#well. nothing to do but to keep on engaging in transformative works bc if not at least that then what else!!

[adelphenium]

tknp + a long-suffering lawson

[ellecdc]

would you ever have the desire to write a part two to “bitten” where the reader has her first full moon and regulus comforts her (as well as remus bc duh) afterwards? I understand totally if you don’t!! 🖤

this has taken me months to complete - this was started back in April lol so thanks for the suggestion and your patience. Also, because I felt like Bitten turned out to be such a good story, this will of course not be comparable in the slightest, so do keep that in mind as you read <3

poly!moonwater x fem!reader who has her first full moon [3.4k words]

p1 // p2

CW: werewolf behaviour and transformations, discussions of past familial issues that led to your bite

A proposal.

It had been a proposal that led to you fleeing from your home over the winter hols only to be attacked by a werewolf.

Though, Remus supposed it was more of a betrothal announcement than a proposal, seeing as no one had actually asked you; you had no real say in your engagement to Mulciber Senior, whose first wife only recently perished ‘under mysterious circumstances’. 

Engagement, betrothals, proposals; all words that were supposed to symbolise love and devotion being reduced to a sentence of life-long servitude and imprisonment. 

You were right to flee, yet you were punished greatly for it. 

You were still being punished for it, and would now pay that debt for the rest of your life.

Remus thought that might have been the hardest part for him, as he and all of your friends returned to school to find you looking, appearing, and probably feeling quite fragile.

The second hardest part - which of course had nothing on watching you work through your physical and emotional trauma - was having to deal with Regulus and Barty’s realisation that they would not be able to help on your first full moon. 

Of course they knew as much when they started the process, but there was a stark difference between reading the fact that the mandrake leaf needed to remain in one’s mouth from one full to another versus digesting that for what it meant. 

They were lucky enough to start the month-long mandrake leaf step immediately after you were bitten, which would allow them to complete the “full-to-full” moon cycle with the leaf in their mouth should neither of them spit it out or swallow it accidentally, but that was simply step one in a long and arduous potion-making process. 

They were then required to wait for an electrical storm after making the difficult potion with other hard-to-come-by ingredients - performing an incantation each morning and night in the meantime - to complete the process. Seeing as it was currently the middle of winter in the Scottish Highlands, they could be waiting an awful long-time for the next appropriate storm. 

“What do you mean?” Barty asked again.

Remus tried to suppress the urge to roll his eyes; for being brilliant enough to receive Outstanding on all twelve O.W.L’s, Barty was really quite thick.

Regulus - well versed to his friend’s foolishness - had no such qualms and audibly rolled his eyes at him.

“He means exactly what he said, Barty.” Regulus spat.  “We will not be able to be there for her first…transformation.” Any remaining  ire swiftly left his tone as his eyes darted to you at the end of his sentence.

Your lips pursed slightly but you simply looked at your feet.

Remus felt as if he’d hardly heard you speak since That Night; though he knew that wasn’t true. You’d spoken plenty, it just never sounded exactly like you.

There was none of your quick wit, or your simmering temper, or your effervescent joy.

Remus knew this would change you in more ways than one; being infected with lycanthropy didn’t mean you would simply turn into a rage-filled beast once a month.

This also meant you’d be warring with another voice inside of your head and another heart beating inside of your chest, both of which were seemingly working against you more and more everyday closer to the full moon.

This meant that you would never fully trust another person to know you - all of you - lest they judge you for your affliction. 

This meant that any plans and dreams you once had for your future self would have to be reconsidered or scrapped entirely. 

Life was different for you now.

You were different now. 

And it was Remus and Regulus’ job to love you through that. 

“Can you…” You started quietly before trailing off, still looking down at the floor. 

“What is it, dove?” Remus encouraged quietly.

You swallowed before nodding your head to yourself. “Can you tell me again? How it happens?”

This wasn’t the first time you asked this question, nor was it the first time Remus described the process to you in gruesome detail, but he would repeat it however many times you asked him to if it brought you any comfort at all. 

“After dinner, we go up to the dorms to change before heading to the shrieking shack. There’s a small knot on the whomping willow that Pete scouts ahead to press in order to stun it momentarily; long enough to let us in.” He explained. “I usually get upstairs and try to lie down for a little bit…try to be as comfortable as possible until I feel the transformation coming.”

“How do you know? That the transformation is coming?” This time, it was Barty who asked. 

“Your heart rate speeds up nearly double time and my skin feels like it's being pulled taut. No one is allowed to be in the room when it happens - neither I nor The Wolf have any control over our movements at the time; it’s not safe.” He explained to Barty before turning back to you. 

“About halfway through the transformation, you lose sight of the pain because it’s no longer you that is feeling it; it’s no longer you in control.” He expressed solemnly to you. “James, Pete, and Sirius would have already transformed in the next room before they come out to check on Moony; the first time they were very cautious and Moony was stand-offish, but they’ve fallen into a routine now.” 

“And then?” You continued quietly for him. Remus ached to reach across and pull your hand into his; but Remus understood just how violated you must be feeling since the Bite, and he was wary to push you. 

“And then, depending on the mood Moony seems to be in, James - as Prongs - usually opens the hatch that is Moony proof and lets them out for a romp. They start by following a trail they’ve carved down a large hill, then they chase each other down the riverbank before stopping for a drink at the edge of the Black Lake, and then Pads encourages Moony back towards the shack before the transformation.” 

“And transforming back…it hurts the same?” You asked cautiously.

Remus smiled sadly and leaned his elbows on his knees bringing him that much closer to where you were seated; looking painfully small in the desk chair situated near the trunk at the end of Regulus’ bed that Remus was sitting on. “It does, my love. But then it’s done.”

“But then it’s done.” You echoed in a whisper, pausing shredding your nail beds when Remus placed a tentative hand over your own. 

“What’s the new plan?” It was Regulus asking this time. “Now that she will be there?”

James, Sirius, and Peter - who had been quiet up until that point - perked up. 

“The plan stays mostly the same.” Sirius started.

“We’ll head upstairs after dinner and change. We’ll head to the shack, Wormy will stun the tree.” James continued.

“But that’s where the plan deviates.” Peter added. 

“There’s the room with the bed that Moo- erm, Remus awaits the transformation, and then there’s the room that we usually hide in during the transformation as our animagi; Y/N will transform in that room.” James explained.

“But then where will you lot be?” Barty asked then. 

“In the attic - it’ll be a little harder for Prongs to navigate down the narrow steps but he can manage.” Sirius stated surely, clapping a teasing hand against his friend’s back.

“We’ve practised - it was quite funny to watch the first time.” Peter added with a chuckle.

“I’ll have you know I am very agile.” James argued with a pout. 

“What happens if the wolves don’t like each other?” Barty asked again; clearly uninterested in hearing just how agile James’ animagus was. 

The room fell quiet as the Gryffindor’s shared awkward glances and Remus stared at the top of your down turned head, rubbing his thumb back and forth over your knuckles. 

“They should be fine.” Sirius started, though his tone lacked confidence. “Wolves are pack animals - they should-”

“But what if they’re not fine, Black?” Barty pressed. 

“Junior, knock it off.” James barked. 

“I will do no such thing! You’re locking two very dangerous beasts in-”

“Enough.” Remus ordered when you flinched at the phrase dangerous beasts; shocking the whole room quiet. “That’s enough now.” He added quietly, encouraging your hands to separate and pulling them to his lips. “You’re okay.” 

“I’m okay.” You repeated on an exhale, but your voice was pitchy.

“Everybody out.” Regulus demanded.

The three Gryffindor’s moved without second thought. 

Barty seemed to hesitate. “But this is my roo-”

“Barty, please.” Regulus begged, causing Sirius to turn and look at his brother sadly; desperation not commonly seen or heard from a Black. 

“I’m sorry, Treasure.” Barty whispered before turning and following the other boys out of the room. 

“I’m okay.” You said again.

“You don’t have to be.” Remus offered you then as Regulus sat beside him to look at you imploringly. 

“I’m fucking scared.” Your voice cracked painfully at the end of your sentence causing Remus’ heart to crack painfully in sympathy. 

“I know dove, I know.” 

“We’re so well prepared, amour. This is going to go as well as it’s going to go.” Regulus added solemnly. 

It hurt both of them to be unable to comfort you anymore, but neither of them were willing to lie to you, and you seemed to appreciate the honesty. 

“I’m okay.” You repeated.

“You’re okay.” Both boys agreed in unison. 

You have to be. Remus thought to himself. I’ll make sure of it. 

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊��₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

If Sirius had thought the walk to the Whomping Willow after having to watch you and Remus say goodbye to Regulus (and Barty) was painful, then having to listen to the sounds of your blood curdling screams during your transformation was down right excruciating. 

Sirius - now Padfoot - was well-versed in hearing his Moony crying out in agony, though he wouldn’t go far enough to say he was accustomed to it. No one became accustomed to hearing such visceral sobs from anyone, let alone one of their best friends. 

But the addition of your gut wrenching shrieks simply added even more heartbreak to an already heartbreaking moment as Padfoot desperately tried to cover his ears with his paws, wondering if he shouldn’t have been so quick to promise Regulus that he’d make sure you were okay because this felt anything but. 

Prongs, either agreeing with Padfoot or simply sympathetic to his plight, wrapped his neck around his canine friend in an attempt to quell the noise coming from below them.

It didn’t help much, but Padfoot was grateful for it nonetheless. 

Dogs couldn’t tell time, so Padfoot had no real way of knowing how much time had lapsed between the sounds of wailing to the sounds of howling before both faded away into an occasional grunt and sniff, but Prongs - after sharing a cautious look with his friends - carefully opened the latch to the lower levels as the three friends deigned to enter the wolf's den. 

Moony - usually very excited to see his friends and packmates - hardly spared the three marauders a passing glance as his face stayed pointed at the slightly ajar door that Padfoot, Prongs, and Wormtail usually entered from.

Padfoot made a snuffling sound and nudged Moony’s hip with his shoulder, but the wolf simply spared him a fleeting glance and offered him a dismissive huff before turning back towards the door. 

Moony could tell something was different, something was off, though he knew not what yet. 

But the second there was noise coming from the room, Moony was standing with his ears pinned back against his head and his teeth showing. 

The door was slowly pushed open by means of a long snout also snarling as Padfoot watched Trouble slowly creep out of the room with her hackles raised and teeth bared. Moony quickly surged forward - the big oaf - causing Trouble to back into the peeling wallpaper which disturbed the dust as she snarled loudly at the other wolf.

This was not going well, Padfoot thought. They were supposed to be a pack - this was decidedly not pack.

Padfoot was just about to say something along those lines when Wormtail nibbled on his foot.

Warning. 

He hardly had a chance to give the rat a doggy glare when he noticed Moony’s stance changing; no longer was he low to the ground but moving to stand tall in front of the still cowering and snarling Trouble.

Padfoot held his breath as Moony’s snout inched closer and closer to Troubles; sniffing her out as she continued to snarl until he gently booped her nose with his, causing her to rear her head back and close her mouth - though the growling from her chest was still ever present.

Suddenly, Moony let out three ‘sneezes’ in quick succession before bowing down in front of her.

Yes! Padfoot cheered. Friends! Pack! 

He must’ve made an excited whine because Moony’s head whipped towards his oldest friend before launching himself at him and starting a playful wrestling match full of hip shoves, sneezing, and play bites. 

Trouble cocked her head at the two as she cautiously sat down, looking sceptically between the rat and stag.

Prongs, being perhaps more brave (or bold) than Wormy, stepped towards the wolf offering her a regal bow before gently booping her nose with his, causing the wolf to let out a sneeze.

Play!? Padfoot wondered at the canine sign for enjoyment and playfulness. Moony agreed, letting out three quick yips before play bowing in front of the other wolf again.

Padfoot watched as Trouble considered the wolf in front of her - far more seasoned than her, in an established pack, and … seemingly okay with her.

Padfoot offered her an encouraging stomp of his doggy foot, and that seemed to seal the deal. 

The rest of the evening had gone pretty smoothly after that; the three friends agreed that Trouble could handle a short romp in the woods. Moony didn’t seem too fussed that his usual routine was being disrupted, so Padfoot considered that a win, too. 

Padfoot, Prongs, and Moony gallivanted through the trees whilst Trouble and Wormy followed dutifully behind them; only pausing when Trouble heard any other noise or creature in the forest and letting out a quick rumbling from her chest before Moony merely rubbed against her like a giant wolf-like feline to assure her they were fine. 

