#BUT I struggle more with fanfic than my original ideas tbh so

[yvtro]

imo the more interesting tim&jason dynamic /is/ the "they're only like 2 years apart" one (esp wrt "jason was tim's robin"? seems (to me) to have more potential if it's like "this kid who is my age is doing cool shit, I want to do cool shit like them, because they're my age and that hits close to home") personally am genuinely unsure why "tim is a poor little meow meow" seems to be more popular despite how it fucks both their characterizations lol

i will answer to both of you here, as it's related to the same post!

just in case i want to say that there's plenty of aspects of tim's storyline that have lots of potential. and there certainly could be an interesting one involving jason too. alas.

i think in general fanon tim is just a poor little meow meow. it's really ironic how when he was introduced, the writers wanted to make him more "likable" than jay, and they didn't want batman to play a full-time dad, so in place of jay's insecurity and need for parental love tim gets two living parents and is, for the most part, self-assured. there's some canon progression which disturbs this status quo of course, but it's fanon that turned his storyline into one about neglect.

so apparently all writers should have done to make the new robin a fan favourite was keeping jason's struggles and just making tim wealthy. real "what's cool when you're rich but trash when you're poor?" moment. having attachment issues, apparently.

and don't get me wrong, there is place for meta about tim's parents being neglectful, even if the creators originally wanted to achieve the opposite. but i find the extent to which fanon pushes this idea and makes it his sole source of personality a bit astonishing, especially that canon tim, for the most part, doesn't share any of these issues. and personally, his initial motivations that stem from his fascination with vigilantism seem much more appealing to me.

as you said: "this kid who is my age is doing cool shit, I want to do cool shit like them, because they're my age and that hits close to home." maybe it's a bit simplified, but tim being just a child who gets himself into something much bigger than himself without really realising the consequences – and essentially both traumatising himself as a result (while also finding family, one does not exclude another) is a pretty fascinating concept.

and like. canon tim is plenty weird about jason, okay. so i think their confrontation at some point would be interesting. and probably awkward.

btw we don't actually get to see jason and tim's first interactions after jay's resurrection. i said it before, but for christ's sake, the teen titans tower incident is no longer canon, and for a good reason, especially that in that era jason is portrayed as having a psychotic break and tim hates his guts and calls him deranged?

how do you derive an enemy to caretaker trope from this is beyond me tbh. it sounds good in theory, right, because it refers to jay's inherent kindness, but you do have to make them "enemies" in the first place, or at least jason the aggressor – which you need to follow the ableist storyline for (i really doubt jason would actually care about tim much if he was more stable, and he definitely wouldn't want to hurt him), and all i can ask is: why. find something new.

i don't know, if there's any actually interesting tim & jason fanfics that don't follow these cliches you should let me know, because the majority of the tag definitely isn't for me.

#answered #okay i will tag it as #anti tim drake #just in case #jason todd #dc comics

[silvfyre-writings]

The Boy with Emerald Eyes Pt. 4 (BSD Fanfic)

Hello, hello, welcome back to paperboy, it's certainly been a while hasn't it? A lot's been happening recently, and I do apologise for the delay it took in getting this chapter out. Life's just been hectic, and I've been struggling a bit, but I managed to do it.

Tbh with you all, I've lost the plot for this story entirely, I have no idea where it's going because the original plan I had was derailed (thank you Edgar), but I think I'm getting back on track, BUT IN SAYING THAT!

Do not expect an update until the new year. Why? Because I need a break. I'm tired, and this fic takes a lot of energy out of me. Of course, if I do happen to finish the next chapter before the new year, I will post it, but do not rush me; I am only human after all.

Anyway, without further ado, I bring you the new chapter, and I hope you enjoy <3

It was January 30th when Edgar opened his eyes and discovered that his attempt to drink himself to death had failed. Unlike last time where he had felt nothing but anger and despair over his failure, this time he felt nothing. It was as if he’d woken up with absolutely no feelings whatsoever. The anger and despair he’d expected to feel was nowhere to be found, and he didn’t even feel depressed at the realisation that he’d survived yet another attempt on his life. He just felt… empty, like his very soul had been sucked dry, but by what, he couldn’t say. All he could say, was that the emptiness wasn’t just in his mind, it was in his body too; limbs heavy and unwilling to move, eyes slow to blink and struggling to stay open.

Yes, Edgar was an empty man, and he’d finally come to accept it.

As his mind slowly came back to awareness, Edgar continued to stare at the ceiling, staring at the markings and indentations that marred the surface. He just stared and stared, counting cracks, and observing stains and—wait, I know this ceiling. The moment the thought came to him, the realisation dawned on him and he recognised where it was he’d ended up, and honestly, he would much rather have woken up on the streets. How was it, that both of his suicide attempts had failed and landed him in Ougai Mori’s clinic? Surely he couldn’t be that unlucky? Oh, but apparently he was, for the door to the room opened to reveal the doctor in question, and that was when Edgar began to pray for the building to just collapse on top of him and put him out of his misery. Because anything was better than being at the mercy of the man that had already treated and lectured him once before—never mind the incident with Ranpo—and the last thing Edgar wanted right now was another lecture about how bad he treated himself.

He'd had more than enough of that already.

The bed dipped by his side, and Edgar glanced over to see Mori sitting beside him. The doctor wasn’t looking at him, but Edgar could see the pensive look on his face, a look that could only come from dealing with someone like him; he didn’t fault Mori for wearing such a look, but he wished that he didn’t have to see it. He turned away, and rasped, “I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for this time, Mr Poe?” Mori sighed, leaning back on his hands as he shifted his gaze towards the ceiling. “For taking up one of my beds again? For scaring my friend’s ward again? For failing to commit suicide again? Please, do tell, Mr Poe, why are you sorry?” The words were harsh, but not spoken in anger, yet Edgar couldn’t stop himself from flinching as he heard them. He didn’t know how to answer Mori, didn’t know if he even wanted to. But he owed the man an answer, so he’d try at least.

“I don’t know…” Edgar sighed and closed his eyes. “I just… keep inconveniencing you, and your family. And you don’t deserve it, so I am sorry.”

“Then why do you continue down this path of self destruction?” Was it just him, or was there genuine sadness on Mori’s face?

Edgar sighed. “Because it’s the only path I know to walk on.”

Mori looked over his shoulder, staring right at Edgar as he asked. “Then why not ask for help?”

At that, Edgar laughed, a hollow sound devoid of the usual joy a laugh should be filled with. “Who would want to help me?”

Mori didn’t respond to Edgar’s question, just sighed, and pushed himself up from the bed, shoving his hands into the pockets of his coat as he continued to just stand there in silence. It was clear that the man was thinking about something, so Edgar didn’t say anything—not that he had anything to say in the first place—and just let the silence grow between them. Finally, after what felt like hours, Mori moved, making to leave the room seemingly without speaking whatever was on his mind. But when the doctor reached the door to Edgar’s room, he stopped, hand on the doorframe, and turned back to face him. The expression on Mori’s face was one of despair, and it was so strange to see it on Mori’s face that Edgar couldn’t turn away. Mori’s lips twitched into a sad smile, his eyes falling out of focus just enough to be noticed. “You’ll find that there were plenty of people willing to give you help, Mr Poe. You just drove them away before you realized that you needed the help in the first place.”

And if that didn’t just make Edgar feel even more guilty than he already was.

Nothing more was said as Mori left the room, shutting the door behind him, leaving Edgar alone to his thoughts. They weren’t thoughts he particularly wanted to be having, but it wasn’t like he had a choice, not unless he could get back to sleep within the next five seconds. Which he couldn’t, because once Edgar’s mind started thinking, it was hard for him to stop it. So as he lay there, thinking, he couldn’t help but start to think about how he’d ended up in the clinic again. His memory was completely unreliable; foggy at best, blank at worst, but Edgar usually was able to piece the basics back together whenever he struggled to remember.

The last thing he remembered was drinking an entire bottle of liquor; after that, there was nothing for him to recall. It was like someone had reached into his brain and plucked the memory from inside of it, taking it from him, hiding it where he’d never be able to find it. But there was something that he could remember. Green and warmth. He couldn’t recall what the green and what the warmth belonged to, but whenever he tried to think back, that was what he remembered.

And for once, he wished that he could remember, because that warm green seemed important.

He just didn’t know why.

Edgar was left alone until sunset, when the door creaked open and Fukuzawa stepped into the room with a tray of food in hand. Their eyes met—violet and steel blue—and Edgar began to regret ever waking up in the first place, because the expression on Fukuzawa’s face was not a happy one. Truly, out of all the expressions that Edgar had seen on that stoic face before now, this one was the worst, and that clearly told him just how much he’d messed up. Because he vaguely remembered the argument that he’d had with Fukuzawa’s ward upstairs, and the way he’d walked out without apologising despite the sheer amount of guilt he’d felt.

Ranpo…

And just like that, a memory slipped into place; worried green eyes attached to an equally worried face that mouthed words he couldn’t remember in the slightest, and from there it didn’t take long for him to realize that Ranpo had been the one to find him and bring him here. Again. No wonder Fukuzawa was staring at him with utter discontent; he would too if he were the older man. There was no forgiving what he’d done, especially when all that Fukuzawa and his family had done was show him kindness that he’d done nothing but throw back in their faces.

“You’ll find that there were plenty of people willing to give you help, Mr Poe.”

Edgar turned away first, casting his gaze to the blankets beneath his hands. His hands clutched at the blankets and he listened as Fukuzawa moved about, first placing the tray on the bedside table before sitting in the chair that’d taken up residence beside his bed. He waited until silence fell upon the room before he lifted his head, drawing in a breath. “I am sorry.”

Fukuzawa didn’t say anything, and Edgar did not dare look at him.

But he forced himself to keep speaking. “You, and Dr Mori, and Ranpo showed me nothing but kindness when I did not deserve it, and all I did was cast it aside. None of you deserved that, so I apologize.” Edgar risked looking up, and felt encouraged when he saw Fukuzawa focused on him, not angry or upset, but listening. “And I’m not expecting you to answer me, but… I think I remember Ranpo being the one to find me. Is he… alright?”

For a long time, Fukuzawa sat there, arms in his sleeves and eyes closed. And for a long time, Edgar sat there and waited for a response, fidgeting as time continued to pass by and still, Fukuzawa said nothing. Another minute passed, and Fukuzawa sighed, head dipping. “Ranpo is alright. But I have made the decision to keep you two from seeing each other.” The older man stood and tilted his head towards the tray of food. “I ask that you respect my decision and do not ask about Ranpo again. I also ask that you eat at least one thing. I will return in the morning.”

Right… makes sense. He’s just doing what he can to protect Ranpo. The words hurt, but Edgar understood why they were said in the first place. He nodded. “I understand.”

“Sleep well, Mr Poe.” Fukuzawa gave a slight bow before he turned on his heel and left the room.

And Edgar was alone, but this time he welcomed it, because it allowed him to think.

And he had a lot of thinking to do.

At first, Edgar tried to think back to his missing memories, hoping to recall at least something that would give him an inkling as to what had happened. There was a few things he recalled, such as the argument with Ranpo—that wasn’t really an argument, but more Edgar lashing out—along with the disagreement that he’d had with John and Frances. Now that had been an argument, at least… in Edgar’s drunken mind it had been, but suddenly he wasn’t too sure, and he couldn’t remember enough of it to accurately tell what actually happened. They were bits and pieces that were just out of reach—there and visible, but taunting him by flickering in and out of existence right in front of him.

He really wanted to remember.

But did he really? What good would remembering do him when the damage had already been done? Whatever he’d said and done had already happened, and that was that, there was no going back. There were no do-overs, no going back in time to tell his past self to stop and think, there was only the future; a future that he was apparently supposed to live for. How, he didn’t know, nor was he sure if he really wanted to, but it didn’t seem like he was being given much of a choice in the matter. Two failed suicides was enough to tell him that.

“We can’t help you if you don’t want to help yourself.”

Those were Frances’ words, one of the few things he did remember from that day, and he had to admit that his adoptive mother might’ve actually been right. If he actually wanted to be helped, then perhaps he had to actually ask for it and accept it. He wasn’t sure if that was possible, considering it was him, and that he’d been stuck in this spiral of alcohol and melancholy for two years now, but… maybe he could. Maybe he could reach out and ask for help? Maybe he could learn to stand on his feet again and find his way out the hole he’d long curled up in.

Because despite everything, there was still this little weird and obscure group of foreigners in some sort of makeshift family that were willing to lend a hand.

He remembered Ranpo telling him that pride was pointless, that it was overrated, and that it was better to live the way you wanted to live without thinking too much about what society thought, and Edgar remembered telling Ranpo that it didn’t really work like that. Because in the end, he and Ranpo lived wildly different lives, so of course it couldn’t work like that. But what if it did? What if Ranpo had had the right idea this entire time and Edgar had just been too blind to see it?

“Sure, I could take pride in myself, but what’ll that get me, really? Kicked to the ground by people who had more pride?”

At first, the words hadn’t made sense to him, but now they kind of did, because that was exactly what had happened to him. He’d taken pride in himself once upon a time, only to be beaten down by those who held much more pride; he’d been kicked to the ground and left to burn, all because he’d been too prideful and thought that nothing could touch him from his little cloud of happiness. Only, he had, and he’d been sent crashing to the ground, losing everything from his pride to his happiness all in one go, all because he and the man he’d loved hadn’t been careful enough, and they’d been caught and thrown into the spotlight.

Edgar sighed and rolled over, facing the wall as he tried to figure out just what it was that he needed to do. It would be so much simpler if someone would just come and straight up tell him what path awaited him, but no one would because that just wasn’t how life worked—well his life at least. There probably was some lucky soul out there in the world that had their life put together and knew exactly what to do whenever something bad happened, but Edgar was not that soul. He was the soul that fell apart the moment bad things happened, unable to find a solution in an ocean that threatened to drown him. But maybe… that was okay.

Maybe he didn’t have to know what to do next.

Maybe he could just take it one day at a time, and see what that brought him.

