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seventh-district · 3 months

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This Evening I Will Not Forget

“I jumped into the fray with the intention of helping you and next thing I know I’m standing there uselessly watching the first person I’ve dared to love in two fucking centuries take a warhammer to the stomach!”

He turned to face you as he emphasized his last few words, now standing all but frozen in the middle of the tent with his hands held out, gesturing toward your injury. You’re about to pipe up and insist that it wasn’t his fault, but the words dissipate before you can speak them as another part of his sentence echoes in your mind. You repeat them back to him in a disbelieving whisper.

“The first person you’ve dared to love?”

His tense, frustrated expression instantly falls flat.

“I didn’t say that.”

An injury and an argument lead to you revealing far more of yourself and your unspoken past to Astarion than you planned to.

Pairing: Astarion x Reader

Word Count: 3,292

Content Warnings: [injured Reader] (not graphically described, just mentions of bruising and pain) [mean/avoidant Astarion] [argument] [mentions of Reader's scars & non-specific allusion to their Tragic Backstory™] [vulnerability] [possibly (probably) OOC Astarion]

Author's Note: This is an excerpt from my fic An Evening I Will Not Forget, but can be read as a standalone one-shot. The only context I think you'll need is that this fic is written in the style of reliving memories, hence certain lines will mention Reader "looking back" on them.

“What's important is this evenin' I will not forget

Purple, blue, orange, red

These colors of feelin'

Give me love, I'll put my heart in it”

You’re lying on your back as cold, pale fingers press against your sensitive skin, pulling a small pained sound of protest from you.

“Sorry, sorry…”

Astarion retracts his hand, fingers curling into his palm. You reach out to catch hold of him before he can completely pull away, your voice tense with pain as you reassure him.

“No- no... don’t be. I know you’re just trying to help.”

You bring his hand back toward your exposed stomach, his fingers still coated in the healing salve he was attempting to apply. His hand hovers hesitantly over your bruised and broken skin.

“Yes, but- I’m not very good at it.”

Your thumb brushes across his wrist as you hold onto him, suspecting that if you let go he’d just retract his hand again.

“What do you mean? Of course you are.”

He shakes his head insistently.

“No. It seems like every time I try to help you, I just end up hurting you even more…”

Confusion is clear both in your voice and on your features.

“That’s not… that’s not true, Star.”

You tug lightly on his wrist to get his attention, your voice soft as you ask him a question.

“Is this about what happened today?”

He pulls his hand out of your loose hold and you let him, watching as he stands and begins pacing circles inside the tent.

“No, I’m in a bad mood because the weather isn’t quite to my liking- of course it’s about what happened today!”

The initial sarcasm in his voice gave way to frustration near the end. Not with you, but with himself.

Now that you’re observing this memory from his perspective as well, you can see the moment you sustained the injury playing over and over again in his mind, working him up further and further.

“The first person you’ve dared to love?”

His tense, frustrated expression instantly falls flat.

“I didn’t say that.”

Your eyes widen, nodding slowly.

“Yes you did.”

Nervous laughter escapes him as he takes a step back, distancing himself from you.

“No, no, you… you must have heard me wrong. I didn’t- I was talking about helping you, I didn’t say anything about love, what’s love got to do with this?”

You hate to push him, fearing he may bolt like a frightened deer if you double down, but you know what you heard. It wasn’t like the first time you heard him say it, slapping it on the end of a string of pick-up lines, the word obviously carrying no weight, no truth. No, this second time was different.

“I think it has more to do with it than you’re willing to admit, Astarion.”

He falters, one of very few times you’ve seen him truly caught off guard, truly speechless.

“Those are…” He searches for something to say that’ll cover up the truth that’d just spilled out of him. “...bold words for someone currently bedridden.”

You bark a laugh and it turns into a low groan at the pain it causes to flare in your lower ribs.

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

If he’s being honest, even he’s hardly sure what he meant. He’s truly floundering here, for the first time in… forever.

“It means… it means that I can walk away from this conversation right now and there isn’t anything you can do about it.”

Stooping so low as to resort to childish threats, you can feel the embarrassment radiating off of him.

“Would you truly be so cruel as to do that to me right now? Walking away, leaving me vulnerable and confused just because you can’t handle the truth?”

You’re pushing your luck too far and you know it. Surprisingly, though, he takes one step toward you, moving away from the exit.

“Cruel?! If you think that me simply walking away from you counts as cruelty then you truly haven’t suffered enough.”

His words are suddenly laced with venom and they hit you harder than the barbarian’s warhammer did today, leaving a chill colder than ice in their wake.

He seems to actually hear what he said a moment later, the careless words ricocheting off of you and coming back to slam into his chest, nearly knocking him over and crushing him beneath the weight of his sudden regret.

A furious wave of heat and adrenaline courses through you as you bolt upright in the makeshift bed, ignoring the sharp pain that flares inside you in response to the sudden movement. Reaching down and grabbing at the tail of your shirt where it’s bunched up around your ribs, you hastily yank it up over your shoulders and head, tugging your arms out of the long sleeves and furiously tossing the garment directly at him.