So yeah, the rest of the evening had gone pretty smoothly. 

And then it was time to transform. 

Trouble seemed completely uninterested in going anywhere or doing anything when her bones started to shift again, letting out pained whimpers and yips and snarling at anyone who got too close to her.

Padfoot was anxious; they needed to get her back to the shack - she could not transform out here. 

Prongs stomped his hoof into the ground very authoritatively as he puffed out his chest, and Moony looked between his stag and his wolf in concern before Wormtail scurried over to Trouble’s snout now resting in the dirt.

Padfoot’s not exactly sure what Wormy was telling Trouble as he sniffled at the Wolf’s snout and offered it gently pats, but whatever he said seemed to work as Trouble let out a pained huff but managed to stand and followed the pack back to the shack. 

Trouble had hardly made it into her designated room before she started howling in pain and the Padfoot could actually hear her bones breaking. The wincing from both Wormtail and Prongs suggested they could too. Moony made a snarling sound at the three of them, clearly suggesting they get their arses to the attic.

But the second that the howling turned into sobbing, Padfoot shifted back to Sirius and he went racing down the stairs. 

“Go- go check on her, please.” Remus gritted out, and Sirius didn’t need to be told twice.

You were unconscious, but you were breathing. Sirius took a quick inventory of your body and was happy to note you didn’t appear to have any external injuries before he covered you with a blanket. 

“Moons, sit down- no, stop.” Sirius heard James arguing.

“I need to see her, I need-”

“You need to lay down.”

“Sirius has her, Moony.” Peter offered. 

“Where is she!?” Sirius heard Barty shout breathlessly at the same time Regulus murmured a quiet “mon loup…” 

“She’s in here, Reg.” Sirius called before two bodies came barreling through the door.

“Why isn’t she awake? Why isn’t she awake!?” Barty shouted, causing Sirius to turn and stare daggers at him. 

“Junior if you cannot control yourself and stay calm for her sake you need to get the fuck back to the castle.” 

Barty seemed stunned by his intensity but Regulus simply knelt beside Sirius over your body. 

“Oh mon amour…” He murmured sadly. “Is she-”

“No injuries, Reg. And she’s breathing, just unconscious. I think that probably makes some sense, sometimes it takes a while for Rem to wake up too.” 

Regulus simply nodded as tears trailed down the bridge of his nose and chin before dripping onto the mattress beside you as he brought your hand to his lips.

“Thank you.” Regulus whispered. “For keeping both of them safe.”

“I made a promise, yeah?” Sirius offered, attempting to feign nonchalance but missing by a mile. “I keep my promises.”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Your lungs felt as though they were constructed from cement offering you no give or take as you took effortful breaths, but you were breathing nonetheless.

You were breathing.

The bubbles in your ears seemed to pop slowly with each breath, eventually allowing you to hear the gentle murmuring around you. You could hear…James, and Barty, and…

“Rem?” You croaked, wincing at the feeling of sandpaper in your throat as you tried to clear it.

“I’m here, dove. I’m right here.” He responded quickly, a gentle hand encasing yours. 

“Where-” you paused as you tried to swallow around the thickness in your throat. “Where’s Reg?” 

“I’m right here, amour.” You heard from somewhere above you; fingers brushing featherlight touches across your forehead as he moved some hairs away from your face. “Can you open your eyes?” 

You didn’t know. Could you open your eyes? You felt as though you should be able to, however, the fact that it took you as much effort as it currently did to suck in oxygen didn’t leave that too likely. 

“Come on, babylove, let us see those pretty eyes, hm?” Remus murmured as he pressed a kiss to your hand, and you decided that it was worth the try if Remus was going to speak so sweetly to you. 

“There she is, ma belle fille.” Regulus whispered as you looked up at him, currently standing at the head of your bed as he looked down at you with no shortage of adoration. 

Remus was sitting on your opposite side, no bandages or bruises as he held your hand in his, though he seemed the sort of bone deep tired that could only come from worry.

“I did it.” You murmured, causing Remus’ face to break out in an emotional smile.

“Of course you did, Treasure.” Barty sounded from somewhere at the foot of your bed. “You’re phenomenal and can do anything, there was never any doubt.”

“And I’d sooner die than let anything happen to you.” Sirius added. 

“I’m okay.” You whispered with a breath of relief. 

“Glad to hear it, because I decidedly wasn’t - leaving me alone with the likes of Barty all evening.” Regulus teased, though he seemed far more relaxed now as he perched against the edge of your bed. “Never let it happen again, okay?”

Sirius scoffed at his brother when James piped up. “Yeah well the two of you better hope for some unlikely weather then if you want an electrical storm in the middle of winter.”

You watched in perhaps a little bit of horror as a wicked smile took over Barty’s face. “Oh, don’t you worry.” He started. “There will be an electrical storm.”

And you couldn’t even find it in yourself to be exasperated, knowing damn well that if anyone was clever (and bat shit crazy) enough to fuck around with elemental magic and succeed, it would be Barty. 

“Can’t wait.” You offered with a smirk, and all six boys softened as they smiled at you.

[comicaurora]

How do you deal with going from story eater to creator of story? What do you do if your audience sees flaws or perceives lack of depth, finds potential you never saw and feel it's wasted, or can't find what you thought you were writing? Problems you didn't realize? Mistakes? Of course people are positive but i think people who see negative are also valid to say so bc they say it for a reason and often care. But when to balance that? Do your thoughts matter at the end of the day abt the story?

Of course they matter.

The short answer is you cannot be worrying about this when you write. Your goal when writing should be telling the story you want to tell, not telling a perfect story that is completely above criticism and could never be improved, because that is impossible.

You could bake the most beautiful red velvet cake with exquisite frosting and a moist crumb and someone will tell you "you should've added another tier" and someone else will tell you "this cake would taste better if it were square" and someone will add "I think this'd be a little better if you'd used more baking powder" and someone else will say "I don't like cream cheese frosting, you should've used chocolate buttercream instead" and if you try to change your cake to please every one of those people you'll end up with a big pile of frosting-y crumbs. Plus, the people who actually like your cake fine will be disappointed that you took it away from them to "fix" it and they ended up with much less cake than they wanted.

Your audience will have opinions on your work, and you cannot and should not pre-empt those opinions. It's not your job to control how the audience sees your story - your job is just to tell the story. Criticism is good and being open to it is good, but ultimately you need to keep sight of what you want from this story. Do you want to tell a perfect story, or do you want to tell this story? In the pursuit of art, if you compromise your own enjoyment of the creative process too much, you will burn out, and then nobody gets any cake.

To address the other part of your question, the shift from fan-side media analysis to writing helped confirm something I kind of already knew: transformative work of any kind is orders of magnitude easier than building an original work from nothing. This is a huge part of its appeal, of course - if someone wants to flex their writing muscles without doing a ton of heavy lifting to establish setting and characters, they can just grab some established characters and write about them, or take an established plotline and say "I'm gonna tweak like 10% of this and see what happens." It's a way for the audience to engage with media that lets them consume it on a deeper, more personally satisfying level than just watching or reading it - it lets them digest it, turn it into part of their own creative process. I've sketched fanart of characters and scenes that were parked in my head rent-free because it gave me creative energy to do so.

And that's all well and good. It's nice clean fun. But telling your own story is very, very hard. You don't just have to build the world and characters and establish them from the ground up - you also need to guide their movements into satisfying and thematically consistent character arcs, keep the pacing tight, establish stakes that are actually concerning, build up mysteries with actual solutions that intrigue without being frustrating, dodge the yawning trope pitfalls so you don't fall in and drag the story down with you. And then you need to keep doing it as the story gets heavier and heavier and longer and longer behind you, keeping track of all the stuff you've previously established and all the trailing plot threads you haven't resolved yet and planning for where you're gonna lug the whole thing in the future.

And, to put it bluntly, it's real easy for someone chilling with a brisk glass of lemonade watching you drag this enormous tangled mass along inch by inch to sidle over, tap you on the shoulder and say "I can't believe you didn't spend more time on Guard Number 3."

Everyone who ever reads your story will have a version in their head that they think would be absolutely perfect, and some of them will complain at you that their theoretical perfect version is very different from yours, and every one of these people's perfect versions will be completely different from each other's. You cannot take it as a catastrophic personal failing that someone wishes 2% of your story was a little bit differently shaped.

Don't categorically reject all criticism, but you have to engage with that criticism critically. Some of it'll be pointing out legit mistakes (since, as mentioned, you're dragging a huge unweildy pile of tangled plot threads and big heavy chunks of worldbuilding, so you will fuck up occasionally) but some of it will just be personal preference or criticisms of the form "hey I haven't actually read your story but based on what I think it's doing I am very mad at you" and "I think this story would be better if it was a completely different story." You cannot treat all critiques as equally useful, and I'll be honest - in my experience, almost none of it will ever actually help you. Criticism like that is generally for the benefit of other fans and future storytellers learning from other people's mistakes. Your job in those circumstances is to serve as a good example and to just deal with the fact that it stings to be a good bad example.

And in general, anyone who tells you "your story would be so much better if you did my fanfic idea" can be politely and categorically disregarded.

[itsallyscorner]

This could be a request or not depending on how much time you have 😅 but for your information, yes, I am thinking Tom giving y/n hickies on her neck like the night before a bunch of interviews the next day and she's like, "Are you serious?" and he's like "I couldn't resist, I just love you so much!" and when y/n shows up the next day wearing a turtleneck after she told Zendaya that she would be wearing a dress Z immediately gets suspicious and figures it out bc I feel like she's like that 😅😂

Hehehe I haven’t written anything smutty lately and I miss it. So thank you for requesting this anon, much love to you🥰 Ugh, the thought of this gave me butterflies in my stomach😭 Happy reading!❤️

Also, little note for everyone who’s sending me requests! Yes, I see all of them! Part of the reason why I haven’t done some of them yet is because I have to think of concepts on how to execute them properly. So bear with me, love you all🥰

💌.

Love Bug

My soft boi🥺

Warnings: implied smut

(Gif from Pinterest)

The AC in your bedroom was just not doing you justice. The Californian heat was at an all time high today and has transformed you home into an Easy Bake oven. Though you were probably exaggerating, your thin crewneck sweater still clung onto your skin, making you uncomfortable. Peeling the sweater off your body, you toss it into your laundry basket. You’re left in a tank top and some lounging shorts as you sprawl yourself out on your bed. The coolness of the comforter bringing your body some relief from the heat.

Sinking into the sheets, the hustle and bustle of the day finally hits you. You’ve had a long day of press with your cast mates, promoting the movie you were all in, Spider-Man: Far From Home. You loved your job, but the press tours could just be so tiring. You were forced to wake up early in the morning and sit in a room for how many hours of the day to only be asked the same questions (most of the time). Though press tours did have its pros, meeting fans around the world and traveling to new countries was something you always looked forward to.

Marvel being Marvel, they always had to make it big. For the last few weeks you have all been traveling around the world, tired but nonetheless having an amazing time. Thankfully, this was the last stop of the press tour, California. You were back in your own bed and your boyfriend was staying with you for the time being.

You were on your phone, going through Instagram and looking at various photos that were taken today during today’s press engagements. You’ve even made your own contribution and posted your own batch of selfies and funny videos.

The door to the connected bathroom in your room opens and reveals your boyfriend. Your eyes break their focus on your phone and shift to the man in front of you. You smile and turn your phone off giving him all your attention. A smile forms on his own lips as he crawls up the bed to join you.

“Missed you all day.” He whispers against your skin, placing his head on your chest. His arms are wrapped around your figure, one leg hooked over yours. You move the hood of his sweatshirt from over his head and began to run your hands through his hair.

“Mmm, I missed you too.” He cuddles closer to your chest, arms tightening around you. His eyes momentarily shut, basking in your soothing motions.

“How was your day with Jake?” You ask him. As much as Tom wanted to do press with you, he was stuck doing them with Jake, while you did your interviews with Z and Jacob. Tom enjoyed having his interviews with Jake, but he missed being near you, even if you were just a room away.

Tom shifts so his lips are near the skin of your exposed neck. He hums against you before his lips come into contact with the soft surface. He had been tempted to mark you up all day. You wore a beautiful spring dress with a low neckline that displayed the skin of your neck. All he wanted to do was scatter red and purple love bites all over you, letting the world know you were his.