“Mr Poe, it is time to get up.” Edgar groaned, reluctantly opening his eyes as Fukuzawa’s voice invaded his dreams and dragged him out of sleep. He was greeted by the sun, the morning rays blinding him momentarily, and he immediately squeezed his eyes shut again, rolling away to avoid getting up. It was too early for him to be awake; sunrise was a time that he not seen for years, because he went out of his way to avoid it, much preferring the comfort of the dark. Night time was a much simpler time; when he’d been actively writing, he’d often stared out his window at the moon as it rose into the sky, watching and using it for inspiration in his novels.

If he’d tried to do that with the sun, he would’ve gone blind a long time ago.

Fukuzawa’s voice echoed again, and this time, it was accompanied by a hand tugging his blankets away. “Mr Poe, I will drag you out of this bed.”

Edgar looked over his shoulder, annoyed, and huffed. “Why?”

Fukuzawa raised an eyebrow. “You have been in that bed for a week. Now that you are awake, it is time to bathe.”

“A week?” Edgar’s eyes went wide, struggling to comprehend that he’d actually managed to knock himself out for an entire week. Just how much did I drink? Just as the thought crossed his mind, another one quickly followed, this one having him eye Fukuzawa warily. “What do you mean by bathe?”

“You need to clean yourself. Or do the nobility not take care of their own personal hygiene?” Fukuzawa tugged on the blankets more, and this time, Edgar allowed them to be pulled away from him. Mostly because he was trying to juggle what Fukuzawa was telling him, but also because he was still somewhat shocked about how long he’d been at the clinic. No wonder Mori had sounded so exhausted the last time they spoke.

Edgar swung his legs over the edge of the bed. As much as he didn’t want to get up, he could already tell from the no-nonsense look on Fukuzawa’s face that he wasn’t about to take no for an answer. Hell, the older man probably took joy in forcing the patients of the clinic up and out of bed the moment the sun was up. It was as Fukuzawa reached down to wrap his hands around Edgar’s forearms, that Edgar answered his question. “Of course we do! It’s just that… well… people of your class—”

“People of our class bathe as well, Mr Poe. If we didn’t there would be a lot more sickness. We may not have the fancy bathtubs that you are familiar with, but we still have our ways.” Fukuzawa only sounded mildly annoyed as he dragged Edgar upright and guided him over to the chair, and Edgar was surprised. If he’d been in Fukuzawa’s shoes, he probably would’ve been annoyed at such a stupid question.

But he wasn’t going to question it, not when Fukuzawa was the only reason he was even standing, his legs so shaky from disuse that he could barely put one foot in front of the other. But he managed, and collapsed into the chair. “I didn’t know.” He murmured, watching Fukuzawa as the other man stripped the bed of its bedding. “So, um… how do you bathe?”

Fukuzawa paused in his actions and looked over at Edgar. He could’ve sworn he saw the man’s lips twitch in amusement. “With a washcloth and basin.”

Edgar threw his head into his hands and groaned. Of course. “Excuse my ignorance.”

“It is excused.” Fukuzawa folded the dirty bedding and placed it by the door, no doubt to be taken and washed later, before he placed new bedding on the bed. “Mori and I have dealt with nobility before, so we are aware there are things you might not understand.”

Ignoring the jab towards him, Edgar leaned forward in the chair, a little curious at the information Fukuzawa was letting slip; he had started to think that Fukuzawa was incapable of talking about himself. “You have?”

“Mori is good at what he does.” Fukuzawa continued to make the bed without looking up. “Not all nobles are as fixated on race as some are, and the ones that don’t, pay well.”

Edgar bristled. He refused to be lumped in with the nobles that wouldn’t interact with other people purely because they weren’t from England. He wasn’t like the nobles that would beat down, mock, and ridicule people just because they had a different skin colour to himself. No, he’d always done his best to treat other people with respect… well, in theory at least. Edgar wasn’t so sure that he’d actually succeeded in showing it. But Fukuzawa didn’t know that, nor did he need to; either way, his comment was more than enough to get Edgar’s blood boiling. He wasn’t a cruel person. “I don’t fixate on race.”

Now Fukuzawa did look up, expression neutral, if a little surprised. ��I didn’t say you did.” And before Edgar could even open his mouth, Fukuzawa continued, turning around to sit on the edge of the bed. “You know, you are a very hostile person.”

“What do you mean?” Edgar asked, suddenly unsure of himself.

“My comment was not directed at you, yet you took it as if I did.”

“Oh…” Edgar hunched in on himself, feeling like an absolute fool of a person. Of course Fukuzawa hadn’t been talking about him specifically, he’d just been talking about the nobility in general. Yet another case of him screwing everything up, all because he hadn’t stopped to actually listen and take note of what Fukuzawa was saying. The worst thing was that Fukuzawa was right, he was being hostile for no reason. Well… not no reason, because becoming hostile was a familiar path to him, one he’d taken many times, and the reason why he had no one left in his life in the first place.

A sigh came from the man in front of him, and Edgar flinched away as Fukuzawa stood, squeezing his eyes shut and waiting for the man to get angry and throw him out. Only, nothing happened, except a hand coming to rest on his shoulder, squeezing it. Edgar cracked open one eye to see Fukuzawa standing above him. That same hand began to pull, unrelenting until he was standing once again. “Come on. I have some errands to run in a little bit.”

“And?” Edgar blinked, bewildered at the sudden change in topic.

“You are going to accompany me, of course. After your bath, that is.”

Edgar had had a lot of embarrassing moments in his life. That was simply the case when one used alcohol has an escape mechanism, but nothing was more embarrassing than being bathed by someone else. Really, there wasn’t. Edgar had thrown up over himself and other people, he’d passed out in the streets, and he’d failed twice at suicide, but not once, had he been seen naked by another human being that wasn’t his family. And sure, Fukuzawa was kind about it, and not judgemental at all, and had probably even kept him clean when he’d been unconscious, but it was still embarrassing to have the other man hold onto his arms to keep him upright—because his legs were still shaking like a newborn foal—whilst he stripped himself of his clothing and then climbed into the tub that was as different from the one in his own home as could be. And then he bathed, scrubbing at his skin with a cloth and the tiniest bit of soap until Fukuzawa deemed him clean enough and helped him out of the tub, offering him clothes that certainly weren’t Edgar’s own, but were his size. He couldn’t help but give Fukuzawa a look.

“There’s a family that makes clothes, and they donate some to us for patients to wear when their own clothes are too tattered or dirty to wear.” Fukuzawa explained as he helped Edgar into the pants. “They caught wind that you were a patient here, and were very quick to make something for you to wear.”

“Wait, what? They—they knew who I was?” Edgar froze, fingers halfway through threading a button, stress growing within him at the idea of being recognized by anyone, especially in his current state.

“There are not many in this part of London that wouldn’t recognize you, Mr Poe. But before you can work yourself into a panic, they do not recognize you as Lord Allan the noble, but as Mr Poe, the writer.”

The writer? What do you mean by that? Edgar thought, but when he went to ask Fukuzawa what he’d meant by that, the man was already moving, taking Edgar’s dirty clothes into his arms, and leaving the room with them, and leaving Edgar alone. It only took him a second to realize that he probably needed to follow Fukuzawa, and somehow managed to get his legs working well enough to stumble after the man. And sure enough, Fukuzawa wasn’t far, having stopped to wait for him. Edgar chose that moment to open his mouth and ask Fukuzawa what he’d meant, but he was interrupted before he even formed the first word.

“You will help me deliver medicine to the families that need it today.” Fukuzawa said, entering a room to dump the clothes, before he returned and then ventured into the room on the opposite side of the hallway, once again, returning a moment later, but this time with a satchel. “It will do you some good to get out of the clinic and get some fresh air, and then we will get you something to eat.”

“Um… do I get a choice here?” Edgar asked. The last thing he wanted to do was go outside and walk around, where he would no doubt be harassed by people whose curiosity was greater than their tact. Because these were people that would recognize Fukuzawa and not him, and honestly, Edgar just didn’t want to deal with it.

Fukuzawa paused and looked at him. “You are a patient here, Mr Poe, and this is part of your treatment, so no, you do not get a choice. Of course, you can refuse, but then I will be forced to tell Dr Mori that you have, and you will find he will not be as kind as I am.”

Edgar sighed, and resigned himself to his fate. “Fine then. I’ll go with you.”

“A wise decision, Mr Poe.”

It was an interesting experience, to wander the streets of London with another human being, even if that human being was a man from a foreign land that stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the rest of the population because he refused to wear anything but traditional clothing. At least, Edgar thought it traditional, because it certainly wasn’t British, even though the British did sometimes wear some outrageous things.

He'd seen his fair share of over the top dresses at all the balls he’d been invited to over the years.

Of course, Edgar had no intention of asking Fukuzawa what his clothes were called because not only was it not his business, the man still scared him. But he was curious; very curious.

But what surprised Edgar the most, was how nice people were; it didn’t matter if they were children or elders, as he and Fukuzawa walked down the streets, people called out greetings, and stopped to talk to them about mindless things. Edgar always stayed quiet and out the way when they were stopped, more than content to let Fukuzawa do the talking. He was just grateful that his hair covered most of his face, because the last thing he wanted was to be recognized by someone—he didn’t think he’d be able to answer whatever questions they would have for him. He could barely answer Mori’s as is.

It was nice though, to see how the common people interacted with each other, because it was so different to the way that the nobility interacted. The world that Edgar lived in was filled with politics and false friendships, where the slightest misstep resulted in being backstabbed by those you thought you could trust. Sure, there were some genuine friendships amongst those that were higher in class than Edgar and his family could ever hope to be, but for everyone else, it was a fight to gain favour, to win the right to call yourself part of the inner circle. Edgar had set foot in the inner circle once, and once only, back when he’d actively been publishing his stories.

But after… that, he’d fallen out of that circle and been forbidden from ever setting foot into it again.

So it was… interesting to say the least, to see the difference in the way that commoners interacted with each other. From what he’d heard, the lower class was supposed to be filled with turmoil, people fighting amongst each other for scraps of food and clothing, leaving the sick and injured to fend for themselves, things like that. But there was none of that here. Edgar didn’t know if it was just this particular area of London, or if it was the same all over, but the people here had a sort of camaraderie that he could only have ever dreamed of having.

Children ran about the streets, laughing and playing in tattered clothes, but with smiles on their faces. Shopkeepers, rather than chase away the people that loitered outside their stores, chatted with them instead; Edgar watched as a café owner excused himself and returned with a box of sweets, handing them over to an elderly gentleman who then approached the group of children hiding around the corner and began to hand them out. He watched as the tailor took one look at woman with a torn shirt that was barely hanging on, and offered to fix it for her—for free.

It was all so kind, and Edgar honestly couldn’t believe that such a world existed.

“What are you thinking about, Mr Poe?” Fukuzawa asked him as they left the home of a family they’d just delivered medicine to, carefully pulling the bag of food he’d been gifted over his shoulder, taking great care to not break anything.

Edgar stared at the bag for a moment as he thought about what answer to give. “The people in this area are… really nice. I’ve never… seen such kindness before.”

Fukuzawa gave him a long look as the two of them walked down the street, before he sighed and turned to the road ahead of them, slowing his pace from a brisk walk to a gentle stroll. “Mr Poe, can I ask you a question?”

“What kind of question?” Edgar felt himself tense, immediately cautious about what kind of question he would be asked. It was impossible for him to decipher just what exactly Fukuzawa was thinking about, and this time was no different. In fact, it was even more impossible because the man was just in front of him, his face hidden and therefore expression unreadable. Yet… Fukuzawa’s questions had never been cruel or insulting, only genuine, and that was reason enough for Edgar to listen, even if he still feared what was about to come.

“Why don’t you believe in kindness?”

“Excuse me? I do believe in kindness…” Even as he said the words, they felt fake, like he was trying to talk through a mouthful of mud. It left a horrible aftertaste in his mouth.

Fukuzawa hummed and glanced over his shoulder towards Edgar. “Then let me rephrase; why do you not believe that you deserve kindness?”

Edgar ducked his head and came to a stop. “Because I don’t. Who would want to be kind to someone like me? I’m just… not someone who people love or care enough about to befriend. I’m just someone who came on a boat, that used to write stories for people until I exchanged my quill for the bottle and threw it all away. So, yeah, I don’t deserve kindness because I have done nothing to warrant any kindness. And really, that’s okay, it’s something I’ve come to accept.”

There was another hum, before a hand came to rest between his shoulders, causing Edgar to flinch from the suddenness of the touch. He raised his head and stared at Fukuzawa, eyes wide, and arms curled towards himself. Fukuzawa’s hand continued to remain on his back, but his expression was kind as he guided Edgar into moving forward again, and it was that kind look that loosened Edgar’s lips.

“It’s not fair.” Edgar began, allowing his arms to curl around himself as he walked. “It’s not fair that I was plucked off streets of America and brought here, just to be forced to conform to his country’s societal standards that I never understood. I did my best, I followed what Frances and John did, and did as they told me, dressed as they told me, and played nice as they told me, but even then, I was still the little American boy trying to play the lord he never would be. So I just ignored them and wrote stories—good stories—that the other noble children liked, and I kept writing, and writing, until a company offered to publish my books and things got good.”

He paused just long enough to take a breath before he pushed on. “People started to take an interest in me and talk to me; asking me about my books and my life, and seeing me for me instead of the adopted child of the Allan’s family. It’s why I used Poe when I published my stories actually, because… I could separate myself from Lord Allan, the noble, and Edgar Poe, the writer.”

Silence followed his words, and Edgar began to stress that maybe he shouldn’t have just blurted all of that out to someone who barely even knew him, yet Fukuzawa was still walking, still staring straight ahead, but also clearly listening to what Edgar had been saying. Still, he kept quiet, his face flushed and palms sweaty from where they still clutched at his shirt.

Fukuzawa stopped and turned to face him, wearing a look of interest. “So what went wrong?”

And that question, that simple question, was all it took for Edgar to continue, his eyes pricking slightly as he spoke, this time in a much calmer tone than before. “I fell in love with the wrong person, that’s what went wrong.” His fists tightened their grip as he strode past Fukuzawa and kept walking. “A group of American’s came over for business ventures just after I turned eighteen, and my family worked with them. It was an experience, to get to know people from the country I’d been born into, and they were nice. One of them especially. He was… kind.”

“You fell in love with him.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement, and a truthful one at that.