“Suffered enough? You think I haven’t fucking suffered enough, Astarion? You don’t know the goddamned HALF of it! You’re not the only one in this tent that’s been abused, you know?! Oh wait- that’s right- you DON’T!”

Your voice cracks under the pressure of volume and emotion as fat, hot, angry tears roll down your cheeks against your will. Astarion stands there like a deer in the headlamps, your balled-up shirt having hit him softly in the chest and fallen anticlimactically to the ground. As his eyes rake over your heavily scarred arms, the angry purple markings showing no signs of lessening as they curl over your shoulders and disappear behind your back, it suddenly starts to make a lot more sense why you were so damned insistent that no one remove your clothes while treating your wounds earlier.

Shadowheart rips open the flap covering the tent’s exit, a very concerned looking Halsin ducking down behind her. Part of you is grateful that at least not everyone was currently at camp to witness your sudden breakdown, but even the sight of the two of them is enough to have you panicking. Pulling at the blanket gathered around your waist and shouting in an admittedly very childish, vulnerable voice, you demand they leave as you choke on your tears, hastily covering yourself up.

“GET OUT!”

Unsure of what to do, Shadowheart surveys the scene before her with a critical eye before sighing, seeming to understand that the best thing they can do right now is give you back your privacy. She knows that if you needed her, you would call. Turning to shoo away the concerned man behind her, she lowers the flap back down with a quiet murmur of “They’re… fine. Let’s give them some space.”

Astarion finally breaks free from where he’s been stood like a statue, slowly moving toward the exit as well with an unsure glance in your direction.

You bury your face into the fabric clutched in your hands, shouting into it in exasperation.

“NOT YOU!”

He freezes, no longer knowing what to do but wishing that the ground would simply open up and swallow him whole. Back under six feet of soil feels like where he deserves to be after what he just said to you.

He racks his brain for the right thing to say, coming up empty handed and eventually deciding that honesty might just be the best policy in this situation.

“I… I’m going to level with you. I have no idea what to do right now.”

In spite of it all, you laugh, a broken sound that cuts through your tears, causing you to cough, then the strain from coughing causes more tears to fall. Though he can’t admit it, Astarion knows right then and there that he never wants to hear or see you in such pain ever again.

“I… I’ll level with you, too.”

You pull the blanket away from your face, looking at him with watery, bloodshot eyes.

“...Neither do I.”

You glance down at the floor, attempting a deep breath and failing spectacularly as another broken sob escapes you. Dropping the fabric still held up against your chest, you press your hands down into the bedroll beneath you in an attempt to support your upper body and ease the pain radiating through your core.

Astarion takes one cautious step toward you, his unsteady voice the only thing filling the silence aside from your soft crying.

“I need… to apologize. For everything.”

You shake your head in disagreement and clear your throat.

“No, you don’t. You’ve been through a worse hell than I could ever even imagine. It’s… stupid of me to try and compete with you in that regard.”

He takes another step forward, insistent.

“That isn’t true. You have… clearly been through your own hell, and it was… stupid of me to assume you hadn’t. Even worse of me to try and downplay my avoidance by… holding my past over you like some sort of… like some sort of excuse.”

You shift your weight to the side in order to lift one hand, reaching out to grab at one of the small cloths stacked beside your bed. Astarion sees you struggling to reach them and rushes forward, closing what remained of the space he’d put between you as he lifted a cloth and handed it to you without a word.

You bring it to your face, pressing it to your eyes in a useless attempt to dry the tears that were still falling. Then, moving it down to blow your running nose into the cloth before you could make an even bigger mess of yourself than you already were. Finally able to breathe a bit better, you counter his point.

“Yeah, but- the thing is, I feel like you kinda have the right to do that, given all that you’ve survived. Of course you’d see the pain of walking away from a conversation as trivial when you compare it to… literally anything you’ve experienced.”

Now that he’s returned to your side, Astarion’s head angles to drag his gaze across your exposed back, finally seeing the full extent of your scarring as you lean forward a bit to toss the dirty cloth to the floor of the tent next to your shirt. Nausea swirls deep in the pit of his stomach as the upsetting sight of your marred skin burns itself into his memory.

“I believe… that’s called a double standard.”

You throw him a sad, confused look, and he explains.

“You’re trying to give me some sort of… free pass based on what I’ve been through, but I’ve never once seen you give yourself that same sort of leniency.”

“That’s… not the same thing.”

“I’m not saying we’ve been through the exact same thing, but…” He gestures vaguely to the entirety of you. “...clearly you’ve gone through something. If I get to lord my baggage over you then surely you’re permitted to do the same.”

Your tears begin to slow as you consider his words.

“I don’t… want to do that, though. Obviously. That’s why I haven’t told you. I don’t want you giving me special treatment because ‘poor pitiful me’ has gone through some shit. I don’t think that excuses any of my current behavior.”

The silence hangs in the air for a moment before he gently drives his point home.

“Yet you think it excuses mine?”

Hm.

“...okay. I guess you’ve got me there.”

You sigh, body beginning to feel heavier than lead as the sudden rush of emotion and adrenaline fades from you. You ease yourself back down, hissing at the pain as your bruised ribs and torn muscles protest the stretch and movement. Astarion wants to assist but truth be told he’s afraid to touch you. So, he watches on helplessly, still berating himself in the back of his mind for the role he feels he played in you sustaining today’s injuries to begin with.