You gasp as he nips on the space between your neck and shoulder. “Interviews were good, but I just couldn’t get you out my head.” He slots himself between your legs and presses you down into the mattress.

“Teasing me with the pretty little dress of yours. Just wanted to kiss you and mark you up.” He says huskily against your neck. His breath sent shivers down your spine as goosebumps formed on your skin. His mouth sucks harder on the spot, teeth nipping gently, while his tongue soothed the bruising spot. He moved up so one of his hands are holding him up beside your head while his other strokes your side.

“Baby, we have an early morning tomorrow.” You didn’t want him to stop, but it was currently 2am and you were both expected to be awake by 6am.

His lips have made their way to the other side of you neck, pressing light kisses that turned to open mouthed ones. You giggle gently pulling him away from your neck so you can look him in the eyes.

“Babyyy.” He whines trying to shove his head back into the spot. A pout is on his lips, which were now a darker shade of pink from how much he was sucking on your skin.

“Tom, we need to be up at six.” You reminded him. Tom leans closer a boyish grin now on his expression. You couldn’t help but kiss him back when his lips captured yours. You feel him smirk against you as he pulls away.

The hand on your side moves to cradle the side of your face, his thumb brushing against your bottom lip. “We’ll be quick, I just wanna feel you. Please?”

You stare at him for a moment as his hand drifts down your body and by your shorts. Excitement swirls in your belly as his fingers get closer to your growing heat. He kisses your cheek as his hand slips past the band of your shorts to cup your mound. The wetness brings a smirk to his face as his dark eyes gaze into yours.

“Baby, look how wet you are.” He praises you as he moves your panties aside and dips his fingers into your wetness. You sigh, eyes slightly rolling back as his fingers spread your wetness on your folds.

“Fine, but—“ You bring your finger to point again him, “No marks on my neck, I’m wearing a dress tomorrow with a low cut again.”

Tom nods connecting your lips again, “Don’t worry, don’t worry, I’ll be careful.” He assures you before diving his head back into your neck.

~next morning~

You enter the bathroom, tying your hair up to keep it away from your face. You turn the shower on and wait for the water to warm up. While you wait you take a look at yourself in the mirror. Your eyes widen when you get a glimpse of you neck. You gasp out loud as you see the sides of your neck with red bruises with hints of purple on them. You had them on both sides of your neck and a small one almost on the center of your throat.

“TOM!” You yell, your voice echoing in the bathroom. There was some rustling behind the door before it was yanked open. Tom entered in nothing but his boxers looking disheveled, hair pointing in all types of direction and his eyes barely open.

“What happened?” His voice was raspy, something that usually made you swoon but right now you couldn’t even focus on it.

You turn to him, aggressively pointing to your neck. “Don’t worry, I’ll be careful!” You mock him, repeating what he said to you last night before he railed you into the mattress.

Tom’s eyes widen as well before he cringed. To be fair, you did warn him. He just didn’t know how to hold back when it came to you. He cautiously approaches you a sheepish grin on his face.

“I know it looks bad..” he begins. You shoot him a look, “Are you serious right now? Tom it looks like an octopus strangled me!”

Tom moves back to look at you, “Well you weren’t complaining last night.” You shoot him another look and he nods knowing you were annoyed with him at the moment. He stands behind you looking at the mirror you were both in front of. His arms wrap around your torso as he tries to soften you up.

“I’m sorry, I just love you so much and I couldn’t resist it. I love making love to you and I just get so lost in it and I know you warned me too, I’m sorry.” He apologizes hugging you from behind. You could tell he actually felt bad by the genuine look in his eyes. You sigh leaning back into him and resting your hands above his, interlocking your fingers.

“I forgive you, it happens.” You mumble, head trying to come up with ways to cover up your neck. “How do I even cover this up?”

Tom looks at your neck through the mirror, “Makeup will work right? Just put on some concealer or that color corrector thing you use.”

You nod at his suggestion. “That’ll work for a few hours, but makeup wears off. What if I accidentally wipe it off?”

Tom pursed his lips together in thought, “You could ask Laura to bring you something with a turtleneck.”

“It’ll barely move and your neck will be covered the entire time.” He suggests.

“Yeah, it’ll probably work. I just hope she hasn’t left yet, I should text her.” You move from Tom’s hold and turn the shower off. Before you leave the bathroom, Tom pulls you into a hug again. His face nuzzles against your hair, “I’m sorry, again.”

You smile and stroke his back, “I told you I forgive you, it’s ok love.” You pull away and peck his lips. Tom smiles and leans down to kiss your shoulder. Something he always did when you guys were having a moment. Instantly, you jump back and push him off, “Get your fucking lips away from my neck. I don’t need anymore hickies right now.”

~later~

Your stylist, Laura, ended up bringing you a stunning white dress that stopped above your knees. It was short sleeved, hugged your curves perfectly, and had a turtleneck that covered your neck. She gave you a pair of leather knee high boots which pulled the look together. Your hair was curled, pulled back into a half up and down style while short strands of hair framed your face. Compared to the panic you felt when your first saw the hickies, you were relieved when you saw yourself in the mirror again an hour later. You felt like a modern Go Go Girl as you admired your outfit.

You arrived at the hotel where all the interviews were being held. You make your rounds of greeting everyone, saving Z and Jacob last since you’ll be with them the whole day. You enter the room and see the two of them already sitting in front of the cameras. Jacob spots you first, “Aye! Good morning!”

You smile and walk up to them, giving them both hugs. When you pull away from Z she gives you a look. Her eyes scan you from head to toe, squinting at your dress.

“Weren’t you just complaining that yesterday was too hot? Why are you in a turtleneck?” She interrogates you. You smile nervously at her while you settle in the seat on the other side of Jacob.

“Um, you know, it’s a bit chilly today.” You lie. Jacob eyes you as well catching on Z’s point.

“(Y/n), it’s 95 degrees outside.” He tells you eyes panning around the room. Zendaya smirks leaning forward to get a better look at you, “I think someone was busy last night.”

“No, I wasn’t. I had a very nice sleep, thank you very much.” You sweetly smile at her crossing your arms.

Jacob snickers beside you, “I bet you did.”

“I guess Thomas couldn’t keep his hands off you last night.” She teased, exposing you.

“Or his mouth.” Jacob quickly adds smirking. Your cheeks get flustered squeezing your eyes shut. Jacob and Z burst out laughing at Jacob’s comment.

“I don’t even have a come back, blame Tom.” You throw your hands up in the air giving up. Z calms down and leans over Jacob to rest a hand on your knee.

“Hey, it’s ok, man. If I were Tom, I wouldn’t keep my hands off you either.” She tells you jokingly, helping you get over the embarrassment of wearing a turtleneck. You catch on and wink at her, “Aye, say less.” Your hand resting on top of hers.

Jacob puts his hands up looking shocked, “What did I just walk into? I—I gotta go.” He pretends to shove your hands away and gets up from his seat.

“I’m telling Tom about the sexual tension I felt in this room.” He yells over his shoulder as he walks out the room. You and Z look at each other amused, “Is he actually?”

Z shrugged, “Honestly, he’s probably getting some water. He was thirsty.”

The two of you catch up with each other. Talking about the press tour and what you were both planning on wearing for the premiere. You were in the middle of describing your dress when Tom bursts into the room with Jacob trailing behind him.

“STAY AWAY FROM MY WOMAN.”

[mashkaroom]

We watched the first episode of around the world in 80 days, and man. It's boring! It's boring, however, in the exact way that is compelling to me (well, compelling enough to write a post, though not compelling enough to watch more than the first episode, so take this with a grain of salt, bc perhaps they do address some of these things, but based on the plot summary they do not). Here’s what it is about it: as an adaptation, and even a transformative work, it to some degree needs to have a justification for existence The justification doesn’t need to be anything grand or philosophical -- if, for example, they made the adaptation solely for love of the aesthetics of 19th century transit systems, as long as that love shone through, it would be compelling! At least, certainly, to me. However, while it’s certainly not poorly put together or anything, I can’t say I observed much passion. The story performs a desire to retell and reframe: Passepartout is Black (and his family involved in radical French politics, something revealed and glossed over within the first episode) and Mr. Fix is instead a female journalist (and obviously the love interest, but we’ll get to her in a second) -- but neither of these identities are substantively engaged with. The show clearly wants credit for being an innovative and progressive retelling, but it doesn’t have any interest in engaging with it’s status as a retelling, of having any conversation with the original work, modern culture, the culture of the time, or really anything at all! It really shows its hands regarding the now Abigail Fix, whom they made infinitely more boring than the Mr. Fix in Verne (who wants to arrest Phileas Fogg for an alleged bank robbery and because of that alterantively want to keep him on or get him to British sovereign soil, which creates an interesting dynamic where their goals sometimes align and sometimes don’t) and, and i shit you not, she is the DAUGHTER of the head of the newspaper for which she rights. We’re meant to see her as radical and empowering but she is LITERALLY ivanka trump. She gets funding to accompany Phileas from her father. She decides to write under her mothers name in order to not be affiliated with her father, which we’re supposed to see as liberatory, which it is, for obvious reasons, not. It also plays the hero narrative straight. Phileas Fogg, who is able to immediately depart on an 80 day journey around the world, something already so unrelatable, is framed as someone daring to do the impossible, and meanwhile he’s out here, like. Taking trains. At least Elon Musk has the decency to build a self-made man mythos around himself, implying that when he can buy himself a trip to space it’s deserved. Phileas Fogg is literally an aristocrat who inherited his wealth and nothing is done to suggest otherwise. He has an ancient butler that he relies on well past when he should be retired whose story and personality is already more compelling from the 5 minutes he spends on screen than Phileas Fogg, even though Phileas is played by David Tenant who’s an excellent actor. His decision to go on the journey seems like a whim, and, I don’t know -- is it an escapist fantasy? Are we supposed to imagine ourselves in the shoes of someone who can make such staggering financial decisions willy-nilly? I don’t know. But even more so than the fact that the character doesn’t lend itself to be a hero, the story, at least in modern times, doesn’t lend itself to a hero narrative. Even if he was poor or a self-made man -- he’s travelling by existing transit systems. He’s not a pioneer or inventor, he is literally going on tracks laid by other hands. And this tension in itself would have been a WAY more interesting central conceit. Man thinks he’s going on a hero’s journey only to realize the age of heroes is long over and the future is barreling around the globe faster than he can circumvent it. There’s also an easy-picking answer to “why tell this story now” -- Phileas Fogg embarks on a journey in a world on the edge. The transit system that he uses fundamentally changed the world: many of the things we often take as fact now -- rapid globalization, borders, industrialization the very concept of the modern nation-state -- were shaped by 19th century railways. We, as a 21st century audience, are watching this knowing the outcomes that were only speculative in 1873. Watching it now casts the entire story with a tinge of dramatic irony. Additionally, the background of the pandemic makes the story especially compelling: it presents a world in which a character travels freely, not showing his passport or anything (at least in the first episode) while in our world borders are more present than ever before. This could have been such interesting commentary on borders, colonialism, masculinity, “heroism”, class. It could have been an in-depth look at my personal faves the railways. And yet it did none of that! Instead it added a nepotism girl-boss and the world’s most post-racial Black man and wants us to consider that an interesting modern adaptation. Why.

[libermachinae]

Lost Light/Rodimus

Notes: No, I don’t mean the crew. Unedited bc I’ve already spent way more time on this crack fic than I meant to. Rated G, no warnings apply, 2K.

---

It wasn’t Brainstorm’s fault, entirely.

“How the hell did you make a metrotitan spark?”

Just mostly.

“Well, it’s actually an extremely complicated, delicate, precise procedure,” Brainstorm said as they ran for their lives through shifting, narrowing corridors, Rodimus’ engine gunning to keep up with the jet. “It’s something other scientists have been trying to crack since before the war started, but between the exact measurements of the photonic supercrystal and the pattern of coding charges, no one else ever managed to—”

“Okay, forget how!” Rodimus shouted. “I don’t care about how! Or why! Or even at what point you decided to make a massive t-cog to go with it—”

“Actually, Perceptor cracked that one.”