Edgar nodded. “I did. I fell for him, and he fell for me, and we pursued each other for two years. It was a secret, of course, no one knew what we did or how we felt. He had his own house in the city that I would visit him at, and we would just spend time together, him working, and me writing.” He couldn’t help but smile as he remembered the gentle way that his old love had handled him, treating him like he was buried treasure pulled from the ocean, always telling him how talented and gentle he was, kissing him and running his beautiful hands across Edgar’s bare skin. “It was—It was nice.”

And then he sighed, and the smile fell from his face. “But we were foolish. We got too complacent and someone caught us in bed together and told everyone. Soon enough, instead of being praised for my literary pieces, I was seen as nothing but a sodomite, a molly, someone who just whored himself out to men because he found them attractive instead of the countless women that tried to get my attention. And—And—” Edgar broke off as his eyes began to sting and swallowed, desperately trying to hold back the tears that threatened to fall and make him look even more pathetic than he already was.

He heard footsteps behind him, and an arm wrap around his shoulders, providing a comforting, warm weight. “And what, Mr Poe?”

“And instead of standing beside me, the man I loved said that I made a move on him, and that he never loved me in that way, that he was just playing along because he thought I was lonely.” Edgar sobbed, ignoring the tears that ran down his cheeks. “After two years of loving each other, he just threw it all away to protect his precious reputation and let me take the fall for it. Alone! And it hurt. It hurt so much. I tried to talk to him the day after the papers ran the first article, but he wouldn’t hear me out, and the person that caught us continued to spread rumours and lies about me, and soon enough, everyone that had once liked or tolerated my existence wanted nothing to do with me. I was nothing but a piece of shit that needed to be shovelled out of the street.

It was the worst time of my life… everything I’d done prior, and everything I tried to do after… reduced to nothing and forgotten about just because I loved a man. The nobility refused to acknowledge me, and soon enough I was thrown from every social circle I’d once had the luxury of being in. And John and Frances, they tried, at first, they really did try to help, but they didn’t understand the pain I was going through and I knew that they thought me a freak of nature as well. I just felt so lonely after it all, that I dressed myself in peasant clothes and found a bar that didn’t recognize me. And drank myself into oblivion for the first time.” Edgar chuckled to himself and wiped away the tears that continued to fall. “And well, the papers pretty much covered everything after that.”

He waited for Fukuzawa to say something, hoped he would say something after allowing Edgar to go off like that, but the man stood there, silent with his arm around Edgar’s shoulders, and he began to grow worried that he’d upset the man or somehow angered him—which was irrational because Fukuzawa didn’t look angry, but also he couldn’t be too sure since he didn’t really know the man at all. The hand on his shoulder tightened and Edgar flinched, only to find himself pulled into an embrace, something that he hadn’t experienced in well over two years, and he could feel the tears returning.

“You are right that it wasn’t fair.” Fukuzawa’s voice was gentle as he held Edgar tightly in his arms. “It wasn’t fair that you were cast aside just because you found happiness in someone who didn’t fit the norm, and it certainly wasn’t fair that the man you loved and trusted, abandoned you to deal with it on your own. It should never have happened, and although I did not know you two years ago, I apologize for the way that no one stopped to lend you a helping hand when you needed it the most.” There was a brief pause, no longer than a few seconds. “But know that now you have that helping hand, and sure, it’s probably not from the people you expected it to come from, but it’s there, waiting for you to reach out and take it. Only if you are ready to take it, of course.”

And just like that, the dam holding back Edgar’s tears cracked and crumbled away, and he began to sob in earnest, hands reaching up to clutch at the front of Fukuzawa’s shirt as he cried into the man’s chest. His entire body shook with the force of his tears as an entire two years’ worth of pent up emotions broke free and made themselves known. Edgar couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried like this; surely it had to have been that day when, in the pouring rain, he’d banged on his former love’s door, begging for him to just come out or let him in so that they could talk.

His knocks and pleas hadn’t been answered, but he knew they’d been heard when a curtain had shifted, falling back into place in the way it only could’ve done so if someone had been watching him through it to begin with. And Edgar’s heart had broken entirely at the realization that he’d been completely and utterly abandoned by the one person he’d thought would stand by him through all the slander and hatred. But it seemed that he’d placed his heart and trust in the wrong person; obviously Edgar was just as unlovable as he’d always been.

So yeah, that night was probably the last time he’d cried so much.

And still, Fukuzawa continued to hold him, doing nothing more but being the pillar that kept him upright. He didn’t move to stroke Edgar’s back like his family might have once done for him, but his arms remained wrapped around him, strong and firm, more than enough to remind Edgar that he wasn’t alone. I should let go. Edgar told himself. I’m making a scene and a mess. He continued to think, but made no attempt to actually do something about it. Why is he doing this? I don’t deserve this—this kindness. He just continued to stand there and cling, desperately holding onto that kindness he’d been shown before it could be taken from him again.

He knew it would, because his life wasn’t meant to be a happy one, it wasn’t meant to be filled with kindness and people that cared.

Happiness wasn’t made for people like him.

Edgar didn’t know how long it was until he stopped crying, but by the time he was aware that he’d stopped, his eyes burned and his jaw hurt, and there was that exhaustion clinging to him that made him want nothing more than to curl up on the ground and sleep. For a while—he didn’t know how long—he stood there until slowly, his hands uncurled and dropped back to his side and he stepped back, Fukuzawa’s arms falling away. He raised his hands to wipe at his eyes.

“Do you feel better now?” Fukuzawa asked.

Edgar nodded. He did feel better after crying, as embarrassing as it was. “I’m sorry.”

“You have no reason to apologize.” Fukuzawa said, reaching out to grab Edgar’s sleeve and tug him into moving. “Come along.”

That was when Edgar realized that they were no longer on the street they’d been walking on before Edgar had broken down, but hidden in a little side alley where it was just the two of them. At some point, Fukuzawa must’ve dragged him somewhere quiet—private, for Edgar to break down where no one could see him. And now he was just following Fukuzawa like a lost puppy, trailing behind the man as he led him to wherever it was that they were going. No words were spoken as they walked, not that any needed to be, for Edgar was still embarrassed about the way that he’d dumped his entire life story upon Fukuzawa, and Fukuzawa wasn’t the kind of person that talked much at all.

And honestly, just this once, Edgar preferred the silence.

He didn’t know what he would say anyway.

Edgar found himself back at the clinic, although he didn’t really take much notice as Fukuzawa guided him back to the room he was currently staying in; Edgar didn’t hesitate to just collapse onto the bed and let his exhaustion sweep him into the peaceful ocean that was sleep. As he drifted off, he felt hands—no doubt Fukuzawa’s—pulling his shoes off and removing his coat, and the last thing he felt as he went to sleep, was the feeling of a blanket being pulled over him. And then that was it, Edgar was lost to the realm of dreams, and for once, they were pleasant dreams.

Of course, that was where his luck ran out, because when Edgar woke up the next morning, it was to Mori sitting in the chair beside him, and Edgar regretted waking up immediately.

“I brought breakfast.” Mori gestured towards the tray that was sitting on Edgar’s bedside table; some sort of porridge looking meal that wasn’t anything like what Edgar had eaten before. If porridge had a class system then this would no doubt be ‘poor porridge.’

But with one look from Mori, Edgar picked up the bowl and began to eat. “Thank you. But… uh, why are you bringing me breakfast?”

“Because Ranpo decided to exert himself yesterday and woke up unable to breath properly this morning. Fukuzawa’s watching over him, so I volunteered to bring you breakfast instead.” Mori shrugged, as if it Ranpo struggling to breath wasn’t a serious problem, but rather, an everyday issue. Actually… it probably is now that I think about it. Edgar thought, because he remembered the way that Fukuzawa and Mori had been worried about Ranpo that day Edgar had helped him, but not panicked.

“Oh.”

“Besides, it also gives me the chance to talk to you.” Mori went on to say, leaning back in his chair to study Edgar carefully. “Fukuzawa told me a little bit of what happened yesterday. Not a lot, because god forbid that man ever tells me the whole story of anything without me having to pull his teeth, but enough to give me some idea as to how you’re feeling.”

“Oh.”

Mori sighed. “Perhaps you could say something other than oh?”

What is it that you want me to say? Edgar wanted to cry out, but refrained from doing so in favour of eating more of his lumpy porridge, which was as tasteless as it looked, but again, he wasn’t going to say anything. And he didn’t really know what else to say either, so he just kept quiet and avoided making eye contact. Because unlike Fukuzawa, who was more than content to let Edgar speak when he was ready—within reason of course—Mori was not as lenient, digging and pushing until he was given the answer, regardless of how the person he was questioning felt.

He knew it was just Mori doing his job, and if Edgar was being honest, the man was a great doctor and the questions he asked, while difficult, undoubtedly did more to help. It was just that Edgar was far too broken of a human being to handle those questions easily; it was much easier to ignore or redirect Mori’s attention elsewhere—well, attempt to at least, for it hadn’t really worked in the short time he’d come to know the man.

“Mr Poe.” Mori said after he received no answer to his question. “Allow me to be blunt for a moment?”

Edgar nodded, already preparing himself for the worst question.

“If I were to discharge you, would you attempt to kill yourself again, or not?”

“I…” Edgar hesitated, letting the spoon fall back into the bowl with a small clang. Would he try to die again if he was left alone? The answer was eventually, because while he felt okay now, he knew it wouldn’t take long for him to fall apart and want to die again. The only reason he even felt okay now was because he’d been unconscious for a week, and aside from that first day where he’d had all the time to think about how he’d ended up in the clinic, he hadn’t had much time to think about his situation at all. He hadn’t been left alone long enough to be given the chance to acknowledge the clawing sensation inside of him that was his need for a drink, nor was he given a chance to really, truly, listen to that nagging voice in his head, the one that told him that dying was what was best.

But now that Mori had asked him if he still wished to die, Edgar was more than aware of these feelings that lay inside him, but rather than accept them like he usually did… a small part of him wanted to reject those feelings. Edgar let out a sigh and worried his lip between his teeth as he slowly put the words together. “I… don’t know. Probably, I guess, if I had to be truthful. I’m alone in a big empty house with no one around… so there’s not much for me to do other than die.”

“If that’s the case, then I won’t discharge you.” Mori said matter-of-factly, standing from the chair and crossing his arms. “However, I do need this bed—”

“Then I will leave.” Edgar said, fingers tightening around the bowl. “I have no desire to take up a bed when—ow!” He flinched as Mori whacked him over the head with a… newspaper? Where did that even come from?

Mori’s look was one of annoyance. “If you would let me finish, Mr Poe, I am not throwing you out. The opposite, in fact.”

Edgar raised his head, confused. If he wasn’t being thrown out, then what was going to happen to him?

“Until I deem you fit, you will stay with us and help out.”

On second thought, being thrown out doesn’t sound half-bad.

“Such an interesting look on your face.” Mori hid a smile behind his hand, chuckling at the look of displeasure on Edgar’s face.

Who could blame him really? Ever since he had decided to die, Mori and his strange little put-together family had interfered at every step. First, it had been Ranpo, dragging him away from the bridge with quips and insults that no lower class person would’ve dared to say to a Lord—not that Edgar had been a Lord at that point to begin with. And then it had been Mori and Fukuzawa, butting into business that wasn’t their own in a way that Edgar couldn’t help but give in to; there was just something about the two older men, something that he couldn’t quite understand, a kind of gentleness that said they understood the pain he was going through, but didn’t quite know how to help.

And Edgar just didn’t know how to handle it.

“I do not wish to inconvenience you and your family.” Edgar said.

“I would not have suggested it if it was an inconvenience.” Mori countered. “It will not be as simple as you think, for as you have seen, we do not have much space. You will help out, and you will work, and in exchange we will feed you and provide a place to sleep.”

“Why though? Why go to so much effort for me?”

“Because, Mr Poe.” Mori crouched before the bed and lifted his head to meet Edgar’s eyes. “We once lost someone to the very illness that plagues you, and call it selfish of us, but if we can prevent someone else from following that path, we will do everything we can to help.”

The words hit Edgar hard, and he wanted to turn away from the raw emotion in Mori’s voice, the kind that came from losing someone you cared about deeply, but he couldn’t. All he could do was stare back at Mori as the silence grew between the two of them. He tried to think of something to say, anything to say, but there was nothing, like all the words had been stolen from within him. He could feel his mouth open and close over and over as he tried to think.

But there was nothing.

He could offer condolences, he could offer apologies, but what good would they do in the end? The loss had already happened, long before Edgar had ever known of the man in front of him. Besides, what good would words do from him of all people? Edgar realized in that moment, just how painful of a reminder he must’ve been to Mori; how painful it must’ve been for the doctor to offer his help, only for Edgar to reject it again and again, to watch him try to die again and again.

He didn’t know how Mori had the strength.

He didn’t know how any of them had the strength.

And it was that lack of knowledge that gave him strength.

He reached out and rested his hand on top of Mori’s head, smiling when the doctor’s eyes went wide. “Okay. I’ll—I’ll give it a try. Just… don’t expect much from me…”

Mori chuckled, and climbed to his feet. “Don’t worry, we have no expectations.”

Somehow, despite the insulting nature of Mori’s words, all they did was make Edgar feel warm inside.

It was nice, to have no expectations placed upon him for once in his life.

#bsd #bungo stray dogs #bsd fanfic #angst #edgar allan poe #edogawa ranpo #fukuzawa yukichi #mori ougai #ranpoe #hurt/comfort #writing #fanfic

[bbokkie]

Skipping Class With Highschool! Valorant Boys!!

Scenario: Skipping class with Highschool! Valorant boys on a Friday!!

Characters included: Yoru, Pheonix

(No Chamber or Sova here fellas, I think they’ll kill you before they even THINK of skipping class 🙄)

(I just wanted to say I got this idea in the shower whilst butt-ass naked. Shower thoughts really help tbh. I also originally got this idea because I was kind of “stressing” because I have a school orientation tomorrow sooo.. I might as well post something before I go to school tomorrow!!)

Disclaimer: This is more of a two fanfics in one other than it being in a headcannon situation soo.. yeahhh..

Yoru - Ryo Kiritani 

- The thought of skipping class never crossed his mind, he just forced himself to sit in class with a bored look for 30 minutes straight and mocking everything the teacher says.