Once you’re laid down and relaxing into the bedroll as much as you can, you make no effort to cover yourself up, not caring how long his eyes wander across your exposed skin. Silently, he tries to read the countless jagged lines and dots carved into you like they may eventually come together to paint him a picture of all that’s happened to you.

No picture anyone could paint would ever do the pain justice.

He settles himself down next to you as your tired eyes stare a hole in the ceiling of the tent.

“You do not have to accept my apology, but I will not rescind it. I do have the wherewithal to know that what I said was wrong. It was cruel. I…”

He exhales, the heavy sound full of the weight carried by a man that hasn’t been this honest with anyone in centuries.

“I… tossed aside any consideration for how you may have felt, letting myself get lost in my own… stupid fears. It wasn’t right. It certainly wasn’t fair to you.”

Your head lolls to the side, appraising him with lidded eyes.

“You know… you’re surprisingly self-aware when you aren’t being a pompous ass.”

Your words draw a surprised laugh out of him and after a moment of consideration, he nods slowly in reluctant agreement.

“I’ve… had a lot of time to sit with myself and think. Eventually you get to know yourself pretty well.”

He looks down, idly picking at the loose threads on the edge of your well-worn bedroll.

“All of that self-awareness apparently doesn’t make me any kinder though, does it?”

It’s a rhetorical question but you answer it all the same.

“I still stand by my statement that you have good reason to be so… abrasive. Just being aware of those reasons doesn’t mean that they suddenly don’t affect you any more.”

Your hand raises from where it laid lifelessly beside you, reaching over for Astarion’s and pulling his anxious fingers away from attacking the weak points of your bedroll. You don’t release his hand once you direct him away from the loose threads, holding onto him as you continue to muse aloud.

“I think that a lot of us are just doing our best to not allow our past to affect our present, to varying degrees of success. Sometimes we fail. But- I believe all that truly matters at the end of the day is that we’re trying, though. … And, Astarion?”

“...yes?”

“I can tell that you’re trying.” You squeeze his hand. “And I accept your apology.”

You take a slow, deep breath, and listen as his voice comes out softer than you’ve ever heard it.

“Thank you.”

You nod your head in a silent “of course,” laying in thoughtful silence for a few moments before speaking.

“I… feel like I should apologize as well.”

Now it’s Astarion’s turn to be confused.

“What ever for?”

You weakly raise your other hand to gesture all around the room.

“Just… this. The scene I just made. Heaping all of this emotion onto you when you were obviously already struggling with how you felt about me in the first place.”

He doesn’t take long to respond.

“No, I don’t think you need to apologize for that. This… seems like it really needed to come out. I could never be upset with you for sharing it with me, regardless of the… unideal circumstances.”

He then seems to realize something.

“I hope you don’t regret it, though. Sharing this with me.”

You shake your head decisively and the motion causes your impending headache to flare.

“No. I don’t. I- uh- you were going to find out eventually with how… close we’ve been getting. I just couldn’t find the right time to tell you- or- well, show you, I guess.”

Your hand releases its hold on his, reaching up to carefully brush your fingertips across the mottled skin of your stomach. You raise your head up, angling it down to look down at the injury with a thoughtful gaze. Glancing over toward Astarion, you ask him another question.

“Can you hand me that salve from earlier? It never really… got fully applied.”

He immediately reaches behind him for the container, but holds it in his grasp as he stumbles over his words.

“I- I, uhm… wouldn’t mind trying again, if you want me to. If you don’t I’ll understand, though. Just… want you to know that the offer is still there.”

Your eyebrows raise in surprise, but you’re completely willing to let him do it.

“Oh… sure? You’re welcome to, I just… assumed you wouldn’t want to.”

He holds his other hand up and only then do you realize he never wiped the salve from his skin.

“These fingers are numb already anyways, might as well spare yours the same fate.”

You vaguely remember Shadowheart’s words as she passed Astarion the container earlier, cautioning him to not leave it for long on any skin he didn’t want to temporarily lose feeling in.

“But hey, at least we know that it works now, right?”

You give him a tired smile, appreciative of his efforts to lighten the mood.

“Mmm, I suppose so.”

You pull your hand away, exposing your injury to him once again.

“Have at me, then.”

With your permission, he sweeps a scoop of the healing and numbing mixture across your sensitive skin and you notice how feather-light he keeps his touch this time. Looking down to observe his work, you note how the messy mixture of the massive bruise’s dark colors stand in stark contrast to his pale white fingers that brush across it.

A thought slips out of your exhausted mind.

“Pretty…”

His eyes flick up to meet yours, unsure if he heard you correctly.

“Hmm?”

“The colors. They’re pretty. Purple, blue, even kinda orange…”

You look away from the bruise and up into his ruby eyes.

“...red.”

He’s silent for a moment, his hand pausing its gentle motion. Then he scoffs, looking away and internally dismissing your words as the ramblings of a tired mind.

“You’re talking nonsense, dear.”