“—or how you got it past Riptide and the rest of security! I don’t care!” A wall appeared front of them; Rodimus swerved around it while Brainstorm pulled into a neat roll. A wingtip brushed Rodimus’ roof. “Assuming we survive this any other way than First Aid scraping our pancaked frames off a random corridor wall, you’re going to tell the whole story to Megatron, and he can use all the practice he’s had with me to tell you exactly how terrible an idea this was.”

“Pancaked?”

“Earth term. Watch out!”

The hallway to the shuttle bay disappeared behind two shifting plates, and Rodimus had just enough time to brake and avoid being crushed. Brainstorm pulled up and transformed, landing at Rodimus’ side.

“Oh, this isn’t good,” he said.

“No kidding?” Rodimus angled his mirrors to look around, but every glance just revealed fewer directions to escape to. “We’re trapped.”

“Not that,” Brainstorm said. “We’re in the abdomen.”

“Belly of the ship, sure.”

“In root mode, the Lost Light’s power core is situated in the lower decks, under multiple layers of plating and insulation to keep the heat from frying everyone around it.” Brainstorm traced a small circle on the plating just underneath his cockpit, then drew it up, toward his chest. “When Perceptor was designing the transformation sequence, though, we couldn’t quite work out how to transport the core with all its extra plating. So, we just, hm, put a pin in it.”

Rodimus stared.

“So, what you’re saying is—”

Brainstorm pointed to the ceiling.

“The power core is one level above us right now. As soon as the transformation sequence is completed, it’s going to come online. The Lost Light’s designed to handle that kind of output, but not standard Cybertronians.”

“So, right now, this moment, we’re standing in the smelter, waiting for it to come on.”

“More like in front of the smelter after the blast doors have malfunctioned, but yeah.”

“Okay!” Rodimus revved his engine. “Well, that’s no good! We’re getting out of here.” He glanced around again. The walls were thick, but there had to be a weakness somewhere. “Don’t you have a drill gun? Or a drill you reformatted into a gun that can still be used as a drill?”

“I have a regular gun.”

“You do not.”

“I do!” Brainstorm insisted, pulling the standard issue pistol from subspace. “I was just about to see if I could do something about the problem of a finite ammo capacity (spoiler, I could’ve) when Light’s t-cog started spinning. I have others on me, but nothing that’s gotten the Perceptor stamp yet.”

“Everything else you’ve got will kill us if we fire it?”

“Might,” Brainstorm corrected, “they might kill you. Percy just hasn’t had time to test them yet.”

“Okay, fine.” Rodimus glanced around once more, optics falling on one feature he’d thus far overlooked. “You know what? We can work with this.”

  It’s a simple fact that if you’re desperate to have floor-to-ceiling windows along the vehicle-accessible corridors of your miles-wide spaceship, they’re going to need to be reinforced. Heavily. A full round of shots fired at point-blank from a non-infinite pistol might be enough to get a crack in it, but that’s about it.

Of course, if you then ram that crack with a Matrix-armored sports car dropped from the undercarriage of a speeding jet, you might get somewhere.

Rodimus hit the window bumper-first, vibrations from the impact traveling in both directions throughout his frame. Whatever he was feeling, though, the window was having a much worse time: the crack stretched and exploded, shards of glass whipping out into the empty density of space. Rodimus went with them, and for a brief second he feared he would never stop going, before strong arms and the sound of thrusters secured him.

::We’re alive!:: Brainstorm’s comm crackled to life in his audial. ::And assuming at least a couple people listened to Minimus’ instructions, we should be looking at a good—oh frag.::

::What? How bad is it?:: Rodimus tried to angle his mirrors, but two teal wings blocked his view.

::It’s fine! Don’t worry!::

::That’s my ship, Brainstorm, of course I’m going to worry!::

::It’s alright, Rodimus.::

::Who was—::

A white hand appeared in front of them, large enough that Rodimus could have done donuts on its palm, large enough to punch a moon clear through. Brainstorm’s thrusters were straining to slow them down while Rodimus’ emergency brake slammed on, but momentum seemed committed to mashing them like a reverse rustbug.

The hand shifted, flipping over so the palm was underneath Rodimus, scooping up until his tires were just skidding across the metal surface. Forgetting to release his brake, his swerved before he came to a stop, swinging around and taking in the full view of his ship as, with a final ripple, her plating shifted into place.

She glowed. From the fuel rods around the corona of her helm and the winding lanes of windows around her arms, legs, and sides, light streamed from her, but not so much that she hurt to look at. Her optic band was a solid magenta and, Rodimus suspected, unseeing, but even that gave off a light that drew the eye, even as Rodimus felt the increased pressure of the hand lifting them up. In their ascent, they passed her chestpiece, the bow of the ship, and through the viewscreen Rodimus saw a decent portion of his crew, staring back out at him.

They came to a halt in front of her faceplate, and from this distance Rodimus could see the wavering patterns of optical lights, perhaps attempting to generate an expression. Ratchet would demand a look at Perceptor’s coding, he thought, a moment before the Lost Light’s voice returned.

::Hello, Rodimus, Brainstorm.::

::You gave her a comm suite?:: Rodimus asked, glancing at Brainstorm.

::Didn’t you check the ident?:: Brainstorm returned. ::She’s using the communications hub.::

::Oh.:: He glanced at her again. ::Can you access all of our major systems like that?::

::Yes.::

::Cool. Neat.:: An independent Cybertronian with the ability to quantum jump. And they’d been doing so well staying off the bad side of this reality’s Galactic Council.

::Do you have a name?:: he asked.

The optic lights wavered, shifting without meaning.

::Of course,:: she said. ::Drift named me Lost Light.::

Rodimus spluttered.

::How do you know that?::

::I have complete access to all in-network records,:: she said. ::My ‘memories’ extend as far back as my registration five million years ago, though they become more comprehensive within the last several decades, starting with the commencement of your quest.::

::Anything anyone ever dispersed via in-house networks, saved to a private console, or was automatically logged by the systems is up for grabs,:: Brainstorm said. ::Makes introductions pretty simple, at least.::

::Sounds like a fancy way of saying she’s got the worst possible first impression of everyone, but sure, that’s an optimistic way of looking at it.:: Brainstorm had climbed off him, so he transformed and took two steps forward. ::I’m Rodimus, your co-captain. Though, you already seem to know that.::

::Yes. I know all of you.:: For a moment, Rodimus thought they were moving again, but it was the large helm tilting forward. ::Thank you, by the way, Brainstorm. Though I unfortunately agree with Minimus Ambus’ preliminary assessment of your actions, I do appreciate this opportunity to be alive.::

::Like creator, like creation, I guess!::

::Wait, you talked with Minimus?:: Rodimus asked.

::Of course. I’m speaking to everyone right now,:: Lost Light said. ::I’ve been looking forward to this.::

::Wow. You’re either going to be Swerve and Misfire’s missing trinemate, or their biggest competition.::

::I do not find either of those options appealing.::

::Oh, yeah, that’s fine!:: He waved his hands. ::Just a joke. You can do whatever you want, now, you’re your own bot. Well, within reason, I guess. We might need to make another new officer position for you, and then—::

::I will continue to perform my duties, Rodimus. You have no need to worry in that regard.::

::Oh, good.:: Rodimus’ spoiler sagged and a few bubbles of trapped air escape his vents. Brainstorm’s scheme hadn’t dehomed them, at least.

::If you wouldn’t mind hearing it, I do have a request.::

Rodimus’ spoiler twitched back up.

::Sure!:: he said. ::After everything we’ve put you through, we owe you, huh?::

::I would prefer you not consider it that way,:: she said. The connection crystalized and strengthened into a private transfer as Lost Light cleaved Brainstorm into his own channel. ::After reviewing the records, I find I admire you, Rodimus.::

He stared.

::Oh?::

::Despite what you call a poor first impression, I have observed a crew that cares for each other and looks after its most vulnerable, with you as the spark that inspires such communal behavior. You act for the good of others, you encourage selflessness and self-improvement. Does that sound correct?::

There was nothing to hide behind on the palm of her hand. That observation could not kill Rodimus’ instinct to flee.

::I, uh. I don’t know?::

A flicker around the optic band again.

::Oh. My apologies. I have only just started to engage in pattern recognition, and it is possible my assessment is—::

::It’s fine!:: Rodimus assured. ::Sorry, you did fine. Um, yeah, I guess you could say all those things about me. Not everyone would, but if that’s what the logs are telling you, you should trust your instincts. Maybe just like, make sure to update them with your own observations?::

::Acknowledged.:: There was a pause, and Rodimus imagined she was sorting the suggestion among her priority trees. ::I will maintain my assessments as an ongoing process. However, if I am utilizing my initial understanding of each crew member as a basis to form a more informed conception of their character, then it is logical to assume that there must be some element of validity to my initial evaluations, correct?::

::Uh, sure?::

::Excellent.:: Her whole visor brightened, a straightforward positive that must have been easier for her programming to calculate than the emotions it had been trying to convey before. ::Then it is not unreasonable for me to hold to my initial conviction that I admire you, Rodimus. If you have time, I would like to get to know you better.::

::Huh. Uh.:: He hated to make assumptions, but the way her visor sparkled seemed more coordinated now. ::Can you give me one moment?::

::Of course.::

He hopped into a channel so well worn it felt like sinking into his own thoughts.

::Rodimus? Are you okay?::

::I’m fine, Drift,:: he said. ::Just, uh, need some advice.::

::Just advice? Not a rescue? Rewind and Perceptor managed to map out a way down to the shuttle bay, if you need an out.::

::No, no,:: he insisted. ::I’m just… I really don’t want to assume anything, but I think it’s possible my ship just asked me out?::

::Oh, yeah.::

::Oh, yeah?::

::I mean, she did,:: Drift said. ::Before you and Brainstorm broke free, she commed everyone, introduced herself, told them her favorite thing she knew about them, then asked about you.::

::Do I… want to know what she asked about?::

::Depended on the person. Swerve got interrogated about whether you’re available.::

::Swerve?::

::The Lost Light Insider pegged him for a rumor monger and she ran with it.::

::Cool. Great.::

::Hey. Really, you okay up there? Tailgate’s halfway through the vents, we can come get you, if you need.::

Rodimus pointed his gaze down to the deck, though he was too far away to see anyone individually. It was possible the ship’s exterior cameras were still streaming to the command screens, in which case Drift would undoubtedly catch his disapproval.

::Please make sure Tailgate doesn’t get squished, I don’t need Cyclonus seeking vengeance against our ship.::

::Sure. But seriously, Rodimus, are you okay?::

Rodimus spun his wheels with a flick.

::I’m fine. I just… isn’t this, I don’t know, kind of taking advantage?::

::I mean, she asked you, and—wait, are you interested?::

His engine heated up and Rodimus started to pace.

::I don’t know! Maybe?::

::Aw, Rodimus!:: He could imagine Drift’s face: goofy smile, softly dimmed optics. ::Hang on, I’m patching Ratchet in.::

::No, hang on, you don’t have to—::

::You’re saying yes?:: Ratchet demanded as the new connection crackled through.

::I don’t know,:: Rodimus insisted. ::I could? She’s attractive. And she knows a lot about me and hasn’t decided I’m worthless slag.::

::Rodimus,:: Drift chided.

::Hey, look, I’m not saying that about myself,:: he countered. ::Just that it’s a conclusion she could have come to, but didn’t. And I guess I kind of like that?:: He shrugged. ::I wouldn’t mind getting to know her. First new Cybertronian we’ll meet for a long time, you know?::

::Sure,:: Ratchet said. ::Follow her lead, but be up front about your expectations.::

::Both of you will have bots looking out for you,:: Drift promised. ::Seems like she and Nautica are already hitting it off pretty well.::

::Alright.:: Rodimus smiled. ::Okay, thanks guys. I think I can handle it from here.::

::Sure you can,:: Drift said.

Rodimus cut the call and switched back to Lost Light’s channel. Brainstorm was wandering around behind him, still engaged in his own animated conversation with his creation.

::Still with me?:: he asked.

::Of course.::

::Great,:: he said, offering her a smile and a flicker of his headlights. ::So, yeah, I’m down to spend more time together.:: He leaned down until he was sitting, crosslegged, on her open palm, brushing the smooth metal with his own hand. ::You can tell me all about what it was like that time we were getting chased by space pirates.::

::I look forward to it,:: she said. The platform of her hand drifted closer, until Rodimus could have reached out and brushed his fingertips against his facemask. He could have felt afraid, then, but he didn’t. Instead, he felt a warm light in his spark as he regarded Light, the familiarity and comfort that came with meeting an old friend face to face for the first time.