- His phone buzzed in his pocket, confused and curious he looked down and took out his phone.

Text message from: Stupid Doo Doo Face 😠

And then he got even more curious. He pressed on the notification twice, his phone opening and leading him to his texting app.

Wanna skip class?

The text read. His eyebrows furrowed, his expression being: “Are you serious right now?”

He placed his thumb on the keyboard before typing a response.

No, aren’t you in class?

He sent.

Soon before sending it, a message quickly popped up as a reply.

No, dumbass. I’m in the toilet, now get out of class!!

He rolled his eyes, it’s not like he wanted to be here anyway. He slid his phone back in his pockets before looking at the teacher again and raising his hand. “Yes, Mr. Kiritani?” the teacher said, looking at him. “Can I go to the bathroom?” he plainly said. “Sure, be quick though.” the teacher smiled. He got up from his seat, exiting the classroom.

He took his phone out of his pocket once more, walking down the hallway.

I’m coming to the bathrooms

He typed before hitting sent.

Yay!!

Before even stepping into the bathroom, a familiar figure popped out of the bathroom. “Ryo!” the girl shouted. “Shut up!” The male whisper-shouted. “We’re gonna get caught if you do that shit.” he walked up to her, putting his phone back into the depths of his pocket.

“So, why’re we skipping class?” the male asked as the both of you walked down a flight of stairs. “It’s Friday, let’s just have an early leave or something.” you shrugged. “So, you have no plan whatsoever.” the male said. “Yeah. I just felt like it.” the girl smiled at him. “If you’re feeling like it, don’t drag me into it.” he rolled his eyes. “You did come with me though, soo.. that’s a you problem.” you fired back. “Whatever, where are we even going?” he said, stepping off the last step.

“You got any money on you?” you turned to him. “Yeah. But I’m not gonna buy you anything, if that’s what you’re thinking.” he said. “Ugh, I’m kinda hungry right now..” you mumbled. “Let’s go to an arcade!” you looked at him, and if you looked closely his eyes were practically glistening at the word “arcade”

“Sure. I mean, we’re already out class.” he shrugged, deep inside he felt like jumping up and down like a little girl who got candy. 

(Guys, Yoru loves arcades, I’m Riot by the way!!!)

The two of you looked at the gate ahead, the gate which held your freedom to go to the arcade. 

“What now, Sherlock.” he said sarcastically. “We climb it, of course.” you rolled your eyes. “All that to go to an arcade..?” he whispered. “Yeah, now help me up!” you demanded, hanging onto the gate like some cat. He didn’t say anything but watch you struggle with a questionable look on his face. He sighed, touching the gate before realizing it was open the entire time. “It was open the entire time, Sherlock.” he said, hiding a giggle underneath his breath. “WHAT.” you huffed, you were halfway on the gate too. “UGH, HELP ME DOWN!” you called out to your boyfriend. “Ew, hell no.” he snickered, opening the gate and getting out. “Ryo! Don’t leave me here to die, my skirt’s going to get ruined!!” you whined.

“Okay then, jump.” he plainly said, his arms out for you to be caught in. “Excuse me?” you looked down at him. “I won’t leave you here to die.” he chuckled. “No! You’re gonna make me jump and then move out of the way!!” you shook your head, holding onto the gate for dear life. “Well, guess you’re gonna die.” he shrugged, going out the gate. “WAIT..” you called out. “FINE, GET BACK HERE.” you shouted, he faced back at you. His arms opened once again. “You better catch me, goddamnit..” you whispered before impulsively jumping out of the gate and into his arms like a cat jumping from one box to another.

Your eyes were shut tight, you thought you were going to feel a harsh impact onto your body, but instead arms were wrapped around you. “Did you really not trust me?” he joked, putting you down.

“That was kinda hot, not gonna lie.”

“What.”

Phoenix - Jamie Adayemi

- I know this man skipped class a few times, and he’d do it again if he’s bored of the class.

- During lunch time you asked your boyfriend if you wanted to skip class with him, and his eyes lit up. In the back of his mind, he always wanted to be asked this by you. He always dreamed of skipping class with someone he truly and dearly loved, and today was the time!

- “Finally! Of course!” he jumped out of his seat out of pure joy.

- “Okay! Maybe.. last class?” you suggested. He nodded his head furiously. “Hmm.. around 3:30 then?” you looked at him, which he responded with furious nodding. You giggled before nodding your head too.

- The male kept looking at the classroom clock every 30 seconds or so, his leg jolting up and down by the millisecond. 

He looked at the clock once more, finally hitting 3:30 exactly. He grinned to himself, a sense of relief and excitement flowing through his veins. 

“Yo teach! Gotta go piss!” he raised his hand. “Uh.. sure.” the teacher said, quite unsure of what to even respond to that. The male jumped out of his seat, exiting the classroom in ungodly speed.

He raced down the hallway, making it in the bathroom area in.. again ungodly speed. Before he could halt himself, he accidentally bumps into someone on the way in. “Jamie?” you looked up at him. “Hey, babe!” he smiled widely. “You’re here early.” you giggled. “Sorry, I guess I was just excited!” he huffed, finally catching his breath.

“So, where to?”

The two of you made it to the gate, staring at it. “Mm.” you groaned. “Wanna climb it?” the male looked at you. “I don’t think I have the stability for that.” you whispered to him.

You jiggled the gate, the gate making a noise. “Oh, it’s open.” you said, almost dumb-founded. Phoenix laughed. You opened the gate but it echoed loudly, creaking with such volume a security guard popped out of ass-cheek nowhere.

“Hey! Where are you two going!?” the voice boomed. “OH, SHIT.” Phoenix yelled, he quickly took your hand and ran out the gate.

“HEY!!” the same voice shouted.

Phoenix cocked his head back before laughing loudly. You tried your best to keep up with his legs, you kind of had to since if you were caught lacking you’d have a face full of dirt. You chuckled which then bursted into laughter as Phoenix just ran.

He finally stopped when you two were far enough from the school, which left you both in a panting mess. He looked at you as he panted harshly before giggling again. “Stop giggling..” you smiled at him, trying your best to catch your breath.

“My mom’s gonna kick my ass later.”

“Lmao, same.”

(the end!! anyways, wish me luck for school tomorrow! I’ll gladly do a part two of Yoru’s arcade date or something if you guys like it! keep safe and sanitize your desks 🥰💋)

(also don’t worry about me not posting or some goofy shit like that, i like the clout sooo..)

(GODDAMNIT I FORGOT DONT FORGET TO LIKE AND SUBSCRIBE FOR MORE AWESOME BANGERS LIKETHIS!!!!)

#valorant x reader #yoru x reader #phoenix x reader

[comicgoblinwrites]

I need to come clean about how much Baldur’s gate 3 has been impacting me. It’s… it’s bad y’all. Other than finishing the last couple chapters of TFBS I have not written, and I’ve barely thought, about any stories aside from all the bg3 headcanons and fic ideas I have.

I have brainworms. I haven’t been this inspired and this consumed in months. Maybe years. It’s… refreshing.

I’m not upset about it—I think I’ve been a little lacking in the media department and have been struggling to find something that hooks my interest (tlt aside). And then I started playing bg3 and I… I can’t stop the thoughts. So many ideas.

Listen. Listen. I’ve never written fanfic. I’ve barely done fan art. Now I’ve got like, half a journal full of writing and comic ideas and and—agh.

TBH I think it’s probably bcs I read for my job, so when I get off work more reading is just laborious. But I still want stories, so games and shows have been where it’s at for me. And I loooove that I get to participate in video games, it’s so much more satisfying for the adhd brain.

Anyway. I’ll be sharing some of those soon. Apologies to the folks who followed me for just the original fiction, idk what to tell you my blog is like my study: a complete goblin hoard of all my favorite things, whether or not they’re my IPs)

Im still working on my other stories, but they’re kind of at a place where they need to rest for a bit before I kick back in with them.

I’ve got a lot of art to share though! Stay tuned…

#writing #writeblr #writer #fantasy #science fantasy #bg3 #baldurs gate 3

[eliotquillon]

Hello writer ask gamer, 1, 5, 9, 24, 27

1. What font do you write in? Do you actually care or is that just the default setting?

okay listen i know this is psychopath behaviour but. i use arial 11 and yes that is the google docs default setting. it’s not for lack of trying to be a times new roman girlie!!! but i just seem to write more in default

5. Do you have any writing superstitions? What are they and why are they 100% true?

“if i update a draft that’s more than 6 months old without saving a copy of the original version i will hate whatever i add to it”. this is literally the opposite of true because if anything it stops me from going back and continuing old drafts after i’d had a brainwave but my BRAIN WANTS WHAT IT WANTS

9. Do you believe in ghosts? This isn’t about writing I just wanna know

i don’t!

24. How much prep work do you put into your stories? What does that look like for you? Do you enjoy this part or do you just want to get on with it?

i am very much a pantser and not a planner in that i will have an idea of how i want to start and how i want to end + generally have key moments i want to include in between, but how i get there is usually something i let happen naturally when writing bc that’s the part i enjoy. so no detailed outlines for me lol and honestly i find even basic outlines to be really tedious. very much something i’ve had to force myself to do. however i will do a lot of research if i’m doing specific details - i think for my bucharest fic i spent like 4 hours googling 1970s kgb pistols. i tend to really enjoy a lot of the research sections tbh, altho my current shelby wip has me TEARING MY HAIR OUT over californian district elections lol.

27. Who is the most stressful character you’ve ever written? Why?

most stressful original character: kiara stonehurst!! she made tear my hair out because her whole deal was that even though she was nasty and cruel and unfiltered about being brutally honest, she 100% believed she was correct in being that way and looked down on everyone else for not doing the same. a very black and white moral view of the world i guess. she was very very fucked up and borderline delusional and it was hard making her sympathetic without making her likeable? i don’t think i ever managed it in the end. i still love her to pieces though

most stressful character in fanfic: NERO. every fic i write with him is a fucking trial and tribulation wherein i am on the struggle bus. i can’t get into his head at all. sorry max!

#ask games

[iztopher]

If you're still taking those fanfic asks: ❤️ 👻(if not a wild one, then one you're fond of/have been thinking about lately) 🎁 🦈(or published fic that was hardest to write)!!

YESS thank u!!!

❤️ What is your favorite line that you’ve written in a fic?

“I can’t do anything with this fabric in the way,” she says, and finds her voice is uncharacteristically sheepish. She’s at an impasse; she certainly knows better than to ask him if she can take off his breastplate. She’s not even sure she wants to– there’s something about her mental image of Galahad that belongs in shining metal, like if she stripped off too much armor he would disappear right along with it.

yes this fic is nearly four years old. yes it remains my favorite thing i've written

👻 What is your wildest headcanon?

I have trouble qualifying what my Wildest headcanon would be but one that I haven't talked about much and is definitely me taking an idea and running with it is that Aveyond vampires don't actually get married. I feel like immortal beings that all come from different cultures would fundamentally have a different approach to relationships than mortal ones, or a community that all originated in the same place, and instead of getting married, they celebrate milestones for their relationships - decades, centuries, etc.

On one side of things I feel like committing yourself to someone for your existence would be less common when the existence is theoretically forever, and on the other, I feel like the concept of committing yourself to someone once would feel kind of... cheap? when that could potentially stretch out for centuries. Like, I think because of their lifespans, reaffirming "I love you, I want to be with you" continually is way more important in partnerships than legally putting it into words once. especially because there's no kids to worry about from a legal standpoint with vampires LOL

I think Te'ijal wanted to get married because she thinks it's charming and human and she loves that stuff and everyone else in Ghed'ahre thinks she's a little weirdo for it. I think it would be SO FUNNY if everybody understands that Te'ijal and Galahad are a Thing but the concept of "unwanted marriage" is so foreign to any other vampire that they continually misunderstand the relationship and make Galahad want to explode. Which brings me to the next question.

🎁 Have a piece of a WIP you want to share?

Eventually, Galahad gets fed up with the fact that people keep asking about Te’ijal, his heart, his other half, his lover. Head in his hands, he groans, “has no one in this town heard of a wife before?” When she tells him, he goes quiet. She expects dismissal, or scoffing, or maybe anger – but he just looks away for long enough to re-contextualize the past decade in his head and turns back to her once it’s all fallen into place for him. “Is that why you wanted to marry me? Because you knew no one would ever willingly agree to be with you more than once?” Despite his best efforts, cruelty is not Galahad’s strong suit. That, though. That gets close.

from the aro autistic te'ijal character study i have been chipping away at for a few years now >:3c

🦈 Which character is the toughest to write?

tbh anyone not from aveyond, there's a reason i only write aveyond fic, but within aveyond / characters i actually write, Lars

to me the appeal of lars is entirely in a fic writer's spin on him and i really struggle into spinning him into something that feels like it lines up with canon while also making me like, excited to write him. i would infinitely rather read other people's lars fic than try to write my own

#dear mel #TYSM XZONI

[hismercytomyjustice]

If I had to guess, I’d say I’m writing at about 50% my usual speed because of how much research I’ve been doing for this fic. orz

More fic stuff below:

So far today it’s been research on Lolth and her former boo. And looking at maps trying to figure out what to incorporate in the two chapters I’m having to add closer to the beginning.

I’ve had to go back twice now, which has been super weird for me because I’ve always been a hardcore linear writer. I start at the beginning and go until the end.

Tbh I didn’t know if I could even DO that. Go back and add something, I mean. It’s just not how my writing brain has worked in the past.

I wound up going back twice before already, I think when I was at chapter four, to add a whole other scene to chapter two because it felt too abrupt.

I know it’s discouraged to edit while writing, but this was more so adding than editing?

I tend to write short, I think. I more often find myself having to add things rather than remove. Maybe that’s why the concept of “killing your darlings” has always been a little foreign to me. I don’t have enough darlings to kill. T_T

It’s kind of funny to think about though. Apparently ADHDers tend to have more divergent thinking than convergent thinking, but I think I’ve always treated what little outlining/brainstorming (bullet points of ideas for scenes) I do divergently while I’ve treated my actual writing convergently. I’m also a pantser, though I don’t love the word.

The second time, I was on chapter nine and realized not enough had happened between chapters eight and nine, so I added two new chapters there too. Or at least I think that’s where it was?

