treats his friend so well - it’s not that he doesn’t expect him to, Jimin is a very sociable person who loves his friends dearly and Jackson is a loved-by-all social butterfly but Namjoon feels honored to have his younger brother appreciate his choice of friends. It’s just - nice to see.

“You’re such a Dad,” Jackson teases.

“Oh come on, shut up,” Namjoon grins but blushes a little, just like every single time the other rapper exploits this old joke.

“They are all your children, admit it,” Jackson cackles, and while it’s just a joke he loves to bring up over and over again, it’s a little irritating because Namjoon knows that there’s a grain of truth in it. There was a recent interview where he even admitted that wish of his. It’s old, his wish, old with yellowed edges, old with moments of pondering, of wishing that things could be different. Moments of imagining what it would be like to hold little hands in his big ones, to have a little body on his chest, sleeping, to have the power to take all nightmares away with a kiss, to have the power to create a life and make it precious by filling it up with love. Yeah, Namjoon wants that. Sometimes, the wish becomes a painful aching in his heart, mingling with doubt, producing tears. It seems impossible sometimes, and that’s why he is grateful when he meets Seokjin’s eyes and recognizes the quiet understanding in them. It’s those days and moments that Jimin usually sneaks up to him, giving comfort even if his mind doesn’t feel the same longing. It doesn’t matter, Jimin loves to give comfort and Namjoon gives thanks every time. So, until the day comes where Namjoon can really be a Dad (he had confided in Jackson long ago), he will just take care of this group. Maybe not like a Dad would, but he could swear he’s raised Jungkook. And that has to count for something.

“Except for Jin-hyung,” the cackling builds up and Namjoon swears if Jackson doesn’t stop, he will- “he’s your husband, of course.”

“Yah, you’re such an annoying friend, honestly.”

Jackson bursts into laughter even as Namjoon shoves him towards the door.

“You’re so shameless it’s criminal,” he says, groaning.

“I know. That’s my appeal,” Jackson waggles with his eyebrows until Namjoon can’t keep the warm laughter inside his belly anymore.

“You’re ridiculous. Go smooch Jinyoung.”

“Kim Namjoon! Don’t make fun of my babies only because you’re bitter that yours are gone.”

“Oh my god. Okay. Tell your babies I said Hi.”

“Will do,” he gives a thumbs up until his phone rings a second time, “have a good one.”

“You too, man.”

When his door closes, Namjoon stills. He is looking at an empty apartment, quiet now where laughter had been a few seconds ago. He still feels it in his body, the joy that always stays behind when Jackson leaves.

masterlist | moodboard masterlist

[ prologue | one | two | three | four | five | six | seven ]

tags: @taeshuworld, @justanemptydream, @hoodmeup, @gingerpeachtae​

[tothedarkdarkseas]

For fanfic writer ask meme: E, J, K, M, P(for any fic or all your fics), R, T, X, and Y. (If that's too many questions, then you can split the answer into multiple posts. Also, no need to answer if you already answered these questions before.)

Thank you so much! I’ll put these below a cut just to account for the length, and I pray Tumblr works like it’s supposed to this evening! I appreciate you having an interest!

E: What character do you identify with most?  Is there a certain fic of yours that captures these qualities particularly well?

I really do not identify with Gorillaz characters and thank god for it, or most characters I tend to prefer! Haha, I know that might sound a bit strange, but I can think of very few characters I’d call “my favorite” that I also felt were a reflection of myself in a major way. Of course that isn’t implying that representation isn’t important, but just speaking for my own personal relationship to media– I live with myself all the time, I like people who live very different lives! Having said that, of the characters I write (all two, possibly three of ‘em) I’d say I identify with some of Stu’s worst qualities over anything else: being unambitious but craving reward, self-centered yet lacking in a concrete sense of self, dumb about mostly everything, overcompensating (to be fair, this is Murdoc as well) and so on. Despite picking fun at him I definitely have an affection for an unlikable guy like Stu, I do have sympathy for being sorta pathetic because I feel like I can access that.

J:  What’s your favorite fanfic trope?  Have you written it?