[thedegenerateasexual]

horrible stories i have about supernatural porn

this isn’t a blog that i usually post spn content on but my main blog is sfw because i have some minors following it so like  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ anyway these are stories about porn, not porn stories themselves (i do have a link for the last one, but i don’t want to post it in public, because i’m a firm believer of not making fun of fanfic in public). im putting it behind a cut because it’s absolutely gonna ruin your day. if you’re in the polycule you can reblog this bc not everyone has my sideblog but if you’re sitting there going “what’s the polycule” then you can’t

for context, i was on the kmeme for spn in early 2009 before it became nothing but extreme underage and dog porn. i watched it transform into the uh place it is now and eventually bailed. two of the worst spn porn stories i can think of are as follows:

story the first: the spn kmeme had a very strict policy of no kinkshaming. everything is allowed, even underage, bestiality, etc. there was some discourse on the kmeme once about HOW young is too young, exactly? because someone posted a request for filling involving john/sam but sam was, yes, AN INFANT. there was a lot of back and forth about whether or not the person requesting was being a troll and whether or not the people on the request thread were kinkshaming. eventually they ruled in favor of this prompt. it was filled twice.

story the second: i was long gone by the time this posted but it still made waves over to where i was and it’s like, a classic leopards ate my face moment but also it makes me want to die. the kink meme both 1. allows bestiality and 2. has a section for rpf. so obviously the kmeme being what it is there was quite a bit of j*red p*dalecki fucking his dog. i don’t know why. it’s UTTERLY cursed. anyway, the dog died (very sad) and so someone posted a combination prompt of.........rpf/bestiality/NECROPHILIA. they wanted to see the dog being given a, how can we put this, final goodbye. cue more discourse similar to the above. THIS prompt was eventually ruled as a troll prompt and was taken down (but the other one was fine?!?!?!)

stories i have that don’t involve the kink meme: the artist mythagowood. DO NOT GOOGLE “mythagowood supernatural” unless you are prepared to see truly unsettling things. this person photoshops images of the cast engaging in tentacle porn, mpreg, prolapse porn, etc etc. the most famous of all of these is “ass bees” which involves j*red p*dalecki spreading them to his prolapsed asshole covered in, well, yeah, you get the idea. there was a rumor going around that this infamously horrible art is what inspired the “bees?” card in CAH, but no one has ever been able to prove it one way or another

other things: for a christmas event i was participating in, everyone was supposed to prompt 5 things they wanted and then fill at least one prompt someone else left. i thought of four prompts, but blanked on a fifth, and then as a joke i added “draw dean like one of your french girls - wearing this one only this” and posted a picture of the samulet. lo: one of the most famous artists in the fandom actually took me up on it. full frontal. hyperrealistic. it was...incredible. i’ll always be grateful for the hard work she must have put in.

and finally, for a tamer and less cursed example: my favorite dean castiel fic is the one where cas can’t nut until dean says his full name (castiel winchester, obviously). the first time i read this and liveblogged it at @maulthots i laughed so hard i cried. we have spent an inordinate amount of time since committed to the bit:

Sam at the worst possible time: Castiel Winchester Cas: UNNGGHHH

someone: hey whats your full legal name castiel: already crossing his legs

Cas applies for a driver's license and then gets arrested for public indecency

cas goes in to sign the adoption papers for jack and the pen starts shaking in his hand social worker: and the last name? cas: HNNNNNNHGGGH

dean loses cas in a walmart and gets them to make an announcement over the pa and knows which direction to go by following the sound of the nut

cas gets pulled over for speeding and they ask for his license and he has to carefully keep his eyes off of the place where he signed his name cop: castiel winchester huh cas: HHHHHHHRRRG

dean and cas get into a pizza earing contest and cas successfully finishes the last slice. sam stands up and proclaims, "castiel wins--" "HUUOOOGGGGGH"

cas turns on the television ready to enjoy a nice relaxing evening of genre tv oh no. its the vampire diaries OH NO...HIS EYES DRIFT TO THE CORNER C W  “HRRRRRRRKKK”

anyway. it’s a really good fic. i won’t name it in public because it’s rude to make fun of fics in public but absolutely DM me if you want the link. it’ll make you cry i swear

[tsaritsa]

THE KING AND QUEEN OF AMESTRIS – AN EXCLUSIVE LOOK INTO THE WEDDING OF THE YEAR

by Violet Whittaker and Laura Richter for PRIMA Magazine (photographs supplied by Wolffe Photography)

“We never thought this day would happen.” It’s the event Amestris has been waiting for with feverish anticipation – the wedding of Führer Roy Mustang to Lieutenant-Colonel Riza Hawkeye. Violet Whittaker and Laura Richter follow the pair on their wedding day and gain some insight into the private lives of the most talked-about people in the country. 

It is a new experience for the leader of the nation, after a frantic year of picking up the mantle left in his wake by a country transformed almost overnight into a democracy. Nobody could say that the transition, led by the former Führer President, George Grumman, was not without its issues. But even as then-General Roy Mustang was sworn in after a historical vote that saw the Amestrian public having a say in their future for the very first time, nobody could have expected this new presidency to usher in such a feeling of hope and anticipation for what lies ahead. Mustang’s views, well-articulated from his campaign and debates, resonated deeply with the country – resulting in a landslide victory that proved the man and his vision for the future were unparalleled.

But it seems he’s met his match in his bride, the woman who has been one step behind him for almost his entire career in the military and politics. Riza Hawkeye, is a force to be reckoned with in her own right, with a much-decorated military career spanning back to her tender years as a teenager. An ever-present shadow in the background of many a press photo, Lieutenant-Colonel Hawkeye oversees her fiancé’s security detail – a job, she admits, that never seems to stop even when she’s off the clock.

On a quiet Thursday morning, the craggy, snow-dusted tops of the Cremil Ranges provide an unforgettable backdrop to today’s event. The blushing bride and groom are radiant since tying the knot in a gorgeous, relaxed and deeply personal ceremony overlooking Lake Mély, the place where they became engaged just over a year ago. It’s a sentimental moment to reflect on their romantic – and emotional – exchange of vows.

“When I saw her for the first time I choked up a bit,” the Führer confesses to PRIMA, never taking eyes off the now First Lady. “I was blown away. I knew I would be, but more so than I thought. She was beautiful.”

There is no pomp, no circumstance and none of the stiff formalities one might expect with such a high-profile wedding. Instead, it is a ceremony filled with laughter and joy, influenced by the couple’s own down-to-earth, understated and old-fashioned romance.

Flanked by his groomsmen, a beaming Roy is positioned under an arch that was created especially for this event. The groom waits patiently as the guests take their seats. But nerves that never made themselves known on the political ground seem to take over Roy, looking exceptionally clean-cut in his Mikhail Abel suit, keeps sneaking glances at the point where Riza will emerge.

The groom has spent the morning with his old military buddies at a friend’s house in the idyllic town of Lyford, East Province, while Riza, 32, gets ready with her small contingency of bridesmaids at the nearby Watkin Lodge, where the reception will be held afterwards. In high spirits, she manages to laugh about the less-than-favourable weather forecast as the radio plays in the background. Between each song, you can hear the messages of congratulations from the public being passed along by the radio hosts.

“We’re unbelievably humbled by all the support,” she says, fiddling with her earrings – which are, in a nod to tradition, her ‘something old’. Her veil has been borrowed from her maid of honour, a modest piece with delicate lacing detailing the edges. Her new wedding dress follows in a similar fashion – a simplistic A-line design that allows the bride’s beauty to shine through. The high neck and long sleeves are a choice that will undoubtedly be imitated by other brides, despite her protests that she is nothing of a ‘fashion icon’. Her simple, uncluttered approach has quickly made an impression with the public, with garments being sold out within days after she’s pictured wearing them.

However, Riza admits that she found herself a little stumped by the ‘something blue’.

“Honestly, I should’ve just worn the dress uniform – that would’ve covered it nicely.” The pragmatism is a refreshing change that reflects not only on Riza’s character, but the overall direction in which the Mustang’s wish to guide the country towards. In the end, her bouquet has been threaded with forget-me-nots, with bright yellow splashes of coronella and pink peonies.

Before long, cars are arriving, and last-minute adjustments are being made before the bridal party sets off for Lake Mély. The freshly-woven crown of clover is the last accessory to be added, pinned into her hair with care.

As he sees his bride finally appear, Roy’s eyes light up and that familiar, dazzling grin plays across his face – though this time it is a lot softer and meant for only his bride. Guests beam, and in some cases, shed tears as Riza walks past. But the real waterworks come out when their vows are spoken, small speeches that can only scrape the surface of a relationship that has gone back decades. There is large whooping from the guests when Roy calls Riza ‘his queen’, and similar cheering when Riza takes a moment to compose herself mid-speech, blinking furiously and promising in no uncertain terms that she will follow him anywhere.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve felt butterflies in my stomach,” Riza tells after the ceremony, smoothing down the silk of her dress. “But it wasn’t nervousness. Why would it be?” Here, she shoots a rare smile to her new husband. “It’s like you’ve been imagining this insurmountable obstacle and then you actually see it and realise it’s not as bad as you thought. I remember seeing you standing there and all I could think was – ‘oh, there you are. I’ve been waiting for you’.”

Both openly admit that marriage was never on the cards for them originally – with their positions as superior and subordinate for so long during their careers in the military, working together meant that any feelings the couple had for one another had to be buried deep, and never explored. “To say that there was a day when I didn’t love Riza Hawkeye, and then a day where I did is completely wrong,” Roy says. “Ever since I met her, I knew she would be a person who would have a monumental impact on my life. But we both knew that there were more important things to do than complain about where our choices left us.”

The two of them share a long and complicated history, most notably marred by the Ishvallan Civil War. Both served during the conflict, and the pair have always remained tight-lipped about their experiences there. But the choice to share their wedding with the public was not an easy one to make.

“We appreciated that there was a lot of interest,” Roy says diplomatically. “And we wanted to acknowledge the widespread support we’ve received following the announcement of our engagement.”

The following reception is rumoured to be legendary, but strictly a private affair. For the guests invited, it is sure to be a party filled with plenty of laughs and stories (both inspiring and embarrassing) about the couple. For the rest of us? Perhaps a reminder that love can be found and expressed in unassuming ways, and that you don’t need big flashy displays to reflect the years of quiet devotion that all of us can only dream of one day having.

The entire team at PRIMA Magazine wishes the newlyweds all the best in their new marriage.

(this piece was originally written for @royaizine​ and i finally remembered to upload it here! this is in the same fashion as my ‘hawk’s eye: definitive interview’ piece. please go and check out what everyone else did in the zine! there’s some truly spectacular writing and art created bc of it <3)

[redrobin-detective]

Y’all got me jazzed up so let me talk about the immortal Wizard Billy AU that I’ve been playing with in secret (tried to write a fic sort of maybe abandoned it?)

Okay so, same shtick, Billy is a homeless kind-hearted 11 year old chosen by the Wizard to be his champion but also, when the previous Shazam died, passed on the mantle of the Wizard as well. Except it’s 1939. Billy does his Captain Marvel thing for awhile alongside Mary Marvel and Captain Marvel Jr., fighting the good fight and loving life not really aware of his other responsibilities. It’s a few years in when Freddy and Mary are growing up and Billy is still stuck at 11 that they realize something is up. 

It’s a devastating realization at the time as he sees that he’s not going to be able to grow up alongside his family. It’s at this time Captain Marvel disappears from the world and he dedicates himself to being the Wizard full-time. I’d like to think before he gives up Cap he there for the first wave of heroes and has a hand in forming the JSA. He was on his way to bonding with the heroes of old when he learned the truth and left without a trace. Mary and Freddy continue on as his first official Marvels for many years until they give it up to pursue real life goals. They remain very close as they grow, Freddy died young(ish) but Mary only recently passed of old age which really was a blow to Billy as he now has nothing left of his old life.

So as the Wizard, Billy is the center of all magic. The magic lives in and is nourished by his spirit and while he can’t do things like rewrite reality he’s still one of the most terrifyingly powerful beings out there. Not that he ever uses it as such bc hes a bean. The previous Shazam was a hermit who did kind of less than the bare minimum of his job and magic was kind of a free for all. Billy decides to step up and be better. He serves not only as the Guardian of Magic but also an ambassador/king/spiritual figure. He is very engaged with the magical world, settling disputes, serving as a friend/mentor to all who needs it. There’s trial and error but after 80 years of working out the bumps, he’s got a decent handle on his job. 