This time around I was on chapter 10 before I realized my already heavy Astarion story needed more Gale focused bits. I’ve gone back to add two new chapters after chapter four to fix this.

Who even am I anymore?! 💀 I don’t write like this. This feels illegal. 💀💀💀

It’s been nice having tumblr to externalize my thoughts on the whole process and on my writing in general though. More often than not, I’m hyperaware of all the little things I’m experiencing but I struggle to see the big picture. Journaling has always helped me with that. I wasn’t intending to journal about this in particular, but it’s helped me learn a lot about myself.

I feel like my writing has come a long way too, even if I struggle to see it most of the time. Like, I can’t believe it’s been seven years since I wrote my Cardcaptors fic.

I’ve actually been rereading a lot of my older fics recently. Having a terrible memory helps, lol. Feels like I’m reading something someone else wrote. Haven’t delved back into my original works though.

For me, with my fics I feel like the main thing I notice is that I could use more description of everything. Meanwhile, in my original stuff I feel like I struggle with description, writing strong side characters and villains, and overall story structure. This is probably true to a degree with my fanfics too, but I can rely more on the fact that, if you’re reading one of my fics, you’ve probably already got a good feel for a lot of that stuff because you already have an interest in the media I’m writing them for.

Right now, writing fics for me feels kind of like having the training wheels back on to a degree. I’m trying to use them to learn in a safer space than in my own head (lol). I am not nice to myself, though I’ve gotten considerably better over the years (yay therapy!). Being able to play in someone else’s world is a lot less fraught with things like “oh god I’m a failure, I’ll never be published, no one will ever like this, you’re wasting your time, what makes you think you can write, etc.”

Welcome back Pure O, it’s been a while! 💀 My OCD thought spirals combined with my perfectionism make my brain a not fun place to be, which makes me freeze up, overthink, and struggle to make any progress. I have spent so much time over the past few years just trying to get myself to write again and to not be so critical of my own work that I never create anything. Lol good thing I have therapy tomorrow because I think I just realized my OCD is probably a big part of what’s been causing that. In addition to good ol’ ADHD.

It also helps that you get immediate feedback with fanfics, at least on what’s working well. It’s hard hammering away at something day after day with no dopamine checks to cash. Especially if you have ADHD. I can spend just as much time on an original work that may never see the light of day, but with fanfic I am bound to get at least some people clicking the little heart icon and feeding the Netherese orb of self-doubt inside me!

Yaaaay self-reflection.

#life things #fanfic #writing #writing struggles #ancient books and horror stories #adhd #ocd #learning to be nicer to myself #look how far we’ve come

[saraminia]

Considering The Idea Of You is based on an incredibly poorly written scrubbed Harry Stlyes self-insert fic that somehow got published, I feel like the trailer is exactly what I expected, maybe slightly better

Yeah, I've heard that and that might have affected my opinion tbh. But I've also heard that the author denied that it was originally a Harry Styles fanfic. In any case, I think what I felt watching the trailer was second hand embarrassment. Idk why but I felt physically ill watching it lmao.

I think if it was a story about a secret relationship kept very hush hush it might be more compelling, but as it is, it seems to be all about this childish desire to have everyone know about how you're together with a famous guy who everyone wants. Like how he, on stage at a concert, mentions meeting her and acknowledges her in the audience. And after that it just seems to get worse. It looks to be more about dating a famous guy than about falling in love regardless of the guy being famous. Idk how to explain what I mean really, but it's just that it feels like this very juvenile "oh look at me, I'm the one he chose" and not so much about a genuine love story. I mean, I'm sure it is and the protagonist struggles with him being famous and all that, but the movie itself, I'm sure, will glorify the public relationship aspect. Like, there is a difference between enjoying your love and relationship without giving a fuck about anything anyone thinks and the need to have all those eyes on you so you can feel superior to all the young beautiful adoring fans. And it seems like this movie is all about the latter. Anyway, I've thought about this and talked about this piece of horse shit media way too much now. And that too without even having seen the movie yet lol. So I'll just leave this subject here. I have no more to say before I've seen the actual movie, if that ever happens, which I seriously doubt.

Sorry for the long-winded rambling answer. Apparently I had more thoughts about this than I thought I had. Which btw is usually a sign that it's a good piece of art/media 🤔 Makes you think.. jk this movie is still bs lol

#thanks for the ask anon friend! ❤️

[organized-chaotic-disaster]

@jambudweek Day 2: Singing and/or Humanity 

A Private Performance

Steven’s therapist suggests he turns to music as an emotional outlet after seeing the video of him performing “Never Giving Up.” Unfortunately, he has a difficult time in doing so, until Connie shows up.

Word count: 1,623

Post-SUF

(A little late into the day, I know! Honestly didn’t know if I was gonna finish this on time in the first place, let alone post it. It’s the first fanfic I’ve written in a few years, so please keep that in mind. It was fun, though! I hope you enjoy!)

(If you want to see more writing content from me, either snippets from my original work, or possibly more fanfiction, feel free to visit my writing twitter!)

“Hey! So, uh… my name is Steven Universe! Ah, you already know that, obviously… uhhhhh… sorry I haven’t really uploaded in a few years. My life got pretty crazy a couple years back and—uhhhhh… I just didn’t have the time to. Ah. Make more videos. Or anything. But! Ah… w-well, my therapist told me I should write a song about my feelings, you know, use it as an outlet? She saw my video from a few years ago, where I played that one song I wrote… I-I’ve had a lot on my mind lately and, uhhhh, she said it would be really healthy for me to—NO! This is too weird! I can’t do it!” Steven groaned in frustration, hands covering his face. Why had he let her see that video? He should’ve known she would suggest something like this…

“Steven?”

“Connie? Aw, jeez, what time is it?”

“11:30?” Connie walked into the house, one eyebrow raised. “That is when we agreed to meet up for lunch, after all.”

“I know, I’m sorry, I just… lost track of time, I guess.”

Connie glanced at the camera pointed at Steven, then turned back to face him. “Are you… recording a video?”

“Yeah,” Steven said, blood rushing to his cheeks. He rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed to be caught trying, and failing, to film for the first time in years. “My therapist said I should try using music as an outlet again, so I wrote a song, and I was going to record it and everything, but it just… feels so weird, you know?”

“How do you mean?”

Steven crossed his arms and looked to the floor, feeling awkward with Connie’s probing questions and determination to not break eye contact. “I mean, I haven’t uploaded in years, and the first thing I do is dump all my feelings? I mean, sure, nobody knows the context, which in a way is kind of nice, it keeps some of it private, but also… isn’t it all weirdly personal?”

“Don’t musical artists tend to get all weirdly personal… literally all the time?”

“Yeah, but they’re used to having no privacy. I mean, that’s kind of their entire life, Connie.”

“Whoa, whoa,” Connie raised her hands in defense, shaking her head. “No need to get defensive, Steven. I’m not attacking you; I’m just trying to help you out.”

Steven sighed ashamedly. “I know, I’m sorry. It just feels like… I don’t know, I feel like I’m telling the whole world all my most personal feelings. Isn’t it fair to be at least a little intimidated by that?”

“I mean, yeah, of course it is. But isn’t that the whole point?”

“Huh?”

“Well,” Connie said, “one of the biggest issues you’ve had is being open about your feelings, right? Maybe this is your therapist’s way of helping you get more comfortable with it.”

“I mean, maybe…” Steven said, his tone unsure, though his mind was making the connections. “But it’s still a bit much, don’t you think? Showing this to the whole world and all, that is.”

“Sure, it seems like a lot, but this isn’t supposed to be easy. It’s normal to be scared, Steven.”

Steven was about to respond with some sort of sarcastic or moody remark but stopped himself. She was right, after all. But something still stopped him. Just because he knew it was supposed to be scary didn’t change the fact that he had so many butterflies fluttering around in his stomach that he wanted to throw up. Sure, he knew full well that he was supposed to be facing his demons or whatever, but facing the monster within yourself was a completely different story from facing the monsters within others, literal or metaphorical.

“… Steven?”

Right, Connie was still there and expecting a response. What could he say?

Sighing, Steven resigned himself to just telling her the only thing he did know: “… knowing it’s supposed to be scary doesn’t make it any easier.”

Connie’s face had a soft expression, one of kindness and understanding. She pondered his statement for a moment, eyebrows wrinkling in thought, before finally saying, “if it makes it any easier… maybe you could sing just to me?” Realizing the intimacy of what she’d just suggested, her face became flushed and she looked to the floor. “Only if you’re comfortable with it, of course! I just thought that focusing on one person—”

“That… might actually help.” Steven said.

Even though she was the one who had the idea in the first place, Connie looked surprised. “A-are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Steven shrugged. “I wanted to share this with someone, but immediately sharing it with the whole world might be a bit… too much. I think that sharing it with you would be okay, though. Baby steps, right?”

“Oh,” Connie’s shoulders relaxed and the colour in her face returned to normal. “If it helps, then I’ll just… sit right here?” She made her way to the couch and took a seat, brushing off her skirt while she did so.

“Yeah, that’s perfect!” Steven readied himself again, ensuring his guitar was tuned properly and putting his fingers in the right places. His hands still shook ever so slightly, but having her there made it easier. He already felt like some of the butterflies had peacefully left his stomach, easing his nerves. He found that he could even put on his cheery persona again, if with some effort. “Now, without further ado, here’s Being Human!”

His fingers began to dance on the guitar strings, perfectly hitting every note after all the hours it took to write them just right. He was grateful for the song’s somewhat lengthy intro because his throat was still tight with anxiety, even if he was only singing to Connie. He tried breathing deeply, just like his therapist had taught him to, before finally beginning to sing.

“Just a little time,” he sang. “Just a little something else instead.” He looked up to see Connie’s fingers tapping along to the music. “Just a little time.” The thought of Connie enjoying the song gave him a light feeling that bloomed in his chest, encouraging his song. “Just a little something up ahead I’m dreaming of.” He closed his eyes and tilted his head down, absorbing himself more into the music. “Being… being… human…”

He continued to play, glancing at Connie every now and then to gauge her reaction. All seemed to be going well; her fingers continued tapping, and she even bounced her knee to the beat at one point, until she noticed him looking. As for Steven, he poured his entire heart and soul into his performance (as one always should), and by the end of it, tears pricked his eyes. When his fingers strummed the last chord, he noticed that he felt much lighter than he had for a long while. He did another mental check of his insides, in which there was no butterflies to be found. Well, except for one…

Connie was clapping, exclaiming “Steven, that was great!”

… and that last butterfly was gone.

“You really think so?” Blood rushed to Steven’s cheeks again, this time not in embarrassment, but in flattery.

“Yeah! I mean, I know that it doesn’t matter how good it is, that’s not the point, but it really was a great song.”

Before Steven could process what was happening, Connie rushed over and hugged him with all her strength. His face became hot from the surprise and the joy it brought him. His arms rose to wrap around her, never wanting to let go. He closed his eyes, savouring the moment, but realized he’d seen something he shouldn’t have seen before he’d done so. Slowly, he peeled his eyes open, praying it wasn’t true, but…

“… aw, jeez, I was still recording.”

“Huh?” Connie said, confused, before she turned her gaze to where he was looking. Surely enough, the red button that indicated the camera was recording was on.

“Argh, I’m such an idiot! I’m sorry, I should’ve—” Steven cut himself short, because Connie was… laughing? “Hey, are you laughing at me!?”

“No, no!” Connie stopped, but it was clear she was struggling, as she kept supressing snorts and chuckles. Before long, her composure broke, and she burst out laughing yet again. “Okay, you’ve gotta admit it’s a little funny.”

“What is?”

“Just the fact that you were all anxious to record yourself singing the song and didn’t even realize your camera was still on when you eventually did manage to do it under the guise that it was a private performance.”

“… okay, you got me there. I’m not keeping it, though!”

“Oh, come on!” Connie pleaded. “Can I just have it, then?”

“Why do you want it? I’ll probably just record it again and post it anyway.”

“Sure, but…” Connie paused for a beat, finding her words. “That’s the first time you ever performed that song for someone else! It’s special, I wanna keep it!” When Steven didn’t respond, she persisted. “Pleeeeaaaase?”

“Fine,” Steven said, before immediately adding, “only if you buy my lunch!”

“Okay,” Connie rolled her eyes. “A small price to pay for a rare recording of Steven Universe performing his latest hit!”

“Yeah, whatever, you dork,” Steven said. He had a playful glint in his eye, realizing he could take advantage of her newfound victory. “I’ll race you to the dondai!”

“Wha—Hey!” Connie cried when Steven pushed her off, getting his completely unfair head start.

Naturally, after their debate over ownership of the tape, the couple had forgotten to turn the camera off, leaving its battery to die after recording hours of literally nothing but a forgotten warp pad and guitar.

#jamweek #connverse #su #steven universe #suf #steven universe future #fanfic #fanfiction #my writing #idk man... does it count for both? or even either at all?? lajklsdjflksdjaklfsaldfsak #look I just had this idea already and saw this prompt and was like #ah yes... perfect #BUT I struggle more with fanfic than my original ideas tbh so #pls don't judge too hard akdlkasdjfklasdjkl #this was honestly just for fun and bc I wanted it to exist l o l #also sorry for plugging my twitter... just wanna get the word out there |D

[ultimatebethylficlist]

Veteran Author of The Month: June 2021

The featured veteran author for June is also a co-admin right here at UBFL: SquishyCool (or @im-immortal )!

SquishyCool can be found on AO3 and FFN under the same penname.