Your filter has all but completely vanished, feeling almost drunk on your current mixture of exhaustion and relief after such a hell of a day. Sleep beckons you and your eyes fall closed as the pain in your ribs fades, on its way to being numbed out by the potent salve. A hazy thought surfaces, reminding you to give your thanks to Shadowheart when you next awake. For now though, you relax, no thought given to the words that slip from your lips.

“But you love my nonsense, don’t you…”

His heart feels like it jumps in his chest as he hears you so casually speak the word that he’s still reluctant to even think to himself, let alone say aloud. As he finishes massaging the salve into your skin and pulls his hand back, his eyes pass over the expansive unspoken history of pain evidently etched into your skin, up across your chest, over your shoulders and down your arms. He figures the least he can do is answer you honestly before sleep pulls you under.

“I… suppose I do.”

End Notes: If you'd like to read my commentary on this scene, you can find that in the end notes of Ch. 5 on AO3 - right here!

Header Image Source: x

#astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion fic #astarion fanfic #astarion fanfiction #my writing #eheheee my attempt at baiting more people into reading my fic by posting parts of it as oneshots on Tumblr has begun /hj #i'm only half joking tho cause yeah while getting more eyes on the full fic would be a nice side effect if the oneshots do well on here #i also just want to give my favorite parts of the fic that i feel can stand on their own a chance at a second life here on Tumblr #regardless of whether that brings more people in to read the full fic or not

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abyssruler · 3 months

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i have a question for my fellow writers that i’m curious about

#the work in question doesn’t have to be published #i myself read my work whenever i get a really nice long comment #it’s like i need to verify with my own eyes that what the commenter says is true and that my fic really is that good #it also helps that i have shit memory so after some time i forget i even wrote it #so when i come back it’s like reading an entire fic catered to my tastes #bc yes i follow that write what you want to read rule #writing #fanfiction #fanfics #ao3 #archive of our own

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peblezq · 1 year

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I had such whiplash today

I recently got back into reading Stucky fanfic again and was browsing ye olde ao3 and stumbled on this great 21 jump street AU where Steve and Bucky are undercover cops in a high school. It was incomplete before it can even get to the good stuff. But the setup was so well done that I was enthralled and then utterly distraught when I realized it hadn't been updated since 2020...

Then I saw the user profile and realized.... oh shit. I wrote this.

TL DR; I bamboozled myself. I was the villain all along

#i have the entire fic outlined too #so like theoretically i could simply continue where I left off #but i am also working on a house md/supernatural crossover #and the sequel to my book series published on amazon #but like sure #i might update it again just because i actually really enjoy what ive written so far #its really nice reading my old writing #having forgotten that i even wrote it in the first place #it hits different #stucky #marvel #steve rogers #bucky barnes #marvel au #21 jump street #au fanfiction #ao3 #fanfic writer problems #pebs rambles

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pastafossa · 8 months

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I had a hilarious TRT-related hiccup earlier today when I was seeing a museum with a friend who was in the area.

So we met up, and she and her partner hop into my car. Naturally, I have some music playing softly in the background, specifically the official TRT playlist cause I wasn't thinking and had Matt and Jane on the brain. And after a few songs, as we're driving to the museum and chatting, she, in clearly somewhat puzzled tone, is like, 'what is this you're listening to?' because there's a really random assortment of styles on there thanks to recs from me, all ya'll, my sis, and spotify itself.

And my brain... stalls.

Because these people in the car are Friends but not Fanfic Friends and neither of them even know what fanfiction is. And any explanation will potentially launch a cascading wave of further fanfic explanations until I'm eventually discussing Star Trek slash back in Ye Olden Fandom Times (TM) or knowing me going further back to Dante's Divine Comedy in the 1300s, which was not a powerpoint presentation we had time for. Yet, 'yes this is a 9 hour playlist put together by me and a bunch of readers of my stuff, and by stuff I mean a really long free story I've written based on a tv show simply because I am obsessed, no I do not know all of them personally but we all talk regularly and they bring me songs for the fic sometimes like cats laying birds at the feet of their humans only instead of feeling shock and horror I am delighted and have collected them for the past 3 years and that is why my playlist is gloriously broad in style and scope' is also likely to launch us into explanations we do not have time for. Lying never occurs to me.

"Um. Uh. This is... It's... some... friends who read some of my online work and made a playlist about it."

Her, in the tone that says she knows I'm full of shit and keeping an entire novel series of information to myself: "Oh. That sounds nice."

Nailed it.

You're all my friends now, it's official.

#the red thread #you can't get me talking about fanfiction because then i'm going to turn it into a presentation #and that car ride was 8 minutes long we did not have time for my dissertation #which would have led to explanations of fanfic as well as why i have for now written 900k words and am headed to 1 mill #and also likely her asking 'are you ok' as i froth wildly about matt murdock and what he means to me #but also about LOVING ALL YA'LL and the ART and the MUSIC and then general segue into my love for the creative community #that is twined into fandom itself #WE. DO. NOT. HAVE. TIME.#so instead you were all just a couple friends who read a lil thing of mine and made me a nice lil playlist that is somehow 9 hours long #FUN FACT THE AVERAGE READ TIME FOR TRT IS 37 HOURS AND SO THE PLAYLIST WILL BE WITH YOU FOR 24% OF IT BEFORE LOOPING