The majority of magic society LOVES the hell out of their boy king, think about how people go nuts for the British royal family. You never know what you’re gonna get with Wizards but Billy is kind and understanding and actually steps outside of the Rock to see the real world. He’s got quite a following, probably has guards watching out for him at all times. Because there’s also a strong minority who hates having an active Wizard. They don’t like what he’s doing and they’re threatened/jealous of his power. Bill controls all magic, he has awesome powers but also has his hands on the off switch and that terrifies lots of people.

Billy is still fundamentally human. So I want to make clear that Billy is 11, he has been alive for almost a century but he’s still 11. He is mature, wise, has lots of outdated slang but he is still is a child at heart, he’s just been 11 for a long time. He stills needs to eat, he gets tired early, has a tiny child bladder and most importantly, he has human weakness and can die if you get past all his magic. If Billy dies before he properly passes on the Wizard mantle then the magic will be loose for anyone to grab, chaotic, out of control and a major disaster. The fact that Billy is small, vulnerable and puts himself out there so readily makes a lot of people nervous. He has a secret weapon, hardly ever used though and that is he never officially gave up Captain Marvel, he just stopped transforming. Should he find himself in over his head all he need do is call upon his predecessor and Cap will live once more. Almost no one knows he was Cap nor that he kept the powers.

Okay so we’re in the modern era, the second great era of heroes is here. As more magical beings enter the League, they speak lovingly of the boy king, the Wizard who watches over all magic. Soon the JLA and Billy have an arrangement that all major magical disputes go through him first to try to diffuse without violence which doesn’t always work out but they still try. The League is pretty damn weirded out by Billy and they fall in one of two modes: treat him like an adult or treat him like a child where he is neither. He has the wisdom of an adult but the body and soul of a child. Only the kids get him and he gets on very well with them. Often Heroes will send their sidekicks to Billy because they just don’t know how to properly interact with him. The magical heroes also get it, it’ll never not be weird to see the stoic and unimpressed Jason Blood kneeling and reverently swearing himself before a kid in a Ramones tee and dirty sneakers.

Billy has had many Marvels over the years, all of them kids, most but not all came from tragic circumstances. The current Marvels are three foster kids: Darla, Eugene and Pedro (see what I did there). While he is a kid himself his Marvels are also HIS kids. He never feels more like an adult than when dealing with his champions. He loves the HELL out of those children and basically becomes a second parent to them. Kids are so adaptable that none of them think its weird that a 16 year old Marvel is having their hair petted and worries soothed by an 11 year old in a cape. Billy’s just like that, they love him so much and still stay in contact even when they decide to return their powers. I’ve gone back and forth on Billy as Marvel, on the one hand him keeping it hidden and it only coming out in dire circumstances and everyone’s like WHAT is fun. But also Billy losing the last of his old life (Mary) depresses him so much, the resurgence of heroes makes him want to build new bonds that will last and he joins as just another Marvel not telling anyone who he really is. Living JSAs are like ‘woah you went out for milk 70 years ago and never came back’. Idk I think its cool.

Bleh this is getting long, one last section on Billy himself. Billy is an odd one to pin down. He’s so painfully kind and warm and open and you just immediately feel safe and comfortable when you’re with him which is disarming in its own way. He’s very quietly wise, only giving advice when asked and carries himself with a sense of regal duty. But on the other hand he’s also very childish and silly and likes to goof off a lot and pull pranks and go see cool things. He rough houses with his Marvels/sidekicks, he swears like a sailor, he l o v e s memes and though he isn’t always up to date he can talk the talk with other kids. He’s a conundrum, both adult and child and neither all at once. He’s vaguely unsettling to adults because he doesn’t fit into any one box, to kids he’s just like that. Billy Batson is a hero when he can be, a Wizard he didn’t want to be but still does his best and friend to all who are willing to take his hand. 

[warsraging-a]

hc + pokémon-team (& Tony)

send ‘hc‘  + a word, get a headcanon!  |  @immortalxdreamers

under the cut bc boy did i get carried away here.

the first pokemon tony effectively catches (he’s more of a researcher rather than a trainer) is a fletchling. when he was much younger, he found one hanging about in his backyard. though he wasn’t so much about catching pokemon, he had always somewhat envied the closeness trainers had with their pokemon. he wasn’t really sure what he was doing for most of it, having no other pokemon to help weaken it either, but thankfully the fletchling didn’t put up much of a fight. it was quite a young pokemon as well, and so it allowed for tony to catch it with ease. they became close very quickly, and it didn’t take long before it evolves into a fletchinder. even as it grows bigger, it still hasn’t lost the habit of standing on tony’s head.

a long time goes by before he “catches” a ditto. he comes across it while it’s mimicking a kabutops (which obviously catches tony’s interest due to it being a fossil pokemon), until it reveals its true form. this is tony’s first time actually seeing a ditto with his own eyes, and he plays it off casually like so you can really turn into anything, huh? and cue ditto transforming into a series of different things, tony himself included. he finds it incredibly amusing, and just straight up asks ditto if he wants to go back with him since he has a bunch of cool stuff back at home for ditto to change into. it later becomes an crucial part of his plans to prank rhodey and happy (and also to cover for him when he has to more than one thing on his calendar to tend to).

he finds an araquanid next, or rather, it finds him. tony’s lab is nothing if not messy, and with araquanid’s knack for going after things it likes to store in its bubble, it’s the perfect place for it. this obviously ends up with tony trying to wrestle with a giant spider for one of his gadgets, and after being bubbled in the face, he kind of lets it have this one. the araquanid comes back, though, this time to bring him pieces of scrap metal it found lying around; tony does always manage to turn them into something nice, after all. tony never actually catches this one either, it just kind of hangs out in the lab most of the time, much to pepper’s dismay.

catching a dedenne wasn’t exactly in his plans either. tony had read up on the species and learned how useful their electrical skills were for his work. he hadn’t expected it to be so cute, though, and it does throw him off a little at first. after being his dismissive self and poking its cheeks, of course he gets zapped; at least it serves as a small demonstration of its power, anyway, and it convinces tony to catch it. the moment he gets back, rhodey’s already at the door teasing him for getting such a cutesy companion. tony acts annoyed on principle, and most of the time, he can’t be as affectionate and give dedenne as much attention it wants; still, tony cares for it a lot regardless, and they make a very good team.

when he comes across a shinx in the street where he lives, tony can immediately tell it’s a stray rather than a wild pokemon, always around humans and trying to find food scraps. he only lasts a few days of passing by it before going off to buy it food. it becomes a bit of a habit, for tony to stop by his usual spot with fletchinder on his shoulder to feed the stray. it helps that the two pokemon get along, and before tony knows it, it’s already following him home. he’s far from heartless, and if anyone asks, he’s simply not kicking it out, rather than letting it stay. it can be a bit of a hassle sometimes, having two very playful electric types under the same roof. tony certainly doesn’t appreciate the occasional blackouts in his lab, but he can’t find it in him to send the poor guy away either; it’s part of the team already.

lastly, he catches a bulbasaur, somewhat spontaneously, too. tony first sees it sunbathing in his backyard, storing up sunlight for its bulb. he doesn’t pay it much mind initially, but oftentimes he’ll peek out the window to get a better look. botany’s far from an interest of his, but he can’t help but feel a little intrigued by bulbasaur and its biology. with fletchinder’s help, he actually engages in a battle for once to catch it; with type advantage on his side, it’s an easy match. apart from tony’s studying, bulbasaur keeps to itself mostly. tony lets it hang out in the backyard as much as it wants, and though quiet and sometimes serious, it’ll sometimes wander back into the lab and sleep in the vicinity of tony’s workstation, just for company’s sake.

[fansplaining]

Hi guys! I recently marathoned Black Sails and i loved it! the only thing I'm sad about is that i didn't watch it in real time... I don't care if my ship is cannon, but I found that seeing it all at once means i know what happened to everyone, and I'm having a hard time shutting it off. I want to be into it, bc there are so many characters and ships i like in BS, but i don't know how to make the story feel open for exploration. any ideas or thoughts on how to incept myself into BS fandom?

Hello! Of course Elizabeth is answering this. This is a GREAT ASK, thank you, and not just because the entry point to this question is Black Sails ⚓⚓⚓. 

(I’ll have you know this is one of, like, three gifs of Flint smiling in the entire series. I also googled “Black Sails happy” and…no one looked happy.)

OK so it seems like there are a few things going on here. Apologies for taking what’s ostensibly about one show and turning it into something broader, but I think it gets at fundamental questions of fannish engagement, so I’M GOING IN.

1) Watching/reading a series all at once 

Flourish and I talk about this one a lot, because we (and many others) have observed that younger/newer Harry Potter fans approach characters and plot elements VERY differently than we do, and we chalk a lot of this up to reading the books as a complete text versus reading it with miserable long gaps in which to turn over every freakin detail only to have 75% of it jossed when the next book came out. In 2002 I legit read this one page of Dumbledore dialogue in GoF 100 times thinking there was a clue that was just…under…the surface.

I think that with some texts and with some fans, the serialized nature of TV and book series are the way in—we climb into those gaps and lingering there, waiting and obsessively turning things over and imagining all the branching possibilities, all the future reveals, all the resolutions, is part of the pleasure. I sure as hell wouldn’t have fallen for Sherlock if I hadn’t shown up to poke at the gaping emotional wound between s2 and s3. (Frankly if you showed me all four seasons at once I’m not sure I’d even like the show—my lingering emotional loyalty was the only thing that kept me saying anything nice about s4.) 

If I had not watched Black Sails all in one go it would have been LITERAL TORTURE FOR ME. I had to pause for a week while traveling and I started to read fic that actually spoiled parts of the fourth season WHOOPS. :-/// But I can also understand how watching it all in one go wouldn’t give you enough space. But then, we watched the same way and I am deep in it, plotting out fic and everything. So maybe… 

2) A complete text can stay with you but might not give you a way in

This happens to me with books *all the time*. I’ll read something that shakes me—I’ve often used the metaphor “knocks your world off its axis” when describing a really great book, like it can be the subtlest tilt and you’ll feel like everything’s changed. I think it’s pretty normal for texts to stay with you? If they’re good or if they touch you in some specific way? Especially if you’re fannish and really feel the media you’re consuming.

But one thing I often find about books is they’re more…complete. Even when television shows end properly, rather than being cancelled, they might stretch for longer than what was initially planned, for example, so it doesn’t feel like the arc of the plot was as carefully constructed—often it can’t be, especially with long-running American shows (and of course with classic episodic television, say, a monster-of-the-week show, it’s not even structurally designed to have the same sort of ~ABCDE structure as a novel might). 

Black Sails is not one of those shows—they knew they were bringing the story to a close, and the entire show rests on carefully-plotted narrative arcs. (Not to mention there was an actual ~canonical endpoint for all the Treasure Island characters, ie where the book begins (like, sort of). I mean, there were also canonical endpoints for Jack, Anne, Vane, Blackbeard, Hornigold, and every other historical figure, but…)

Over the years I’ve joined fandoms for WIPs as well as finished products, and often for me fandom’s been a way of trying to mend the wounds of a media property I found incomplete, either narratively (with bad writing) or literally (like, when a show ends abruptly). I think for some fans, this is a crucial piece—they say that when they find something too complete, there’s nothing to mend. 

3) Different modes of fannish engagement

So here’s another thing I’ve observed—different friends have different definitions of “fandom.” So people are like, “Oh yeah, I’m in the fandom, I love that show!” And I find out that means they enjoy the show and livetweet it and look at some gifs and that’s that. Which is totally fandom! And then there’s me, nodding nervously as I debate mentioning that, “Oh yeah, I’m in the fandom, I love that show!” for me means “THIS IS THE ONLY THING I WANT TO THINK ABOUT, HELP ME, I AM DROWNING.” It’s funny, sometimes I think about archetypal nerdboy fandom and its dick-measuring fact recitation, and then I think about all the times I tried to read the room to see if it was safe to let another person know how much I thought about something I loved, how much I felt about it. Even in totally fannish spaces, I still hesitate. :-/

There have been some things in the past few years that I’ve really enjoyed and toyed with checking out fandoms for, but what I’ve come to realize over the years is for me, it needs to be like falling in love. I think for some people, interest and obsession grows, and for others, you fall in head-first. And for others still, it depends on the thing. 