When asked what got her into Bethyl and what the fandom means to her, she said:

I’ve been a hardcore TWD fan since the show began airing, but that’s because of my love for zombies. In all honesty, I didn’t really ship anyone for the first 3-4 seasons. I kind of shipped Daryl with Carol, but then it became clear that it was a platonic relationship and in all honesty, I just wanted to see them both get some action lmao. Then the prison fell... and in those first moments of “Still,” when we see Beth and Daryl running and running and finally collapsing on the ground, breathless and exhausted... the butterflies started. Something clicked and I immediately thought, “uh oh.” The rest is history, especially considering how “Still” and “Alone” played out. I can’t explain how or why I’m still so heavily invested, especially considering my last 2 fandoms only kept my attention for about 2-3 years each, but here I am. And I love it! I am so incredibly grateful for the Bethyl fandom because not only has it helped me improve my writing so much more than I ever could have imagined, but it has also introduced me to some of the most amazing people, including someone who I now consider one of my very best friends! It’s my happy place :)

For her personal fic rec list, she recommends:

In The Maw by ronsparkyspeirs

Way Down We Go by LeathernLaces

Surfacing by lindentree

Wild Things (The Moonshine Poet) by Abelina

The Gift by Feliz

The Man Who Can't Be Moved by burningupasun

New Experiences Series by wallflow3r

Whisper Softly to Me by taylorcatherine

Interstice by leftmywingshome

To Love Like a Man by Seraphique

Death, Death (i defy thee) by alamorn

In My Blood by Courtneyshortney82

Let the Good Times Roll by gutsforgarters

Resolved by Allatariel

the weight of these wings by peachthorns

all my spaces are filled with you by annabeth_writes

A Little Jailbreak with the Little Jailbait by wandering_gypsy_feet

between the beginning and the end by sheriffandsteel

SquishyCool’s Works & Personal Thoughts:

Dirty Fingernails and Dried Blood Summary: What happened during the months between "Still" and "Alone"? Beth uses the last pages of her diary to write down every detail of surviving with Daryl. Thoughts: My first Bethyl fanfic. It holds a special place in my heart for that reason, though it is pretty rough. If I could go back, I never would’ve done it entirely in first-person. But I do plan to finish it one day. There are some scenes I’m particularly proud of, and I still have a long note full of ideas and plot points.

Most Wanted Summary: After Beth’s mother and half-brother are murdered in a drug war, the godly veil on the Greene Family operation is lifted, and law enforcement comes down hard. In an effort to protect her family, Beth commits a heinous crime that could mean life in prison alongside them. Now everyone she’s ever trusted is in police custody and her only chance at freedom is to get as far away from Atlanta as she can... Thoughts: Well, this is a must-read if you like my writing. I hope to one day convert this into an original fiction and maybe get it published, but I need to finish it first LOL. I got the idea from ONE scene of “Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt,” and from there, it exploded into a huge mystery thriller (with lots of romance and smut). I’m really really proud of it, and I’m scared I’ll fuck it up tbh, so I keep putting off continuing it. But I really need to get back to it because I really want people to see what I have planned! (Also, this fic is the reason @courtneyshortney82​ started talking to me, so that alone is pretty historic lmao)

The Crow’s Song Summary: Beth and Daryl spend a few more days together in the funeral home and come to terms with all they've lost along the way. But soon, they must decide what comes next. Thoughts: This fic... this fucking fic. It took me a full year to write. I made numerous edits. I even got a little depressed while I was writing the last two chapters, and my bf didn’t know why until he read what I’d been writing lol. It’s honestly the Bethyl fic I’ve always wanted to write but just didn’t know how. I’m still really really proud of how it turned out.

Carnival Games Summary: Daryl is a traveling carnival worker and Beth is a barely legal farmer's daughter looking for a night of fun when the carnival comes to town. Thoughts: Omg this fic is so fun!! One of my first Bethyl fics, and one of my first Bethyl smut fics. Short, sweet, a little funny, and a lot hot. I am still impressed with myself on this one, especially considering how much my writing has improved since lol

Breathe. Please. Summary: Beth shows up at the Hilltop. Alive. Daryl can hardly believe his eyes. Until she's lying in his bed, an arm's reach away. And he can hear her inhaling... exhaling... inhaling... Thoughts: Another “fix-it” that I’m proud of. Tbh I didn’t think it was anything all that special, but a lot of readers have said it’s one of their favorites, and some say they reread it regularly, and nothing makes me happier than hearing that, so I am extremely proud.

picking @ scabs Summary: Sometimes, no matter how much you love someone, being with them just isn't right. But what wouldn't you give for it to be right? Can someone like Daryl learn how to swallow his pride and stop repeating the same mistakes over and over? Can someone like Beth learn to fight off her demons and allow him to get close enough to hurt her again? How can they stay away from each other when it's all too easy to fall back into one another? Picking a scab will leave a scar, but they both have so many scars already... what's a few more? Thoughts: This fic is very, very personal for me. It’s like my “therapy” fic. I have poured some of my deepest feelings and struggles into its chapters, and the whole idea that got me to start it was that I wanted to find a way to navigate and cope with ending my 3-year long relationship with my emotionally/mentally/sometimes physically abusive ex. I still have a lot of fond memories from that relationship, but even more so, I have painful memories. Not to mention, going through your early 20s as a woman in the modern day is a fuckin’ trip, so this kind of explores that. It’s really self-indulgent, I think, but I’m really proud of the smut in it. And more than that, I’m proud of the response. I’ve had a few people message me or comment to say that they’ve felt all those things, or have experienced similar things, and it’s really just... relieving. I put my heart and soul out there, and what I got back was “you’re not alone.” So yeah, this fic is special. I wanna finish it soon, but I have to be in A Mood to do so. 

In Toto Corde Summary: Despite a million reasons not to, Beth and Daryl fell in love. Then he made the ultimate sacrifice in order to keep all of his promises. Now, facing unimaginable consequences at the hands of witch hunters, Beth has no choice but to use her powers to bring Daryl back from the dead. "He won't be the same..." Thoughts: I LOVE THIS FIC. I love it so much that I had to rewrite it after like 4 or 5 years. And I already started on a sequel that I really hope I’m able to finish. Though it doesn’t have many hits, and I don’t think many people have read it at all, which I understand since it basically is entirely focused around Daryl being killed. But damn, I’m proud of this one, and it was really fucking fun to write because witch!Beth is just... the best.

risk it all (part 1 of in for a penny, in for a pound) Summary: Daryl Dixon has a pretty decent life, all things considered. He's got his own place. A good dog. A few friends. Even a girlfriend. He keeps himself out of trouble. Until he starts texting Beth Greene. And hell, if he ain't about to risk it all for this damn girl. Thoughts: This was supposed to be one short multichapter fic focused entirely on smut and social media. Then I got on a roll and it ended up being the beginning of a series! This fic is purely fun. Nothing too serious or heavy. I write it when I’m in a Good Mood because it’s my little happy place. I have plans for about 4 more fics before the series will be finished!

Don’t Make Me Haunt You Summary: So here's the thing: Merle Dixon is dead as fuck. And as it turns out, Beth Greene is the only one who can see or hear him. Which is weird considering she's never met or even heard of this guy, let alone anyone with the last name Dixon. That's her first problem... Thoughts: The reception to this fic has absolutely blown me away. I had no idea anyone would want to read about ghost!Merle haunting Beth and forcing her to solve his murder with the help of his grumpy brother. And it was all inspired by an episode of South Park lmao then I started really getting into it and now it’s just like, my super fun fic where I explore a range of emotions and all kinds of religious beliefs and different mythologies and I can build the world however I want and goddamn I just love writing this fic. Plus there’s a podfic for it! I can’t even begin to explain how much I love this fic and how proud I am of it :)

#bethyl fanfiction #veteran author of the month

[lilydalexf]

Old School X is a project interviewing X-Files fanfic authors who were posting fic during the original run of the show. New interviews are posted every Tuesday.

Interview with Tabula Rasa

Tabula Rasa has 8 stories at Gossamer, but there are even more X-Files fics at AO3 and her website. She writes Mulder and Scully in a very lovely way. I've recced 3 of my favorites of her fics here before: Bird in Snow, Fall: East on M St, and Skuamorph. Big thanks to Tabula Rasa for doing this interview.

Does it surprise you that people are still interested in reading your X-Files fanfics and others that were posted during the original run of the show (1993-2002)?

I'm always extremely pleasantly surprised to get kudos (or, very rarely, a comment) on my old fic, but I'm always happy to see it! I did post them all (I think) to AO3. I'm not surprised people are still reading fic, though. It's an iconic show and now with streaming, it's really easy to watch older shows and natural to want fic about them!

What do you think of when you think about your X-Files fandom experience? What did you take away from it?

XF was my first fandom, definitely my first online fandom, and so it will always have a special place in my heart. Also... I had a great time! I stumbled upon and joined the Scullyfic email list by accident, but it was the best thing I could have done. I learned a lot about how to be a writer and how to be in fandom, and those lessons are still important to me. Foundational. Also, in terms of modern fandom drama, XF was more low-key on the drama (although it didn't seem like it at the time!). But I learned something that's always served me well: find like-minded people, and hang out with them. Don't worry about the rest.

Also... you can't control the show, but you kind of can control the canon.

Because of Scully, I ended up taking a forensic anthropology class in university-- and now I have a Master's in a forensic science! Part of the Scully Effect, and proud of it!

Social media didn't really exist during the show's original run. How were you most involved with the X-Files online (atxc, message board, email mailing list, etc.)?

Definitely mostly email list! I never really got the hang of message boards. Posting fic was exhausting, and tbh I never figured out how to work Ephemeral. I checked it every day, though! I loved, after a new episode, everyone sending in their thoughts and reading everyone's experiences together. Fandom was a lot more work back then, tbh!

What did you take away from your experience with X-Files fic or with the fandom in general?

That fic can be just as good, or better, than traditionally published works. There are works of XF fic that have stuck with me for years now, far more than some books I've read. That fan writers can know the characters better than the show writers. The fandom in general was really smart, and mostly more adult than me (I joined fandom when I went away to college, so I always felt at the younger end of the scale. That was good though!).

Also, my first time reading and writing porn. Not gonna lie, I was shocked the first time I accidentally read smut. But I adjusted fast. lol

What was it that got you hooked on the X-Files as a show?

I was still a kid (now we would say preteen) when the show premiered- I think in middle school. But I was already into ghosts, aliens, monsters, solving mysteries, and I'd already imprinted on the dynamic thanks to Square One (really)! I was also just old enough to start developing celebrity crushes. Hilariously, I did not twig to the fact that I'm bisexual the entire time I was in XF fandom, despite having enormous crushes on BOTH Mulder and Scully. Ahhhh!

Also, my whole family was into the show, but I was definitely the one with the hyperfixation. I used to take notes and record the episodes as I watched. It just had the right stuff and hit at the right time. And I've always been obsessive.

What got you involved with X-Files fanfic?

As a kid I also really liked Star Trek, and someone had given my dad a book about the history of Star Trek, which I read. This included mentions of fandom and fanfic. As soon as I had a private-- and perhaps more importantly fast-- internet connection (in college), I went looking for XF fanfic, and that was that. Hooked immediately. Also I shipped them A LOT so that's what I went looking for.

What is your relationship like now to X-Files fandom?

I tend to not go back to a fandom once I have a new fandom, so I wouldn't say I'm in it. I did hang around the edges for the revival, of course, because I wanted to experience that with the same people, but since the revival was mostly not that great (with a few exceptions), I didn't get pulled back into it. But I still think of the people I knew in the fandom a lot, and always hope they're doing well.

Were you involved with any fandoms after the X-Files? If so, what was it like compared to X-Files?

I've never left fandom, and I've been in a BUNCH: Harry Potter, Doctor Who, Bandom, Supernatural, now CQL/The Untamed and other Chinese-media fandoms, with many smaller ones in between or on the side. I feel like at their core fandoms tend to be similar, although where you host the fandom makes a big difference: Livejournal, tumblr, twitter. I think that because fandoms now tend to be bigger and more diverse (which is good) there tends to be more wank (which is bad). In some of them I was close to a group of people, some of them not. Honestly the best thing is when someone you know from an old fandom is in your new fandom. It's so much fun. I have really good friends thanks to fandom, and I've had them for YEARS. Like. 15 years.

Who are some of your favorite fictional characters? Why?

I tend to focus more on ships than characters, but some of my all-time favs: Scully, Hermione, Sirius Black, Castiel, Lan Wangji, Xie Lian. That's just fandom-oriented ones, otherwise we'd be here all day. :D

Do you ever still watch The X-Files or think about Mulder and Scully?

I don't often rewatch episodes any more, although if I come across an ep on tv I might. I definitely still think about them though! For example, I'm a teacher now, and just a couple weeks ago one of my colleagues mentioned he'd heard the students saying they shipped two of their classmates, and he was like "Ship? I don't get it" and I was like "HOO BOY, do I have a story for you!" And I explained how shipping came from XF fandom, and why. That was fun. I definitely still think about Mulder and Scully too-- I mean, they're cultural touchstones, so they do come up sometimes in greater pop culture. Also, I was in Hannibal fandom for a while, and Gillian Anderson is still The Best.

Do you ever still read X-Files fic? Fic in another fandom?

I haven't read XF fic in years, even the ones I remember as being really significant/important to me. I still have my all-time favs saved on an external HD though! Fic in another fandom- every day lol.

Do you have any favorite X-Files fanfic stories or authors?

Blinded by White Light by DashaK has stuck with me. Mr. and Mrs. Smith and the Ruby-Throated Warbler by I forget I'm so sorry -- that's lasted as my ideal post-canon MSR and as an interesting and different way to tell a story.  [Lilydale note: It’s by rah.] I was always thrilled to see fic by Brandon, JET, MaybeAmanda, Syntax6... and, frankly, everyone on the Scullyfic/ Emuse list. So many talented people in that fandom!

What is your favorite of your own fics, X-Files and/or otherwise?

Things Outside, which is the only thing I've ever written based on a dream, and I'm really satisfied with it. It was hard to write but so much fun to revel in the weirdness. I always kind of wanted to write more because I know a lot more about the situation, but otoh, I like the open, ambiguous ending (usually I am very HEA).

In other fandoms, King & Country in bandom (MCR) and in Supernatural I'm very proud of Hope and Clay. I struggle to write casefics even though I love to read them, but that one really worked out.

Do you think you'll ever write another X-Files story? Or dust off and post an oldie that for whatever reason never made it online?

I don't think I'll ever write something new. There is an old fic that may be done but it was smut so I was too shy to post it at the time. In theory if I find it and it's decent, I could post it!

Do you still write fic now? Or other creative work?

I do! I write fic very slowly, but I do write still! I have a million ideas for stories, but I'm so slow at the actual writing part.

Where do you get ideas for stories?