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sssammich · 7 months

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hello i wrote some fics

my writing shenanigans. links default to ao3 for most of them, with some tumblr posts sprinkled in (like, if i haven't gotten around to posting on ao3, for example).

supergirl: not for nothing, 4/4 complete. kara/lena. lena finds out kara is supergirl, they have a fall out, and then kara loses her powers indefinitely.

one way or another, oneshot, complete. kara/lena; kara and lena meet on the subway

evergreen, oneshot, complete. kara/lena; lena meets kara later in life

snapshots of superreigncorp, ongoing. kara/lena/sam; in collaboration with chaoticsuper; all three women go on a date

sam's supercorptober 2023 entries, 7/7 complete. kara/lena; for supercorptober 2023

tumblr post roundup crepe AU: part 1 | part 2 | part 3 day 19: hazy, day 22: art, day 24: enchanted, day 30: magic

collateral; ongoing. kara/lena, kara/andrea, lena/jack; kara is in love with lena, lena got married to jack, and andrea somehow clocks kara's feelings from the jump. then, you know, life happens.

samficlet: in pursuit of calm. oneshot. lena/kelly; kelly is in town and back from her deployment. lena processes. (tumblr post)

you've got mail; oneshot, complete. kara/lena; lena and kara are neighbors and someone's mail gets delivered to the wrong apartment NSFW

come what may. 3/3 complete. kara/lena; post-rift healing times or something like that. there's dancing. part 1 | part 2 (tumblr post)

let there be another day: oneshot, complete. kara/lena; 6 months after lena breaks up with kara to keep her safe. (tumblr post)

there's a human in the storeroom; ongoing. kara/lena and lena's friendgroup shenanigans; in collaboration with sideguitars. fae!au, basically. post 1 | post 2 (tumblr post)

samficlet: soak up the warmth. oneshot. kara/lena. lena luthor and her sad yet hopeful introspective vibes while kara is in the phantom zone (tumblr post)

bumbleby: homecoming; 3/3 complete. blake/yang. blake and yang reunite after ten years.

heart's devastation; oneshot, complete. 4+1 airport fic

swan queen: it ends or it doesn't; 3/3 complete. emma/regina. emma and regina drive to new york to retrieve henry's passport. and then truths are revealed.

rituals; ongoing. emma/regina. emma stays at regina's house for a time and a breakfast routine is established ch 1 | ch 2 | ch 3

a change of scenery; oneshot. complete. emma/regina. emma gets a haircut

feel free to send me prompts, but i make no promises only so that i don't let you down lol but if it strikes my fancy, i usually try to fill it! thanks in advance for those.

link to my other fics (of which there are plenty and span many years and random fandoms, if you so wished to explore.)

thanks again x

#samfic #supercorp #swan queen #bumbleby #my fanfiction #i'm literally just doing this so i can pin this post #but also it doesn't hurt to advertise LOL #ok thats all thank you for reading and leaving nice comments and all that stuff #yall have been very nice to me #the superior guardiancorp

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unexpectedgeese · 17 days

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I love you kudos I love you second kudos I love you keysmash comments I love you ‘<3’ I love you guest accounts I love you worldbuilding questions I love you comment spam from new readers I love you bookmarks with summaries of the plot I love you ‘to read’ I love you ‘fave’ I love you Artists who draw scenes from the fic I love you discord proofreaders I love you beta readers I love you Inbox (1)!!!!! You are the beating heart of the Ao3 community and the world is better with you in it!!!

#my posts #Ao3 #Ao3 comment appreciation #fandom #fanfiction #meta posts #fanfic #archive of our own #just leave a comment fest #my favorite compliment I've ever recieved was a bookmark #that just said 'fascinating'.#idk something about the knowledge that a person read my work and liked it so much they felt the need to note that down #not for me not for anyone but themselves... it gets to me man #also this post isn't a dig at lurkers ily too #but if you don't usually engage with the stories you like consider starting to do that #comments are easy to leave and there's nothing quite like the feeling of the author replying to you #next time you read something good leave a comment for me. nothing big if that's scary just like #good fic #or #the worldbuilding is cool #or like #im reading this at 3am and i love it #little things #they make the author's day and it feels really nice to be a part of something

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unopenablebox · 2 days

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i feel like once a month i go to sign up for a fic exchange, cheerfully put together three or four things i want to write for, realize that i have absolutely no desire to have someone write fic for me whatsoever, and take so long hoping i'll come up with three fandoms i expect to find bearable that the signup window times out

#i enjoy fanfiction. i read fanfiction in many domains #however i have approximately no expectation that a fic written for me in an exchange will be good. because. literally who knows #so instead i search for something so inoffensive that i am 100% confident i can write a nice comment about it #freeze up when i remember i'm supposed to produce a hundred words apiece of genuine enthusiasm about every fandom i request #and retire from the field defeated.#dickish? oh certainly. without question.#no one's ever written me a BAD fic for an exchange. but i live in fear #also the fact that most exchanges you request on ships rather than characters is also. difficult for me #not that i don't ship or write ships per se #it just comes with a certain implied weight of expectation on the part of the nominee #that i'll do something nice and normal. and what if someday i cannot.#box opener #text box