Hmm! That’s hard to say! At the risk of being an absolute knob, I don’t tend to be a fan of tropes, or at least what I think is meant here by “fanfic tropes” like uhh… the heat goes out and we have to share a bed, or that kind of thing? Is that what this means, the sort of repeated setups for fics? There’s of course a place for everything so I’ve got no real beef with more innocuous stuff, but I wouldn’t say I ever pick to read something because it’s got a “classic” trope. I’m definitely rife with tropes in the broader sense though, I’m rife with things I like and clearly just repeat, haha. I do not smoke pot, but I have a real affinity for characters who do, and this is evidenced by having like… half my stories feature that, haha. If a scene where two characters creep up to being intimate via sharing a joint/bowl/bong counts, that’s definitely a trope I’ve done and would probably do again.

K:  Do you have a guilty pleasures in fic (reading or writing)?

Does the above count? I’d certainly call myself self-indulgent, haha, I like what I like and I don’t stray very far from it. I think unsatisfying or incompatible intimacy is really interesting and I honestly never get tired of reading or writing that. (Er, as much as I “don’t get tired” of writing anything, which is not saying much as I’m very bad and undisciplined.)

M: What’s the weirdest AU scenario you’ve ever come up with?  Did it turn into a story?

The only AU I’ve written is Coffin Dancer, which is a story set in the early 1900s about Murdoc being a reanimated corpse and Stu being a gravedigger who buries/exhumes him. Sexy, I know, nothing hotter than… long paragraphs about digging. I think the occult element makes that one a bit weirder than anything else I’ve come up with. I’ve kind of entertained other AU ideas but they tend to be a lot more mundane, to be frank I just really like the characters as they are and I don’t want to change their dynamic too much. As a joke I once suggested something about a riverboat casino (Stu working there, Murdoc trying to pull a money laundering scam via currency exchange, potentially convincing Stu to go in on the scam with him) and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t still think about it sometimes and question how to make it work, haha. I think it might be fun to do an AU again, but I think there’s just too much of a gap between what I’d want to do or be capable of doing, and what people actually want to read.

P:  Where did you find the most inspiration for your story ?

Oh gosh, this makes it sound so important and I feel like the biggest jag going to pretend I’ve made anything that great or with particularly impressive roots, haha. A couple came from prompts, so that’s a fairly straightforward answer.

I first began planning Coffin Dancer because I was playing Graveyard Keeper on Steam at the time, haha. If you load up this game, you’ll quickly see there is next to no plot and it is simply a crafting sim. I just sorta… liked the setting, I guess? It is the 1900s and it does follow a graveyard keeper! Following that, I decided it would be a story about Murdoc’s skin turning from tan to green as it does in canon, but giving it a bit of a morbid tint, as opposed to the vague canon handwaves of Murdoc being “immortal” with no clear explanation of what that means.

Ampersands was mostly inspired by me being a big Buffy the Vampire Slayer fan and thinking it’d be fun to show a dynamic similar to Angelus/Drusilla/Spike, but heavily reworked to fit our characters. The first scene I imagined was the shoelace-tying one which has some resemblance to a shot of Angelus knelt at Spike’s feet while still mocking him, and that ended up being the very last scene I wrote (and probably one of the weaker ones.)

On Oysters and Black Water was actually the story that required the least research from me, as I already had an interest in oyster filtration and oyster reef restoration. By no means am I an expert nor is this story a genuinely educated look at this process (I am Genuinely Educated on zero things) but I definitely knew when planning a PB story that I wanted oysters to be used for a filtration system on the island, just as a little nod to something I find neat!

R: Which writers (fanfic or otherwise) do you consider the biggest influence on you and your writing?

This really puts me at risk of sounding knobbish, so to start with: I’m not really a writer. Fanfiction writer is already not the most impressive title, but even that I feel is a little generous for me. I’ve written things, but I struggle far too much and have too little dedication to pretend it’s something I feel “cut from the same cloth” as these folks to do. The writers I admire have “influenced” me in the sense that I’ve wished I could write that way, and I’ve probably/definitely ripped them off.

Some will find this laughable, but I’m a fan of Joey Comeau’s writing style. I’ve enjoyed every book he’s published, in particular the short novels Malagash and Lockpick Pornography, and especially his… err, non-novel collection of cover letters Overqualified. (I think I’ve read Overqualified more than anything else on my bookshelf, but this is saying very very little as you can sit down and read it in about 30 minutes.) The darkly comedic way he presents these ideas, how he’ll expand on these very offbeat details and veer so far from the topic, then take sudden sharp turns into something uncomfortable is just enjoyable to me.