I usually take a jumping-off point from canon, or of course, something I need to fix or expand on. Or sometimes I start telling myself a story as I fall asleep and the idea grabs me long enough I can manage to write it.

What's the story behind your pen name?

I was getting into fandom and realized people didn't use their real names. I flipped through my history book looking for inspiration, and decided tabula rasa was a great name for a writer. I tend to add an X because it's rare to get "tabularasa" as a username, and the X is indeed for X-Files (so I'm something like tabulaxrasa most places). I usually go by Tabula Rasa or Tab, though. And I still use it because 1) it IS a great name for a writer; and 2) it's not fandom-specific so I can keep it in every fandom.

I identify with it so much I have answered to this name in class (oops). I have a "Tab" t-shirt (as in the soda, but I have worn it to Comic-Con for ease of ID-- better than a nametag!). And my mom got me a necklace with a "tab" typewriter key as a charm, which I adore. Yes, I have accidental merch of myself.

Do your friends and family know about your fic and, if so, what have been their reactions?

As you can tell from the above, my family knows (my family being my parents and sister). They are supportive! I think my mom read a couple stories? But obviously she has to know the fandom to get it... I got my sister into fic, and we even wrote a couple fics together (in Gundam Wing). She's a lot more selective about fandoms, but she's joined fandoms on her own, too. She's just not in one constantly, like me. :p

I tend not to tell not-online friends unless I have felt them out and know they're super fannish, or they bring it up first.

Is there a place online (tumblr, twitter, AO3, etc.) where people can find you and/or your stories now?

Most of my old fic is now on AO3 and I hang out on twitter a lot, @tabula_x_rasa

Is there anything else you'd like to share with fans of X-Files fic?

I'm really glad people are still in this fandom! It will always be so important to me. Thank you Lilydale, for this nostalgia trip!

(Posted by Lilydale on March 30, 2021)

#old school x #xfiles fanfic #xf fanfic #xf fanfic author interviews #tabula rosa

[punkrockbuttrfly]

So I got tagged by @electrick-indigo to answer some questions about the fanfics I write

How many works do you have on AO3? 68. Most of those are things I write during Fictober challenges, so I’ll need to write something before October this year so I can have it be a nice number for a while

What’s your total AO3 word count? 152,901

What fandoms have you written for? Doctor Who, Classic, New and Big Finish (including Gallifrey and Bernice Summerfield), Kingdom Hearts, Power Rangers (show and comics), Star Wars, Metal Gear, Red Dwarf, The Mechanisms, Among Us, Undertale, and Untitled Goose Game. Most of those fandoms I’ve only written one or two fics for, most of them are Doctor Who related and also that one anonymous fic we don’t talk about but if you’ve read it you Know

What are your top 5 fics by kudos? Somehow Untitled Goose God is my most popular (for Untitled Goose Game, obvs) despite it being probably my shortest piece written in like 20 minutes inspired by a piece of friend art. After that is Revelation of the Laundry (New Who), The Standards of Trust (Star Wars, probably ongoing assuming I ever finish it), Time and Space to Study (New Who) and finally The Sevateem’s New War Cry (Gallifrey).

Do you respond to comments, why or why not? I try to, because I thrive on validation and am desperate for people to prop up my considerable ego. I like it when people tell me what they enjoyed about my story, and also half the time inspire an even better idea that I can write later. I’m really nothing without an audience to crib jokes from.

What is the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending? Honestly I can think of a few but the one that I’m going to promote is actually my most recent fic, Who commands, a Toy obeys (Doctor Who, The Mechanisms) where the Twelfth Doctor meets the Mechs’ own Toy Soldier and ends up having yet another emotional crisis, as 12 tends to do a lot.

Do you write crossovers? If so, what’s the craziest one you’ve written? Well I did just talk about my Doctor Who/Mechanisms crossover, but I’ve also written a couple more. I wrote a Gallifrey/Red Dwarf one and a Power Rangers Time Force/Doctor Who one and that’s the extent of my crossovers, though I’m not opposed to writing more.

Have you ever received hate on a fic? Not really. I’ve had a few people comment to say they disliked an integral part of the story and then say nothing else, but I don’t think that qualifies as hate. Though tbh if they did I’d just laugh, like, how do you not have anything better to do? I know my writing isn’t good, that’s why I’m writing fanfic for fun to get better at it so that eventually I might be able to be good at writing.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Not so far, though I’m not opposed to the concept. I just wouldn’t really know where to start.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? No, and I doubt I will, although again if it did happen I’d just laugh. Like, of all the wonderful creators you could be stealing from, you picked me? Surely you must have better taste.

Have you ever co-written a fic before? Not yet. I’d like to, mostly because in theory it will get me to stop procrastinating and do a thing, and also I’d love to develop a concept with someone else with a different perspective and ideas. In theory I’m meant to be planning a co-written fic with someone, buuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuut spoons are in very short supply and it’s sort of not gotten off the ground yet (sorry!)

What’s your all-time favourite ship? I don’t do favourites really, and half of my “favourite” ships are canon anyway and I haven’t written much or anything for that ship. Based on the shipfics I have written probably my most prolific one is either Narvin/Leela or Liv Chenka/Helen Sinclair (which is now definitely not canon as of Stranded).

What’s a WIP you want to finish but don’t think you ever will? Considering that The Standards of Trust (linked above) is supposed to be a series of stories across Ahsoka’s life but I’m taken a huge amount of time to watch The Clone Wars already and also I refuse to watch her solo spinoff series because of bullshit casting decisions, I don’t think I’ll ever “finish” it.

What are your writing strengths? I have absolutely no idea. Why do you people read my writing? This isn’t even self-deprecating, I genuinely want to know what y’all like about my writing because I have no idea.

What are your writing weaknesses? Second verse, same as the first. But also my spoons deficit and tendency to procrastinate hard, but that’s hardly exclusive to me, that’s something most writers struggle with.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? Never done it, probably won’t do it in any substantial capacity. I’ve tried learning languages before and I’m spectacularly bad at it, so I’ll most likely never have the proficiency to do it well enough to confidently publish something like that.

What was the first fandom you wrote for? Doctor Who. Also Gallifrey. The Macqueen Master battled Narvin. The Resurrection of Fear was the first fanfic I ever wrote after not having applied myself to writing fiction for a very long time beyond a couple of drabbles as a teenager, so it’s not very good, but hopefully it can serve as a demonstration of progression.

What’s your favourite fic you’ve written? Beyond the Stars, the followup to the Beyond the Grid arc of the Boom Studios Power Rangers comics that I wanted so much that I decided to write it myself, enough that hopefully soon I’ll get back to actually writing it, but this is one WIP I am determined to finish. By the end it’s going to be novel-length, and while it’s based on a non-original IP, it’s meant to be standalone enough that hopefully anyone can read it without needing context. Besides, do you need more context than “gay superhero found family space opera”?

Tagging @being-of-rain, @alison-is-a-lesbian, and @floptopus

#I needed to start promoting my fanfics on my tumblr anyway so thanks Rae!

[marvellouslymadmim]

Hey! Aspiring fanfic writer here; I was wondering if you could talk a bit about your writing/editing process and how long it all takes.

Thanks!

Welp, roughly the same extremely long amount of time it takes to actually answer an ask, tbh 🙃

So...I only know how my brain works, and I can only tell you what works for me might not work for you, and that's OK. I'm breaking into two separate bits, because I almost never do writing and editing at the same time.

And as far as a timeline, honestly it just depends. On life factors, what my hormones are doing at the time (jfc like the week before my period, I have zero creativity, motivation, or attention span), if I'm having trouble with a particular scene, if I'm getting consistent positive feedback (yes, I can totally admit that I write faster when I know a particular reviewer is following along with every update), etc.

WRITING:

First, you gotta just...be fixated, I guess. Particularly if it's an AU, I sit with it for a long time before I ever write a word. I go over scenes, think about how the world changes, what stays the same, what *has* to stay the same to keep the characters true to their canon personalities. I sit with the characters for a long time, too--not just the main characters, but the supporting cast, too. In order to predict someone's future, you have to know their past. Most of our present actions are actually reactions to past events, when you think about it. The better you know your version of the character, the easier every other aspect of writing will be. I don't know how it is for other people, but I don't ever "feel" like I'm writing. I feel like I'm "witnessing", and the characters are simply doing whatever they wish. (***this is gonna be a thing during the editing process, too, so hang on to that)

Then once I have a general idea, I choose a title. Generally, I do not even start a word document until I have a proper title to put on it. The title is part of the theme and aesthetic to me, and it grounds me in the overall arc.

Once that's done, it's time for outlining. I generally wait until I feel this weird almost tingling in my left arm (weirder still bc I'm right handed) and I'm practically vibrating with a need to WRITE THIS STORY NOW. Then I put on some Bear McCreary (honestly, any videogame soundtrack will do, as they are literally designed to help you maintain focus and keep pace) and fucking go to town. For me, it helps to do this with pen and paper, so that I can go back up and squiggle little notes in the margin, rearrange the order, etc, far faster than I could on a computer.

Important note: the outline is not the end-all be-all. Some things don't make it to the final print. Some minor storylines get tossed or characters simply...take a different path than I expect. I will continue re-writing and updating the outline as I go along. On average, I usually have 5-8 outlines per story, and they're often 3-10 pages long. I also have a posted outline, which is a log of all the scenes that did make it to the final product. 

Then, it's the actual writing, at long last. I have found that I write best at the start of my day, before the noise and static of daily life comes in. So I wake up around 5am and spend 90minutes writing before beginning my workday routine. I have the Word app on my phone and may continue adding bits in throughout the day at work, if I get a moment. However, after 5pm my brain is usually fried and no more creativity happens. On weekends, I try to have one morning where I "sleep in" til 6am, and then write until at least 10am, sometimes 2pm, if I can get away with it.

The hardest part still is knowing when to transition and when to skip to the next chapter/scene/whatever. This is like...zero percent helpful, but I liken it to Supreme Court Justice Potter Stewart's definition of pornography: "I know it when I see it." It may seem like a scene is circling, and sometimes it means you gotta leave the room a bit earlier bc the scene has already served its purpose. Other times, it means ya gotta stay with it a bit longer, because there's something the character is trying to say. Give them patience, and give yourself patience, too. Explore the scene and its dynamics. You won't know til you know and even then, sometimes you won't be entirely sure. That's ok, too. Part of the process. Remember editing will happen and you can decide then (hell, you can literally re-edit after it's been published, I've done that before too and added a note on the next chapter for any readers who might have read the first version 🤷🏻‍♀️ not ideal but still functional).

EDITING:

I do simple edits (spelling, grammar, etc) just about every morning as I reread what I wrote the day before, which is a refresher course for the day's writing session. But big "real" editing generally doesn't happen until right before posting.

Now, here's the ***issue from writing: sometimes, something just "doesn't work" in a scene. Again, you'll know it when you see it. The words a character is saying feels clunky. The pacing feels off. Something just...ain't right. More often than not, it means either I haven't truly sat with a character long enough to know their true motivations/backstory, or I am not giving characters the proper time/space/impediment to make the actions or say the things they're currently making/saying. I'm trying to force the flow, rather than letting it ebb and breathe when it needs to.

Absolute ProTip: You spent HOURS writing this scene. It's got some REALLY GOOD moments and lines in it. It doesn't work but you can't just delete it. It's your LIFE. I struggle with this A LOT, and I have found a solution: create a second "outtakes" document to cut and paste those scenes into. Sometimes I still keep moments or bits of dialog. Sometimes I later use bits in a later scene. Sometimes I never look at it again but I still feel secure in knowing that if I wanted to go back and use the original scene instead, I totally can. I don't think I've actually ever gone back to the original, tbh, but it reduced my anxiety about deleting the scene and starting over.

So back to the scene that doesn't work. I take it apart, figure out *at what exact point* it stops working, then work back up a few lines to see where the shift actually begins. More often than not, it's because I'm having characters express their feelings in ways they actually wouldn't. (people very very very rarely actually say what they're thinking/feeling, and you have to relay it in other ways). So I have to keep the internal monologue of what they're actually feeling/thinking, while figuring out how that actually translates via tone, body language, and what they do and don't say.

The "something ain't working stage" can take LITERAL WEEKS. I sometimes have to walk away for awhile, or tackle it only on days when I know I have hours upon hours to truly work on it. I keep circling back around, and eventually, the knot works itself out. Persistence, and insistence that "good enough" isn't actually good enough, are key. (this is why you have to fixated on the story you want to tell--because some days, it's going to take every ounce of that obsession to keep you going and keep you on the track of telling the story you wanted to tell, rather than settling or switching to an easier tack)

Sometimes, editing is a breeze. I don't change much, I may go a little more into the character's inner world here or there. Once you've been doing this for awhile, you'll just know when a story hits all its marks--and you'll also know when it's not, when it could be more or do more, and you can figure out how to get it there. There isn't a precise formula for it, it's more like cooking without an actual recipe to follow--a dash here, a bit there, you'll know it when you taste it.

And I'll leave you with this unsolicited bit: just write. Write often, write about everything, write what makes YOU passionate and happy, and absolutely write for yourself. Edit the fuck out of it, if you need to. Get a beta reader, if you need to. Get someone to just bounce ideas off, if you need to. And don't post it until you're truly ready and it's something you genuinely want to share. If someone gives constructive criticism, take in on the chin and move on (keep the notes, if you think they're valid, and toss em if you don't--you'll never be everyone's style of writer, so know that sometimes, people just won't be the target audience). Know that you'll grow and you'll learn and you'll find your own voice and like any skill, you'll develop a second nature about it--all those parts where I say "you'll know it when you see it" or "you'll feel it" absolutely come from spending a literal lifetime (28 years) writing stories, and thirteen years of writing fanfic in particular. It's ok if you don't see it or feel it right away. It takes practice. And you will have an audience at every skill level, no matter what (finding that audience? different story altogether...).