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sophieswundergarten · 3 months

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#Holy cow #I found my first forgotten attempt at fanfiction the other day #AND I WROTE IT IN FIRST PERSON #I'm gagging over whatever on earth this abomination is #(It's not MBS in case anyone's wondering)#I just kind of forgot I had this hidden somewhere #But it's kind of nice to see how much I've improved in the last couple of years #SUCH AS REALISING THAT FIRST PERSON IS A GARBAGE WAY TO WRITE #Not that I think anyone who does that is bad #I just don't like it for my own writing #But man was that weird #I see now why you guys do these nothing posts with rambles in the tags #It's kind of nice to have a release #I need to write more about Sticky #I want to #But it's on the list with my Cannonball fic and Wolf 359 ideas and also that Enlil fic I'm supposed to be working on right now #Yeesh Sophie chill out #Okay.#I'm going to take a deep breath now #Sorry to anyone who read this #Love you #I hope you're having a good day #rambles

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girderednerve · 1 month

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reading/listening to a book again, this time it's 'blood runs coal'

yes that's the book that they are supposedly going to adapt to star cillian murphy. it's about the murder of jock yablonski & his family. if you are unfamiliar, jock yablonski ran as a reform candidate in the UMWA in 1969, and was murdered along with his wife & daughter as the result of a conspiracy by the UMWA president, tony boyle. yablonski ran on a platform of union democracy & transparency, improved workplace safety (especially regarding black lung), increased pension benefits, & a more adversarial relationship with coal operators. the UMWA at this point was deeply, aggressively corrupt & its leadership often employed violence. in the early twentieth century, under the charismatic & tyrannical leadership of john l. lewis, UMWA was one of the most active & successful labor unions in the country, & it was one of the first to integrate. by the middle of the century, it had settled into a collaborative relationship with mine owners. blood runs coal opens with, of course, a detailed & horrifying description of the 1968 farmington mine disaster, in which 78 miners died on the job in a horrific underground explosion. boyle showed up to say it was unavoidable & to commend the company's safety record; need it be said, the disaster was not unavoidable & the company did not, in fact, have a commendable safety record, &, moreover, he made the speech to widows with 78 members of his union in pieces or suffocated to death on the job. farmington kicked off a huge pivot in labor organizing in appalachia, & was one of the catalysts of the black lung insurgency. which matters deeply, on its own & in connection with jock yablonski's legacy—arnold miller, the reform candidate who took the presidency in 1972 after the corrupt election jock yablonski lost & was murdered for, was one of the leaders of the black lung movement & a black lung sufferer himself.

anyway so far it's a pretty good book! i don't really care for true crime as a rule (ghoulish) & i am taking this book more as microhistory; it's still a little interested in crime details for me, &, surprise, i don't think it spends enough time talking about black lung. i'm only halfway through though & so far it has focused fairly tightly on its major characters (tony boyle, jock yablonski, yablonski's murderers), & i suspect the back half will spend more time on the broader labor context. this is not the order i would have gone in, but then i don't care about selling books to true crime enjoyers i care about black lung & labor history, & the broader context of labor organizing has not really been present in this book. i have been thinking a lot about what an active, engaged union can do & to some degree what it can't, which is interesting.

interested in your thoughts if you have read this book, or please feel free to recommend me a labor history book!!

#i can't read anything but fanfiction & essays with my eyes but i have been 'reading' a lot on my commute. so that's nice i guess #continualy upset about how recent this history is - how present. thinking also about the ongoing impoverishment of coal communities #no one should work in coal! we desperately need to leave that stuff in the ground! the industry is smaller & the workforce deunionized #so it's very unsafe & there is STILL no pathway to transitioning to more sustainable industry so people who live there can like. live #the next biggest industry in west virginia is fucking logging lmao. it's awful

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tommysm0ondust · 3 months

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wrote a fanfic guys!! well, the first chapter of it.

it's a teen wolf time travel fic starring my fav duo (and ship) Stiles and Derek!!!

I can't rly find any time travel fics in the fandom that I like so I just wrote my own💥💥💥

hope ppl like it‼️‼️‼️‼️

https://archiveofourown.org/works/53780710

teehee

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musingsofmyown · 2 years

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Genuine

"Sherlock," John locked eyes with the detective,"you are bloody gorgeous."

A very prominent blush crept up the other's neck,"I-I erm…"

"And adorable, look at that,"He leaned forward and smiled. John knew for a fact that he was one of the few people who existed that could actually catch him off guard, and by god this had to be the best way to get those gears in the detective’s head to stop.

Sherlock broke eye contact and tapped nervously on the table,"You're getting too direct with your flirting."

"So you've noticed?"

He nodded and looked around the room, still refusing to look at John,"So- uh, what,” Sherlock cleared his throat, the telltale signs of embarrassment peeking through,”what brought this up?"

"It's just been eating me up for a bit,"He propped his head up on his hands,"And I'd… I’d like to kiss you."

Those few words caused Sherlock's entire system to malfunction, a small sound of shock barely escaped his lips. For a moment, John found it rather endearing that his friend was an actual blushing virgin, but as soon as the spell broke, he wondered what the consultant's response would be,"Me..?"