I understand this ask might have been specifically looking for resources or suggestions and while I’d just say if you’re not feeling it in this way, that’s cool, there are lots of different ways to fan, and you can keep thinking about something even if you aren’t drawn to, say, create transformative works about it? But maybe I should say something about Black Sails in particular…

4) Black Sails-specific: unreliable narrators and transformative works

If anyone hasn’t finished Black Sails, stop reading here, I’ll keep it vague but there’s only so much I can do. This is one thing that’s especially interesting to me about this ask: while I’m going on about how final and precisely plotted it all was, it’s not…that final. Because the entire point of the show is about narrative, right? Who gets to write them, who gets to own them, how they can be manipulated, how they shape “civilization.” Characters constantly talk—and constantly show—how both Flint and Silver (and, like, most of the characters, from Max to Thomas to Vane to Woodes Rogers) are these masterful shapers of narrative. Flint is the victim of clashing narratives: what’s actually happened to him, what he tells the world he’s doing, what he’s actually doing (note that explosive scene when Miranda calls him on this, ahhh I love Miranda). But the show’s choice to shift to Silver’s narration to wrap up events is a really fascinating one: the man who works so hard to obscure his past, laying out the narratives of the future. Should we believe him? 

I recommend this interview with creators Johnathan Steinberg and Robert Levine—the Flint section at the start is really delightful if you’re into artists being super into open-interpretation of their work. “Do we have a sense of what we imagine is happening?” Steinberg says when asked if we should believe Silver’s speech to Madi. “Yes, but if I was someone else, I wouldn’t want to watch it with my interpretation coloring it.” They talk about how this is essentially a transformative work (they don’t use that term)—a certain decision “made sense as a way to both acknowledge the book and spin it.”

So this is like the literal opposite of, say, JK Rowling, who seems intent on letting us know every freakin detail of canon and post-canon and seems genuinely unhappy at the idea that people will interpret things in ways that “aren’t true.” (At least in interviews I’ve seen/read of hers in the past few years.) Steinberg and Levine seem to be the ultimate “open to interpretation” guys, which really is like this big blank slate for fandom building on and playing with this world they’ve created. That being said, if oppositional fandom is your cup of tea—if you love fic and fandom as a corrective, as a way of wrestling a creator over the text—then the, “Go for it, interpret however you want” thing is probably not super appealing. 

This is the first time in my entire fandom life, going on two decades now, that I have simultaneously been really satisfied with a show’s ending and still wanted to write and read fic. And that seems…weird to me? So I don’t think it’s that weird that it wouldn’t work for someone. TL;DR: I’d just say if it happens, it happens. But it’s OK to love something and not find a way into the fandom. But if that changes for you, I’ll be there. :-)

[fromchaos]

50 ~little sarchengsey things~

1. who is the early bird/ who is the night owl?

well,,, they are all modern day teens, so not a single one is actually an early bird. normal bedtime for blue and henry is 1-2am, and gansey joins them when he thinks he can sleep. henry is best at mornings tho.

2. who is the big spoon/ who is the little spoon?

i’ve said it before and i will say it again: blue is the supreme big spoon. she hates being in the middle. if gansey’s insomnia is flaring up, henry goes in the middle. if henry’s claustrophobia is worse that night, gansey goes in the middle.

3. who hogs the cover/ who loves to cuddle?

they all love to cuddle when they’re awake/falling asleep, but they are all rude and grabby when they’re unconscious. the first few weeks they share a bed, blue regularly wakes up on the floor having pulled the covers so hard she launched herself off the side.

4. who wakes the other one up with kisses?

blue or henry depending on who wakes up first. blue cares more about morning breath, so she does it less often than henry. gansey has either been up all night and is too exhausted to be super affectionate or he’s too in his head when he wakes up naturally and sort of forgets the others are there. however, he very much likes morning kisses from his bf and gf U u U

5. who usually has nightmares?

HOO BOY. MORE LIKE WHO DOESN”T, AM I RIGHT LADIES?

6. who would have really deep emotional thoughts at the middle of the night/ who would have them in the middle of the day? 

even tho gansey has terrible insomnia, i feel like he usually distracts himself and tries to stuff down the deep thoughts in the middle of the night, though he will engage in deep discussions with blue at 3am bc she likes it. henry’s late night thoughts are just faux-deep shitposts. then the next day they’re looking at the world’s biggest rubber band ball and gansey and henry are having existential crises. 

7. who sweats the small stuff?

ganseyyyboyyy does (but i think he’s also weirdly more zen after his 2nd death). he’s haywire in everyday life and deathly calm in a calamity. blue will get stressed if there’s A LOT of small stuff all building up at the same time, but is normally chill. henry can seem like a bit of a mess under pressure but actually things work out weirdly well for him most of the time. (think dirk gently lmfao)

8. who sleeps in their underwear (or naked)/ who sleeps in their pajamas?

i don’t think any of them have proper pajamas? comfy t-shirts and underwear all around. especially henry and blue stealing gansey’s t-shirts and underwear to sleep in.

9. who makes the coffee (or tea)?

gansey and henry each brought their own french press on the roadtrip lmfao. gansey usually winds up making it tho because one time henry was dared to mix a monster energy drink and black coffee and chug it by lee^2 and it killed his taste buds and his caffeine tolerance so he makes his way too strong now. blue starts the roadtrip hating coffee but by the end she’s a caffeine demon living off of gas station sludge.

10. who likes sweet/ who likes sour?

blue likes the two together (idk i find yogurt a bit of both so). gansey doesn’t really have a taste for either; he likes blander savory foods. henry likes sweet things, but more rich-sweet than sugar-sweet.

11. who likes horror movies/ who likes romance movies?

i can’t imagine any of them being super into horror??? if they watch a horror movie it’s just to rip apart the lore for inaccuracy. gansey and henry like romcoms and have to bribe blue to watch them with them. gansey’s faves are love actually and notting hill, and henry’s are you’ve got mail and he’s just not that into you.

12. who is smol/ who is tol?

blue < gansey < henry

that’s pretty much canon, but body type-wise i think blue is chubby all-over, gansey is pretty solidly built w/ broad shoulders, and henry is skinny but with a small beer belly lmao.

13. who is considered the scaredy cat?

tbh i don’t think any of them really fit that role? and when they do it’s because they’re traumatized??? i just can’t see them teasing each other for being afraid because they all know TRUE BONE-DEEP HORROR.

14. who kills the spiders?

blue carries the spiders outside. henry screams and gets up on the couch. gansey either doesn’t notice or just freezes in fear.

15. who is scared of the dark?

none of them usually? but certain scenarios can give any of them flashbacks, so i’d say more wary than scared?

16. who is scared of thunderstorms?

i could see henry being a little afraid of thunderstorms? and gansey is autistic, so he HATES thunder but isn’t exactly scared of it.

17. who works/ who stays at home?

they all work, but i’m not sure any of them have traditional 9 to 5 jobs? when they have kids, they probably spend equal amounts of time at home taking care of them. blue travels less at that point, but is sometimes gone for longer periods of time that she makes up for with long periods of time spent at home.

18. who is a cat person/ who is a dog person?

they are all cat people. blue loves all animals, but if she were to get her own pets, they would be cats. i’ve written about it before, but they have so many cats. they adopt like 5 and feed all the neighborhood strays and let them roam in and out of their home.

19. who loves to call the other one cute names?

oh wow NO IDEA who could that possibly be???

20. who is dominant/ who is submissive?

literally the only person gansey could dom is ronan r u kidding me?? that boy is subbier than a 5 dollar foot long. (then blue and henry are about equally weighted toward dom, like 6 or 7 on a scale of 1 to 10)

21. who has an obsession (over anything)?

obsession is literally what brings them together. they recognize that intense passion that drives all of them in each other. none of them could be with someone who wasn’t completely obsessed with something because it shows a lack of that passion. also, they’re totally obsessed with each other.

22. who goes all out for valentine’s day?

is it weird that i think it’s blue? she goes on some tirade about the commercialization of valentine’s day, how it’s a bullshit hallmark holiday, how it makes single people feel less than, blah blah blah, so henry and gansey figure they should keep it lowkey and just have a normal date or something. BUT the day-of blue has made them both extravagant cards and thoughtful homemade gits. because authentic love is best honored with DIY. (blue contains multitudes, y’all.)

23. who asks who out on the first date?

this is hard?? what’s a year-long roadtrip other than one humongous first date to woo your third partner? but real talk, post-trk, gansey realizes he and blue have never had an official date but also the only place in henrietta is nino’s and u can’t go on a date to a place u work, so they just go out for drives like they did before. and drives turn into daytrips. and datetrips turn into “oh henry you have to come with, you’d just love this place!” and suddenly polyamory happens.

24. who is the talker/ who is the listener? 

this like,,, isn’t really how relationships work lmfao. gansey is the most genuinely extroverted (henry can be super extroverted obviously, but that’s 50% for show), but unless the topic of discussion is one of his special interests, he’s more of an active listener than a talker. but a conversation with these 3 is basically all of them taking turns ranting because they are all very opinionated and have a lot to say.

25. who wears the other ones clothes?

blue will steal ur clothes and transform them so completely u hardly notice. both her and henry like wearing gansey’s shirts as pajamas, but they are all such different sizes and have such different styles that actual borrowing isn’t all that common. (tho blue does make clothes for henry pretty often)

26. who likes to eat healthy/ who loves junk food?

i don’t think any of them are super obsessed or even like,,, concerned with eating healthy, and they all have a good appetite for junk. henry probably has the most balanced diet tho because mrs. woo made all the litchfield boys eat dinner together on weeknights. (think traditional korean cuisine meets deep south comfort food, both of which love their side dishes) meanwhile, blue’s idea of a balanced meal is the signature dish of each 300 fox way lady and a yogurt. and gansey is an autistic boy who has been feeding himself for a few years, so he eats the same 3 things in various combinations.

27. who takes a long shower/ who sings in the shower?

blue is used to taking super fast showers with orla banging on the bathroom door, and gansey is perfectly perfunctory when it comes to hygiene, so henry. he makes 45 minute pop-filled playlists for his showers.

28. who is the book worm?

gansey. the others love reading and learning for sure, but gansey is the one with the overflowing bookshelves, half full of books he hasn’t read yet. and blue and henry like listening to him rambling about his recent reads like a human audio book because he’s a pretty good storyteller.

29. who is the better cook?

henry is the best cook, and he makes most of their meals once they’re settled down and living together. litchfield definitely had a chore wheel and all the boys took turns helping mrs. woo cook. gansey is used to eating takeout all the time, and blue only eats yogurt.

30. who likes long walks on the beach?

blue!!! she sees the ocean for the first time on the road trip and loooooves it. she’ll let the boys bury her in the sand without fuss because it’s like a lil warm cocoon. she doesn’t go too deep in the water, but she likes standing where the waves break and looking for signs of life underneath the sand. henry and gansey grew up taking vacations to tropical beaches on the reg, so it’s nothing novel or special for them, but they love seeing it through blue’s eyes!!!

31. who is more affectionate?

well i think it depends on the type of affection?? (warning: this is really fucking gay) henry is the most verbally affectionate with all the nicknames and the affirmations and the enthusiasm. sometimes he’s more reserved with deeper emotional statements, but he’s never cold or distant. blue is the most physically affectionate, wanting to be constantly touching and feeling her boys beside her. she always has an arm around someone’s waist or a hand on someone’s knee to ground them and herself. and with gansey it’s all in the eyes and the gestures. he’ll look at them like they’re magic and then suggest the perfect thing they need right at that moment. 

32. who likes to have really long (deep) conversation?

blue and gansey have really long deep conversations together where they dance around and circumnavigate the issues. henry cuts straight to the point in deep conversations because he’s been thinking about the thing for ages and just wants to get to the point and know their answers already.

33. who would wear “not guilty” t-shirt/ who would wear “sin” t-shirt?

oh jeez. either blue and gansey wear “not guilty” and henry wears “sin” or gansey and henry just dress normally while blue wears the “sin” t-shirt while trying to look her most badass?

34. who would wear “if lost return to…” t-shirt/ who would wear “i am…” t-shirt?

the boys definitely wear “if lost return to blue sargent.” someone has to be the sensible one.