Also somewhat cliched now, but Peter S. Beagle’s The Last Unicorn is a beautiful book to me. Beagle’s writing style is ideal for the fantasy setting, the poetry in his prose does not tip over the “purple” line for me (but I’ve always been unclear where the line is, obviously) and I’d really… feel like I’d accomplished something if I could say anything half as powerful as this book.

Shirley Jackson, (famously) the author of The Lottery and (less famously) We Have Always Lived in the Castle springs to mind as well. The latter in particular has a gothic tone, an at times strange sentence structure and an unreliable POV, which probably influenced Coffin Dancer stylistically and everything else I’ve done in perspective/structure.

But as far as influences, nothing more directly influenced me than @elapsed-spiral‘s writing and characterization. Old drum I’ve beat before, but it’s simply the truth. I would not have tried to write fanfiction again (after… many, many years) if I hadn’t found Danni’s stories and felt that excitement of reading something truly special. Now, it’s important to note that Danni is British so they’ll come out in hives if I praise them too much, but sincerely nothing in recent years has made me feel a “passion” for reading or writing like Yearz did. The oneshots Fairy Vale and Beside the Sea also deserve special mention for just being goddamn phenomenally good character studies. “Influence on your writing” could be misleading, in the sense that Danni’s biggest strengths (namely Being Funny, Being Realistic and Knowing What You Are Talking About) are among my biggest weaknesses, and I don’t feel that stylistically we’re all that similar; on the flipside though, I think so much of my “improvement” is really owed to Danni, aaaand I don’t think you’d ever look at something I’ve written and miss the fact that it’s ripping off Yearz in one way or another.

T: Any fanfic tropes you can’t stand?

Ahaha, alright, this jogs my memory and I do remember stepping on eggshells to answer this before! I mentioned above that I’m just not a big fan of tropes in general, but that means nothing as I don’t… have good taste. I never have. Famously bad taste over here. I don’t have any interest in raining on anyone’s fun or policing fan content, but I think we’re all perfectly fine just co-existing without feeling obligated to anything. More than anything else, in Gorillaz specifically I’d say there are some portrayals of their relationship that I find a little dodgy and I tend to avoid, but I recognize full well that many people may feel the same way about me! I also just like the characters to be compelling and to be themselves, whatever your version of them is. Of course my characterization is bonkers and mostly made-up and I have no expectation that someone else’s should resemble mine, but even if we have different ideas, I don’t like to feel you can slot them out and anyone else in? Which is why standard tropes like “coffeeshop” or “fake dating” don’t tend to be my favorite. Oh, I’m also a fuddy-duddy and I don’t love the nicknames, haha.

X: How would you categorize your fanfic reading?  Are you a voracious reader?  Do you carefully pick and choose?  Something in between?

I’m not a very big reader these days! I’d like to offer you a good excuse here, but I’m just picky, truth be told.

Y: What are your thoughts on your personal satisfaction with something you’ve written vs. the popularity of your stories?  Do you tend to be most satisfied with your most popular stories?  

In total honesty, it takes all of about a month to become completely unsatisfied with anything I’ve written. That’s not like, a plea for sympathy, it’s just being objective. I write comparatively little and comparatively slow, so whatever growth that may happen is still pretty limited and it’s a little disheartening, even if it’s also my own fault for having poor discipline. I would not call any of my stories “good,” at best “good for what they are.” There are definitely some I wished did better, I wished with a stupid amount of sincerity would hit some magical validating number that would Suddenly Mean It Was Good… but after a little distance, I can always understand why they wouldn’t.

Hoooowever, some are undeniably worse than others. Based on both hits and kudos, my most popular story is my first one (I Couldn’t Feel, So I Would Touch) and this is truly baffling as it’s garbage. I mean, with no exaggeration I just think this is bad writing through and through, it’s truly just the worst thing I’ve written over the age of 20. I hoped I’d get this question purely because of this, haha, I feel such shame every time I see this story at the top of my statistics page. If we consider that to be the “most popular,” no, I do not tend to be most satisfied with the most popular story. We could define that differently though; for example, I think the story that got the most notes here and I received spectacular fanart on (a thing I just… can’t believe can happen, how nice is that?) was Oysters, and at a time I did consider that my favorite, I was incredibly proud of it when I posted, and even if I’ve grown exhausted by my overwriting too much to read it again I do still rate it pretty favorably compared to the others. So it depends on what constitutes popular! But if we’re just talking hits and kudos, sadly my stats page puts some of the worst stuff at the top.