"Yes, you."

"I have to confess that I do not possess much experience in this area-"

What had once been a quiet morning in the kitchen of 221b ultimately transformed into… this. Not that either of them were complaining, they were finally clearing the tension that held strong between them for years, however… jolting it felt.

"You're a fast learner," His tongue swiped along his bottom lip,"I don't think it would take long for you to pick it up."

"Is that an offer to teach me, Dr. Watson?" he whispered, not trusting himself to keep a steady stream of words in his current state. Said “state” could be summed up as "confused, turned on, and extremely giddy".

The quiet flirt back made John more than happy,"Of course, I'll even do it for free 'cause you're being so cute about it."

The detective huffed, crossing his arms and slumping in his seat,"I am not cute."

"You're proving my point right now. Pouting with those sinful lips of yours."

"I-" at this point, his mind may as well be fried because it felt absolutely useless. Not a single deduction could be made by John's smiling face, only the word 'mine' over and over,"I-I give you… permission."

"Permission?"

"Yes," with a bit more confidence,"I know you're a man of morals, and you wouldn't do anything without explicit consent- so I consent to you."

John stood, making sure not to move too fast, he didn’t want to frighten Sherlock in this exposed mindset,"And you are aware that you can take that consent away at any time?"

A slight nod,"I know."

"Alright," He brought a hand to cup Sherlock's jaw, lifting his thumb to run across his bottom lip,"I have watched these lips for years," John dipped his head down a bit, milimetres away from Sherlock's face,"I always wondered how they would feel on mine."

"Care to find out?" his breath ghosting along John's skin.

"God yes."

Sherlock closed the small gap, lips barely pressed together. It was his first time being so close to someone he loved, and understanding that this was all new to Sherlock, John let him control the pace. It was soft, tentative, tender, they reveled in the intimate contact. They had been craving this for years, and now here they were. The spark that had lingered became a roaring fire, all from a small, genuine kiss.

After a moment, John pulled back, realising that the detective had ceased all effort to function,”Breathe.”

His eyes remained closed as he sucked in a lungful of air,”More please,” Sherlock blinked a few times before sending John the most desperate look he could muster.

“How could I say no to my brilliant detective?”

@helloliriels @fluffbyday-smutbynight @emaster875 @dinner--starving @loki-lock @kettykika78 @mycrofts-umbrella-in-the-tardis @gaylilsherlock @topsyturvy-turtely @colourfulwatson @safedistancefrombeingsmart @kyramaximoff @psychosociogentleman @peanitbear @astudyin221b @justanobsessedpan @thesherlockandjohnshow @icatee @boldlygowhereitsbiggerinside @whatnext2020 @forfucksakejohn

Lemme know if you wanna be taken off the tag list!! And definitely let me know if you wanna be added!

I finally got round to making an actual list for my lil random fics, so please please let me know if you wanna be added/removed because I don't wanna be a pain-

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lexalovesbooks · 4 months

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I remember reading fangirl when I was like thirteen and there being that mini plot thread throughout the novel where for the longest time Cath was too scared to go to her college’s dining hall because she didn’t know how it worked and was terrified she’d accidentally embarrass herself so instead she just spent half a semester eating peanut butter and granola bars until her roommate noticed and forced her to go with her. And that just really stuck with me because even at the time it felt like something I would do and I thought about it for years and years and then when I was finally at college on my own and I knew. that I needed to go to the dining hall and get food and eat but I was scared to do it on my own because I didn’t know the rules and what if I did something wrong or embarrassed myself and I couldn’t even ask my roommate to go with me and make it less scary because I didn’t have a roommate (covid protocol). Anyways Cather Avery most relatable character ever.

#fangirl rainbow rowell #thinking about it and yeah. i had mixed feelings about that book at the time but it was really the first main character that i could #see myself in. every description of cath’s social anxiety felt so familiar to me and it was also the book series that sort of. helped me #understand fanfiction? (before that i disliked it (had never read it) because i had a really incorrect understanding of what it was and why #people wrote it. i didn’t love it after finishing the book but i didn’t despise it anymore either)#anyways. books that probably did change my life a little bit #also i did eventually make it to my dining hall. there was a girl there who i knew from high school and when i mustered up the courage to #text her she was super nice and immediately invited me to have dinner with her. so i didn’t have to live off peanut butter for an entire #semester thankfully lol

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bookwormstarwarsfan · 9 months

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Sometimes randomly at 3 am (like last night lol) I have the sudden really strong urge to translate all fanfics I liked, because I single handedly have to create the Hungarian fandom and also these masterpieces have to exist in the most majestic language humankind have ever known...

Just... why?!