35. who goes overboard on the holidays?

they probably all do in their own special ways. blue spends all of december making gifts for her loved ones that are filled with love and couldn’t come from anyone else. gansey gets people the one big perfect present he definitely spent way too much money on. henry overwhelms them with multiple small presents, each inspired by an inside joke they share or an offhand comment the person made and winds up spending as much as gansey.

36. who is the social media addict?

idk if he’s a social media ADDICT, but henry uses social media the most. blue grew up without a home computer or a smart phone, and gansey uses both for only 3 things: schoolwork, research, and GPS. so henry is really the only one that uses social media a Normal Teenager Amount. and he loves memes.

37. height difference or age difference?

height difference. i’d say gansey has 6 inches on blue and henry has 6 inches on him, so sometimes when they stand or walk together they look like cellular bars.

38. who likes to star gaze?

all of them. stargazing is one of their go-to date activities, especially for blue and gansey since it reminds them of their early days. they both have special individual things they do with henry too, of course.

39. who buys cereal for the prize inside?

either blue or henry depending on the prize. blue never got prizes as a kid bc they only bought generic cereal in the big plastic bags, and now she is living The High Life (more like the small luxury millennial life). henry is probably the one that first points out the cereals with the best prizes. gansey eats the cereal because he lovs the cronch.

40. who is the fun parent/ who is the responsible parent?

i feel like they have pretty good balance here?? gansey is a professor/writer so he stays at home with the kids most often and is about the same proportion of stern/pushover with them as he is with ronan in canon lmfao. the more deeply involved in a project he is, the more he can be convinced to let the rules slide. 

henry is an environmental activist with a nonprofit and an occasional lobbyist, so he has much more typical 9-5 hours. he is probably much more fun than gansey, but their kids think he is insufferably, adorably uncool with his retro pop music and graphic tees under blazers and nicknames. 

blue does ecological field research for weeks at a time and then comes home and writes papers for the next few months. she has 2 competing desires as a parent: 1. make up for lost time with lots of spoiling and 2. make up for lost discipline and moral instruction with lots of discourse.

41. who cries during sad movies? 

gansey and henry cry really easily at sad movies but like,,, rarely cry over real life stuff. meanwhile, blue is the opposite because she’s pretty bad at suspending her disbelief when interacting with fiction.

42. who is the neat freak?

i think blue and henry butt heads a little bit here because blue likes for everything to have its place and hates actual mess and unclean things BUT her idea of neat is a lot more cluttered and homey, very much inspired by 300 fox way. henry doesn’t clean often, but when he does he wants things to ACTUALLY be neat and tidy and put away. 

meanwhile, gansey has his office where chaos rules and only he knows where anything is.

43. who wins the stuffed animals at the carnival for the other one?

they probably go to a carnival or town fair on their road trip and gansey and henry compete to get blue stuffed animals (only 50% ironically) and blue gets mad and gets her own damn stuffed animal and then for good measure one for each of her boys.

44. who is active/ who is lazy?

idk about “”active”” as in fit and sporty but blue likes to keep herself busy. she always has 5 projects going and likes to get out of the house at least once a day even if it’s just for a walk around the block. gansey has homebody phases and active phases. henry feels like he works pretty hard and has enough adventures to justify a little bit of lazing about the house.

45. who is more likely to get drunk?

i mean, on the road trip if they’re drinking, they pretty much always all get drunk together unless a designated driver is needed in which case they take turns. gansey has the lowest tolerance tho, so he’s always first to get drunk.

and while henry and gansey are at school together, blue gets a lot of midnight facetime calls from her boys, sloppy drunk and over-affectionate and cute.

46. who has the longer food order?

it’s definitely gansey, and it’s definitely 50% a picky eater thing and 50% an entitled rich white man thing. like, okay, gansey ii seems like a good dad but he’s definitely that guy whose like “i’m a paying customer i deserve to get exactly what i want and am paying for,” and gansey sort of grew up seeing that as pretty normal, so he gives all sorts of unnecessary extra instructions to the waiter.

blue’s like “u know u can just tell them u don’t want pickles or onions on the burger, right? u don’t have to teach them step-by-step how to grill it. the waiter isn’t even cooking ur burger, tho know she is definitely spitting on it.”

henry chimes in a very helpful “yeah, stop mansplaining the burger.”

47. who has the more complex coffee order?

henry. gansey likes black coffee or ridiculous fraps, no in between. blue gets really simple coffees and totally makes them over at the counter w/ the cinnamon and vanilla and cocoa shakers. meanwhile, henry has to inquire as to whether the beans are ethically sourced and ask about all the specials and what is most popular and what does the barista like best and after all that just gets the thing he saw recommended on instagram the other day.

48. who loses stuff?

losing stuff? excuse you, this crew’s game is FINDING (bunch of hufflepuff wannabes). the only exception is gansey pulling a velma with his glasses.

49. who is the driver/ who is the passenger?

they rotate on the road trip because like,,, u gotta. but i think gansey likes driving the most, and henry likes it the least. when they’re in college and blue comes to visit, she does all the driving in her ecopig. henry always calls shottie no blitz because the passenger seat comes with all the best jobs: music duty, navigation, hand-holding, feeding french fries to ur s.o. in the driver seat, etc. if blue’s not driving, she actually likes the backseat best most of the time bc she can fully stretch out across it lmao.

50. who is the hopeless romantic?

ALL of these fools. have you HEARD their narration?!

[markgottliebliteraryagent]

Hollywood, NY & SF Book Fest Honorable Mention Recipient Andrew Buckley

Andrew Buckley is an editor for a small press, a professional copy and content writer, and a cohost for a geek movie podcast. He is the author of The Perils of Growing Up Werewolf series. His forthcoming book is The Fate of Freddy Mitchell, book one in the Dead Kid Chronicles, about when the fates of the underworld fail to capture a young soul at his scheduled time of death, and the very fabric of the universe begins to unravel—while the fates scramble to correct their mistake, he is forced to deal with a chatty crow, dark and sinister creatures hunting him through the night, a murderous gang of soul hunters, and the fact that he no longer appears to be as alive as he used to be. Andrew now lives happily in the Okanagan Valley, BC with one beautiful wife, three kids, one cat, one needy dog, and a multitude of characters that live comfortably inside of his mind.

Many of your books seem to have a humorous bent to them. What do you feel the comedic storytelling medium affords authors?

I’ve always thought comedy was a great way to break down barriers as it comes with an inherent sense of relatability. I don’t know that it’s quite as safe to do so today as it was ten to twenty years ago as people seem to take far more offense to things these days (thanks, internet)! However, comedic storytelling gives you the opportunity to attack a story from a different angle. It skews perspective and allows you to explore something in a different way. Also, who doesn’t love to laugh? Go on, name someone! Can’t, can you?

Are there any particular authors or books that have influenced you as a writer?

My favorite book of all time is The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams. It was the first real humorous bit of fiction I read back when I was around eleven or twelve years old. I’ve since read it twenty to thirty times. Adams' humor struck me as something special. It wasn’t that he was just being funny, he was doing it in such a smart and satirical way that it was impossible not to fall in love with it. His asides and tangents were almost as entertaining as the main storyline. He made a robotic sliding door have a personality! The man was a genius! I later also fell in love with Terry Pratchett’s work, and later still with Neil Gaiman (more Neverwhere than American Gods). Douglas Adams in particular has always had a strong influence on my writing and my sense of humor in general.

“I’ve always found a lot of inspiration in fairy tales and myths, and stories that teach some sort of moral lesson.”

Your children’s middle grade fiction series, The Perils of Growing Up Werewolf, begins with the title of Hair in All the Wrong Places…does it contain an important message about going through puberty?

It does! At least I hope it does. I’ve always found a lot of inspiration in fairy tales and myths, and stories that teach some sort of moral lesson. When I started writing about a teenage werewolf, I wanted to run his werewolf transformation story parallel with his journey through puberty. While the main character, Colin, is dealing with his new powers as a hairy creature of the night, he’s also struggling with hormones, girls, and homework. The lesson I wanted Colin and the readers to learn in that story is that even though your body changes as you get older, you’re still the same awesome person.

Werewolves seem to be the perfect engine for exploring what it means to go through bodily changes. Did any other monsters, such as vampires or zombies, previously come to mind?

The subject of teenage zombies was already covered very well by Isaac Marion’s Warm Bodies. I’d considered a vampire at one point, but it felt like they’d been done to death (pun intended). I always thought I had a really great werewolf story inside of me (I loved Michael J. Fox’s "Teenwolf" movie when I was a kid), and while this book started out as an adult werewolf novel, it quickly became apparent that the main character was meant to be a tween. The werewolf changes of more hair, confusion, and hunger, is basically puberty in a nutshell. What I’m saying is, all teenagers are werewolves.

Hair in All the Wrong Places was a Hollywood Book Fest, New York Book Fest, and San Francisco Book Fest Honorable Mention recipient. What was it like to win so many honors for your first foray into middle grade fiction?

It was certainly an honor to receive such honors. Joking aside, it’s always nice to be recognized for work you produce. Writing middle grade fiction was a surprising turn for me and occurred when I had young kids who wanted to read something I’d written. Hair in All the Wrong Places was the answer to “Dad, why can’t I read your books?”

“Being able to speak with teachers, librarians, and parents has been a great way to spread the word about my books...”

You seem to do a lot of speaking engagements at schools and libraries. Do you find these events to be a helpful way of connecting directly with your readership of parents, teachers, librarians and students?

In the last three years I’ve spoken to thousands and thousands of students, from elementary to middle schoolers, to high school students and beyond. It’s an interesting byproduct of writing for a younger audience. Connecting with students who have read or want to read my books has been amazing. I get lots of messages asking questions about the story and about the characters. Being able to speak with teachers, librarians, and parents has been a great way to spread the word about my books and word of mouth has been one of the driving forces behind me getting an increasing number of requests for speaking engagements.

How did you find your current literary agent and go on to get future books published?

Well it was a tricky process. I had to wait for a full moon, there was a sacrifice involved, and a lot of Latin. Once the incantation was over, the hellfire had all fizzled out, and the portal was completely closed, and there stood you, Mark Gottlieb from the Trident Media Group. Okay, fine! I didn’t summon you through some elemental dark magic. I was reading acquisitions for a small publisher and met you when you submitted some queries. What struck me was that we shared a similar sense of humor and so we hit it off. Your dedication and hard work has resulted in five of my books being sold to publishers. You're a supportive agent who has been instrumental in my career as an author and is always looking for new ways to push further, something I truly appreciate.

Earlier in your career, you were working as an editor at Curiosity Quills Press. Has a background in editing helped to inform your novel writing career?

It certainly has, without a doubt. For one thing, it introduced me to my agent. But working as an editor and consequently working with other editors has been one of the best learning experiences of my life. Every single time I work with an editor, without fail, I learn something new. As a consequence, my writing is constantly improving.

“...while it’s not an easy thing to get published, it’s the authors that persevere and keep trying that make it in the end.”

What have you learned from the book publishing experience, now as an author of multiple books? Do you have any wisdom to share with writers hoping to become published authors?

I teach a novel writing course that I developed and the final week in the series is dedicated to talking about the publishing industry. The main takeaway, and the best advice I can share is that while it’s not an easy thing to get published, it’s the authors that persevere and keep trying that make it in the end. If you quit after your first rejection letter, you’re 100% guaranteed to fail. However, if you keep going, take the rejections as they come (I received over a 100 rejections for my first novel) and continue working on your craft, you’ll get there in the end. Oh, and keep writing. That’s important. Nothing worse than a writer that doesn’t write.

Can you tell us a bit more about your forthcoming book The Fate of Freddy Mitchell, book one in The Dead Kid Chronicles series?

I’m not an author who is inspired by dreams... Except this one time. I dreamt about a teenage boy chatting with a talking crow. The crow was trying to explain to the boy that he was dead, and the boy was in denial and arguing back with the crow. I woke up and made notes for a new middle grade series: The DeadKid Chronicles' The Fate of Freddy Mitchell follows the title character through a darkly hilarious adventure of murder, mayhem, and supernatural shenanigans. It’ll be my first illustrated middle-grade chapter book and will be published in 2020 from Month9Books. Follow my social media for excerpts, news, cover reveals, release dates, events, and more!

[stopsubstanceabuse1-blog]

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