All totaled, this process can take anywhere from 3months to over a year. Stories are like children, I've found: they each develop at their own pace, and some may need more time and assistance than others. But they're still pretty wonderful. (except the bratty stories. they're the worst 🙄)

#thanks anon! #asks #writing asks #writing reference #i guess? #i hope it helps!! #fic writing

[rebelsandtherest]

If you were going to write/read a public au, what elements would you like explored? Asking for a friend, of course

OOOooOoOohh man there is just so much to unpack, you know? It would be so interesting to explore a world where the nations are public figures, maybe even close to celebrities. I have too many ideas to list them all here, but here are a few thoughts:

1. Who is revealed first? Nearly all of the AUs I’ve read in this vein (and tbh there aren’t a lot out there) all revolve around the moment that nations’ existence is revealed to the world, and unless I’m mistaken, all of them (save for maybe one) imply that the USA is the origin of the leak. Whether that be through a breach in intelligence, incompetence, or Alfred flat out admitting it himself, this is a common motif in these stories and honestly, I kind of hate it.

Like, I get it. The nation who gets revealed first usually ends up being the focal character of any given AU, and seeing as the bulk of the fandom’s fanfic authors are American, Alfred gets a lot of attention. On the other side of things, people who dislike America will use this as a way to bash on Alfred/The US as a whole. All in all, the premise is popular and not unreasonable. However, it lacks creativity and imagination.

I have no idea if I’d ever have time to write my own nations revealed/public AU, but if I did, I have seriously considered having—and hear me out—Canada be the source of the info leak. Why? A few reasons.

Canada is one of the, if not the, most-liked nation in the world. Multiple polls over multiple years have always set Canada on top of the world in terms of good public opinion internationally. Seriously, virtually no nation has a beef with Canada except for the Philippines who had to play hot potato with Canadian garbage for a few years back in 2013/2014.

Canada, while being a member of NATO, the UN, UNESCO, G7, G20, I could go on, has historically taken a backseat to other more powerful nations, a trend which Canadian diplomats and PMs are continually trying to overcome. However, if Canada were to become the source of arguably the largest intelligence breach in the history of... well, if not the world, certainly the last millennium, I think that Canada might suddenly get all that attention it’s been after, just maybe not in the right way.

Several AUs that feature Alfred as the first to be revealed will also feature some scenario wherein the paparazzi or news mistakes Matthew for Alfred. I think it would be fun to flip this script and have Alfred’s big reveal come when someone mistakes him for Matthew. And suddenly, for the first time ever, It’s not “Alfred and his twin, Matthew,” it’s “Matthew and his twin, Alfred”. Also, this would drag Alfred into the spotlight and suddenly the US has to confirm or deny the whole nations thing, and holy shit, did they really confirm it? It’s not just Canada, what is happening? Where are the rest of them? How long have they known about all of this? Who else is out there?

Canada being the first spokesperson for all nations, just for a bit, before everyone’ identities are known. Just... I need it. Again, Canada is very well-loved around the world. (Whether this is merited or not I will leave up to you). But you have to realize that, when suddenly the world is full of essentially immortal beings, all of whom have been active and more often than not willing participants in the most heinous atrocities in history, people are going to be extremely mad at them. And when the humans are all riled up and demanding answers, the spokesperson for the nations, the first one to be revealed, the one who has to protect his fellow nations who are struggling to remain in hiding so they can control their own lives, is..... Canada. I just think that’s a great and interesting scenario.

2. How are the others revealed? Do they have a choice?

So after the news breaks and Canada is revealed, how do the other nations respond? I’ve already said that I think Alfred would be found out in short order due to his being practically identical with Matt. Someone sees him, thinks he’s Canada, he’s confused and insists he’s not, a bunch of online conspiracy theorists (who’ve lowkey suspected about nations for a while) come out of the woodwork with images of Alfred in U.S. military uniforms spanning the last century, and suddenly the US government is forced to own up to Al’s existence.

So you’ve got two big countries revealed. Who’s next?

Do nations go into hiding? If they do, do they have their government’s support?

Do some governments forcibly reveal their nations’ identities as some kind of PR move?

Do others just continue on with their lives and hope they don’t get found out?

Do nations just ‘out’ themselves on purpose to get it all over with?

How is the response different for nations who are women?

I have only very foggy opinions on who goes into hiding and who doesn’t, how other nations are revealed, etc, but it would be really interesting to discuss. (I do have specific opinions on Germany, Prussia, Sweden, and Finland, but that’s another post for another time.)

3. When the dust settles, what are the nations’ relationships with the general public?

This you can discuss in the immediate aftermath of the reveal, or even decades after, where the knowledge of the nations is ingrained in the international consciousness. 30, 40 years on, maybe some nations are still unknown and are still in hiding. Others may be full-blown celebrities, by choice or by accident.

Some go onto talk shows. Some do interviews. Some get cameo acting jobs in movies or commercials. Some run incredibly successful instagram, tiktok, or youtube accounts, and some just continue to live their lives as normal with the occasional human recognizing them now and again. 

Do the nations talk publicly about their personal histories? Their deaths? The things they regret? The people they miss most?

Do nations talk about history? Do they consider it unethical to correct humans’ perceptions of history? The interpretation of history is an extremely politically and nationally important subject, and governments will always have an opinion on the matter.

Do nations talk about their relationships with each other? If they do, do they speak of it in broad, diplomatic terms, or do they feel comfortable expressing details of their personal relationships with other nations?

Speaking of, what is the general public's understanding of how the nations are but are not ‘related’ to each other?

4. Nations’ relationship to politics and government post-reveal

Okay, so everyone knows about nations. Are the nations allowed to have political opinions? They’re supposed to represent all the people of their country, is it acceptable for them to express any particular opinion, even if the majority of their citizens agree with them? 

To what extent do governments censor their nations? Are there laws drawn up around this?

How much control do governments have over their nations’ lives? Does the public eye change this?

Are nations allowed to continue working for the government?

Do nations continue to conduct World Meetings in secret, or does it become a well-known international affair?

If something untoward were to happen to a nation, does it become international news? How much or little does the public learn about the nations’ immortality?

You have to know that in democratic governments, individual political parties and/or campaigning candidates would attempt to use their nations as a way to garner support. Even if the nation detests the party/candidate, everyone wants their nation to support their party. How do the nations deal with this pressure?

5. Nations’ relationships to each other in a post-reveal world

In a world where a lot of nations are practically celebrities, while some are still in hiding, how does this affect their relationships?

Would those in hiding avoid spending time with those who are famous, to protect their privacy?

How do well-known nations who are good friends with each other deal with public speculation on their relationship[s]? How do they deal with this speculation from government personnel and politicians?

Are the nations’ international travel plans monitored? How does this affect how they interact with each other?

Anyway, those are just some rambling thoughts I have. Maybe one day I’ll write a few snippets in this AU. I have a general idea of how the world might work in this AU, but have no desire to write a long fic about it. But maybe a oneshot here, a oneshot there. We’ll see what I have time for.

I hope that helps you- er, your friend. ;)

#aph america #aph canada #they're the only ones i mention by name #hetalia #hws america #hws canada #nations revealed #public au #hc #headcanon #maybe I'll write more someday

[liltaz-asatreat]

💖, 😈, 📝, and ⏰ :O?? -ise

Link to the fanfic ask list here!

💖 What do you like most about your own writing?

I think another thing I like most about my own writing is how it resonates with people, and how people get excited to read some of the stuff I write. I get really excited when people say how my writing has affected them whether it's as simple as they liked it to it gave them a genuine emotional response. I've always wanted to have a way to make an impact on other people, and the best way I know how is by connecting with people through stories and poems, and I'm so happy when I know it's working. That's also why I love getting writing requests. I'm touched when people seek me out for another connection (although right now I'm cool with my inbox being empty lol Sometimes I need time to write some of my own ideas too 💜 But look out for a new prompt list here soon 👀)

😈 Is there anything you enjoy doing that you think your readers hate?

I can't think of what else I enjoy doing that I think readers hate except my steady flow of angst/whump/feels, and I've covered that in this post here lol

📝 What is one growth area you have for your writing?

Definitely voices lol I've always struggled with staying in character and giving each character a unique voice in both fanfiction and original writing. I always get so surprised when someone comments how much I've nailed the characters' voices and when someone compliments my characterization of them lol I always question myself about whether something is in character or not, and all of the voices of all of the characters sound the same to me no matter what I write. I do think I do better at it in some fics than others, but the only fic I've written so far that I wasn't caught by complete surprise by someone commenting on how much I nailed a character's voice is A Chance Meeting and Budding Friendship. I relistened to the first arc and a half of Amnesty before I wrote the fic, and Ned and Duck's voices are distinct and easily enough to parse for me that I was able to keep in character for them long enough to finish the short fic. (It also helped that I set the scene as something parallel to a scene that actually happened in the podcast lol) I'm really proud of that fic for that reason (and it was also the first writing request I had ever gotten)

⏰ Do you spend more time reading fic, writing fic, or do you do both equally?

I think it depends. There are times where I spend most of my time writing, and then there are times where I spend most of my time reading. I think lately though I've been doing a lot more writing than reading, but I also went through a lot of writing requests in a row and then I started getting what the cool kids call A Depression Cycle^TM again, and tbh, I really need to actually get off tumblr and do some important adulting stuff 🙁 (I did do some important stuff today though, so that's a start! :D )

#thank you for the ask!!! #Gab gabs

[petroltogo]

Hello! Im not sure if asks are allowed? I didnt see anything about it (I didnt scroll that far.) but people doing requests.

I just wanted to say I read ur superhero AU and Im in love with it! Im intimated by your writing (Im trying to make something in the fandom-soon, hopefully) cuz like, its so amazing?? I also admire it, and aspire to get to get to that level one day!

I wanted to say thank you for writing it. I dont really read anything Varia related, and rarely 10th gen (Im mostly into the arco)! And also, any tips for writing? Writing in the khr world? Thank you for taking the time to read this, and Im sorry if Im intruding on ya, homie. Please have a pleasant day!

First of all, you’re not intruding, I love getting asks!! Asks are allowed, welcome and actively encouraged [unless it’s just to spew pointless hate, in which case it’s blocked] and thank you so much for sending me one! And for your super sweet words, I’m glad you enjoyed the super AU so thank you for letting me know and for the ego boost lol

Posting something you’ve written is a scary experience -- I’ve been doing it for years and I still keep second-guessing myself and putting things off and deciding not to write a fic idea because why would anyone want to read that, right? And that goes doubly so for any fandoms I haven’t written in before and established a ground-floor level confidence to build on. But it still gets easier the more often I do it. Moreover I’m not forcing anyone to read it, I’m just offering my fics up for anyone who’s interested in the fandom and wants to take a closer look.

And if more and more people keep on creating things in any one fandom, that means there’s more and more content to choose from for everyone. Which means we all win because we have more fics to read, more art to marvel at, more videos to watch, more whatever it is you wanna do -- we all have more of it to choose from, and with every person that joins in, the chance of any one of us finding exactly the kind of content they’re looking for increases.

So. I hope you will try your hand at creating and that you’ll find the courage to publish it if you’re comfortable with that. I wish you all the self-doubt-silencer in the world [ignore those voices, ignore them like I used to ignore my french homework!] because I guarantee you: Someone is gonna love what you make.

That said, to be completely honest [this could’ve been] a villain’s origin story is the first time I’ve played in the KHR world, so I’m not sure how helpful I’ll be since I’m not actually that familiar with the fandom. But in my experience the most important thing is just to have a story in mind that you want to share and to write the names of the characters correctly -- [on an unrelated note, I’m so sorry Kyoko but I’m still not sure how to spell yours] -- because at the end of the day, writing fanfic to me means sharing your perspective on the characters, your interpretation of them with the world.

And some people will decide it doesn’t align with their own views and will shrug and move on and some will fall in love with it because it will resonate with them or make them rethink the character or give them an insight they’ve never considered. I think that’s one of the most beautiful parts of fandom tbh.

Writing, hm, what can I tell you about writing. This is actually really tricky because I don’t know what type of story you’re trying to write so if there’s something specific you struggle with, feel free to drop me another ask!

But in general I’m a very character-oriented writer [as the super AU probably illustrates] so my tip is to always make your character’s voices count. Whether you write in first POV or in third POV, as long as it’s from the perspective of a specific character always use that too your full advantage. Use the limits that POV defines, use what the characters don’t know -- whether your audience knows or doesn’t know doesn’t matter -- to your advantage. 

For example: A conversation between Reborn and Skull in their early arcobaleno days. Reborn’s side of things might be full of double-meanings and hidden messages that he’s trying to get across while probing the cloud for the same sort of information and interpreting Skull’s expressions and reactions [in ways that may not be correct] because he’s mafia. Skull might take the exact same conversation at face value. He might miss all the implications, accidentally give Reborn the wrong impression about 23 random things and not notice and that single interaction could set the tone for their entire relationship going forward.

[Focusing on the limits of a character’s POV also helps keep interactions more realistic in my experience. Because when we interact with people, we don’t actually know what’s going on in their minds but as the authors writing that scene we do. The characters don’t and reflecting that in their interactions makes them seem realer and gives their personality (especially their personal biases and blinders and interpretations) more chance to shine through.]

And btw I don’t mean turn every conversation into a misunderstanding. Drama can be fun but it doesn’t always have to be about drama. I think of it more along the lines of “no two people ever read the same book”: No two people experience the exact same conversation or event the exact same way. That doesn’t mean we misunderstand each other daily, at least not necessarily. 

But there’s always things about an interaction with our friends/family/random strangers that we’ll forget or that we meant in a different way than what they take it for and sometimes we notice that while talking and sometimes we don’t. That’s how it can work with characters too: not every different perception has big repercussions or leads to an argument or whatever. Sometimes you can just use that to highlight that your characters are different people with different experiences [Skull is really a great example in this case and so are Colonnello and Lal Mirch vs the “true” mafia members but also maybe how being a mist might color your perception of reality vs being a sun etc.] and that those different backgrounds affect how they perceive and act and justify their behaviors.

Okay, I’m gonna stop here because this could go on for a while and I’m not even sure that’s what you’re looking for, but I hope it helps! [If it doesn’t, let me know if there’s other aspects of writing where I could help.] Happy weekend and (hopefully) happy writing!

#ReRe answers #doingthefrickfrackwithyouknowwho #long post #i couldn't stop rambling #as in you shouldn't get me started on writing #because i can write about writing literally all day long #writing #writing povs #writing tips #ReRe tries advice #jury is still out on whether or not she succeeds #why do I keep talking about myself in 3rd person in these tags is the question we should all ask ourselves