#my suspected adhd would never #also because i'm always cringing at anything i write #but still #it would be nice #personal #fandom #fandom things #fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction reading #translating #hungarian #hungarian language #random thoughts at night #not star wars #or it is in a way

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lesbianlanarcher · 1 year

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just think about it, okay –––

sterling wakes up from his coma, three years of his life gone, he'll never get that back, so he tries not to dwell on it. nor does he wish to dissect his dreams because thinking back to those lives he made up is dangerously close to introspection which he is adamantly against. so, he shifts focus, tries to acclimate himself to whatever his life is now. being alone sucks, sleeping with random women sucks less but that doesn't last, drinking makes him feel worse but he's not ever giving that up for anything. doing everything he used to before is pointless and, plainly, nauseating. he needs people, he’s realised... he needs to feel grounded, needs to hear laughter, needs to be in the centre of a crowded room, needs to feel real again or just feel something again. but he doesn't have many people he can call on to help him out. a stripper isn't gonna solve his problems, bartenders have heard it all before, no one wants to level with him; new york does not care. who's left? his friends, distant colleagues, these people he was forced into a working relationship with all those years ago, the people who have known him the longest, whatever he fuck they are too – they aren't there either.

who does sterling have to help him out when he needs it most? who does his mind go to purely out of instinct? who does he crave when he knows he shouldn’t? who can make him feel both shittier and lift his spirits at the same time? who is unlike anyone else? who will he always want?

“Lana.”

He shouldn’t be doing this.

“I bet you’re busy with that... that... creature.”

But he wants to.

“That bald fuck.”

And he always gets his way.

“Stupid prick.”

He takes a swig of... something. Some random bottle that was hidden right at the back of the drybar because he’s already drowned himself in everything else.

“Or you’re still ignoring my calls.”

It’s been hard adjusting to a life without Woodhouse. Well, it’s been hard adjusting in general. But Woodhouse not being there anymore is the perfectly slick cherry atop the shitheap that is his turd cake of a life. So, it feels apt.

“Which is a shitty thing to do. You know, I just got out of a three-year coma? A coma? You know what one of those are?”

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he knows he deserves everything he gets. He’s stacked up a lot of bad karma, it was bound to catch up to him at some point. He just didn’t expect it to feel so... crushing. And he definitely didn’t think his punishment would be this lonesome either.

“Yeah, you know. You just don’t care.”

He thought everyone would be falling through his apartment door to spend time with him, ask him how it felt to be in a coma, show some form of interest in his return.

“And, I mean, why should you?”

It never came.

“It’s not like, hah, it’s not like we have a child together or anything.”

And from her? Nothing. Not a word. He spewed his guts, heart, lungs, intestines, everything... confessed to her at that gala and... nothing.

“Oh, wait, my mistake. We don’t.”

He tried - fuck - he tried to tell her everything he could. Everything he should have told her the very second he knew she was the only thing in his life that held any sort of value. Everything he was capable of saying without choking on the words, without gagging and wanting to throw up, he said it.

“Because she doesn’t even know me. AJ doesn’t know her father.”

But it wasn’t enough.

“Because you replaced me.”

It might not ever be enough.

“Everyone replaced me. Me.”

His words won’t ever be good enough for her.

“Like I never fucking existed in the first place.”

Words are all he has now, as empty as they may seem. Saying it wasn’t easy. Confronting that part of himself, the part that craves and needs and wants her is akin to torture. And Sterling knows torture well. What he doesn’t know is how he can prove that any more; how he can prove himself to her. He’s wronged her in the past, sure, but that doesn’t take away from the fact he loves her. Can’t she see that? That he fucking adores her. That he would do anything for her, that he would die in less than a heartbeat for her, he would give everything up for her to kiss him again.

“Maybe that’s what you all wanted, though? Maybe me being in a coma was the best thing that ever happened to everyone? Maybe...”

And she’s never said it back to him, not once. Perhaps in her actions, like he’s told her again and again just what she means to him, but she has never told him directly. Never said the words. No one has. Not in a manner that means anything substantial, anyway.

“Maybe you should have just pulled the plug.”

Perhaps no one is capable of showing him that affection he so sorely needs. Katya could have... He thought she might have been the only one to rival Lana, the only other woman who could keep him distracted and occupied, but even that was tainted and turned against him. Like most things. Ruined.

“What was the point of keeping me alive?”

So, he figures he’s not meant for it. To be loved. Not meant to be shown that side of life that comes so, so fucking easy for everyone else.

“If I was gonna come back to this? What was the point, Lana?”

He has wealth in an over-abundance, any woman - or man - he wants he could probably get, and endless supply of liquor. He has it all. Doesn’t he?

“You don’t have to give me any real answers,” He laughs, abruptly and slightly manically, “You probably won’t even listen to this,” then, takes another swig of whatever bottle is dangling limply from his hand, “Good, don’t. Save us both the embarrassment. Right? Just ignore it. Like everything else. Ignore me.”

He doesn’t bother to disconnect the voice message, just tightens his hand around the phone until he can feel the muscles in his arm scream out in pain. Fucking nerve damage. Incensed even more, he hurls the device across the room where it smashes against the wall and falls to the floor, partially shattered.

Another apt metaphor, he thinks, the bottle back to his lips, feverishly sucking from it like he’ll get what he needs when he reaches the bottom and drains it.

The truth is, he never will.

But that doesn’t stop him from trying.

#sterling archer #lana kane #archer fx #archer fxx #lanarcher #oopsie im sorry #just needed to get this out my system #and i may or may not be tipsy rn so i thought fuck it #writing #fanfiction #angst #it's okay i can fix him (by making him worse)#never posted my writing on tumblr before so um be nice ?#also have not edited or read this back at all so ya #fanfic

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