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novelconcepts · 3 years

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I was wondering what do you think about the fanfics, in this fandom, and any other you're part of, where authors take the lazy route and copy paste the characters into things that would have never sit right in the show. Like i see a lot of stuff where people have an idea and paste Dani and Jamie into things that are so fundamentally wrong (for example: Jamie kidnapping Dani. Them hating each other at the beginning etc) i am physically estraining myself not to shoot a message to those authors (who, by the way, write beautifully) and tell them to go read your tags. You break down the show in such a wonderful way. And i know you have already commented more than once about not reading fics. But still i was wondering

So....this is probably not going to be the answer you’re looking for, but I’ve gotten a few messages like this, and honestly? People come to all kinds of art for different reasons, fic very much included. Some are coming to writing fic because they want to explore character voice and personality type as they stand; some come to it because they just want to write. They have ideas, and they’re fun, and it’s often much easier to take a fleshed-out pre-existing character and move them around a sandbox than it is to find the energy and time to build your own playground from scratch. That’s kind of the beautiful thing about writing fic in the first place: you can weave stories that touch people’s hearts, or make them laugh, or make them thirsty, and you can do it for free on your downtime as a no-pressure hobby.

So, in the event that there are stories where Dani and Jamie don’t feel to you like the show...I think that’s okay. I think that’s going to happen in all fandoms, and it’s going to happen more often than not, because the version on the page isn’t the version on the screen. Even for people who quote-unquote “have it down”--which, always debatable; no one is ever going to please everyone with their work--the version in the fic is an amalgamation. Like for me, my Jamie is, on my very very best day, maybe 60% AE’s work? Even when I’m trying my hardest to get the voice perfect. And the rest is my imagination. I’m not writing Amelia Eve-doing-Jamie, I’m writing a version of the character that lives inside my head; there’s no way around that. And some people might hate my Jamie. They might feel FWB!Jamie is nothing like the real thing, and is an insult to the show. And that’s totally cool! That’s completely fine. They might look at vampire!Dani, and think I did everything wrong in constructing that version of the character, because “where’s the Pedretti?” It doesn’t make those stories inherently bad or wrong, it just means they won’t work for everyone.

So much of fic is not only keeping the characters alive, so to speak, but testing their bounds. Some people are better at replicating voice than others, just like how some traditional/digital artists are better at replicating photo-realistic portraits. A super cartoony version of fanart is not inherently lesser than a perfect photo-realism piece. They’re coming from the same place of love, but with different skill sets, or different priorities, or both. Same thing with fic: some people want to tread the bounds of the show really neatly (I’m guilty of this in some ways, like how I tend to fall back on the same kinds of headcanons every time, or how I never write Viola in as a human woman in a modern setting, etc), and some people just want to see these characters breathe as cowboys, or rock stars, or aliens. It’s going to hit different buttons for different readers. Even if you don’t personally love the idea of Jamie using that particular kind of language, or Dani wielding a gun, the person is still trying to tell a fun story in their downtime. And it’s cool that they’re doing that. It’s cool that it’s building communities, and making the pandemic less shitty to live through, and keeping a variant of these characters--even if this variant is only 50% AE-Jamie/VP-Dani, or 25%, or 10% to some readers’ eyes--alive.

I don’t want this to come off like I’m being harsh to you, or to the other folks who have sent messages like this before, but I do want to be clear that I stand on the side of making art. And recognizing that for some people, it’s their very first time out the gate trying this. And for others, they’ve been doing it for years as a fun way to flex their muscles and stay sane in a crappy world. And no one’s story is going to make everyone happy; in every single fandom I’ve ever been part of, I’ve poked my head into The Biggest Fics and almost always ducked back out again with a hearty no-thanks. I come to fic for specific things, and that’s not always going to be found in every story, even the popular ones--and that is okay. I would never, ever advise reaching out to a person who is writing stories for free, for fun, and for the purpose of making other people happy, and telling them they’re doing a bad job for not fully grasping a character the way I do. Because honestly, even if you see it as lazy? I can tell you from experience, writing stories--especially long ones, especially AUs--is hard. It meanders, and the words fight back, and you question yourself every step of the way sometimes. Even if the story feels lazy to one reader, I promise, the author is mulling it over in the shower, problem-solving on the way to work, batting things back and forth with betas to work out plot holes. The use of character might feel odd, but the story is what matters, and I always, always want to support that, even if that story isn’t for me personally.

#ask #fanfic #i have let a lot of these messages slide by because i recognize what you're trying to get at #but ultimately i really do want to be clear that stories being written is a good thing #and that sometimes the act of being involved in fandom is learning when to smile and nod and politely turn away from the pieces that don't #i love that you love my variants of dani and jamie. i love that you think i Get the show #it's possible the person next to you can't stand seeing my username because they think i'm incredibly off-base every time #and i would be so incredibly bummed out if that person were to leave me comments telling me 'your fun is wrong'#so...yeah. bit more than you were hoping for probably and i apologize for that #but i thought it was time i clarified a few things just on the general subject of writing fic/making art #it's good to do. make it. if you have 10 readers or 10k make it anyway #your story will hit for someone i promise #and that someone will absolutely be delighted to scream in your inbox about how you made them lose sleep #and that shit is worth it #Anonymous #*pieces that don’t work for you

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zofiecfield · 3 years

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I love your writing and our occasional comments back and forth, I even have a separate folder on my ipod just for your Bly fics. I'll have you know though that your fic Under the Glow of Glaring Lights hurt me. Like I had to take a break from Dani/Jamie for a few days. But that's not why I'm here. I'm here to say your work is amazing, but I have no idea how to say Zofiecfield. What's it stand for and how is it said?

@littlesolo, you're very kind. I enjoy our occasional tumblrchats as well!

Under the Glow of Glaring Lights got you, huh? That sort of pleases me deeply to hear... though nothing that takes someone away from Dani/Jamie for a few days is acceptable...

zofie c. field: Zofie, as in a variant of Sophia, which is a variant of one of my great-grandmother's names, which I got attached early on. C. Field as in Chesterfield, as in the name I gave to the little cartoon cat I used to (okay, sometimes still) draw. Zofie Chesterfield was my pen name as a kid in school for any creative writing stuff (delightful nerd...), and once I got into fic writing, I ended up with zofiecfield (which is, I understand, accidentally, Zofie Chesterfield Field, but let's ignore that little oversight, yeah?)

#ask

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annawoodhull · 4 years

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super detailed OC ask 1 & 12

Thanks so much! Since there wasn’t a specific OC mentioned, I’ll just use all the ones I’m currently writing 😊

1. What’s their full name? Why was that chosen? Does it mean anything?

Abigail Elizabeth Williams (When We Were Young, Turn Washington’s Spies):

I don’t know what made me choose the name Abigail Williams. It just sort of came to me. Maybe I had The Crucible at the back of my mind while coming up with her name, which I hope doesn’t reflect my Abigail’s character at all haha. According to Behind the Name.com, Abigail means “my father is joy”, which makes a certain plot point in the fic so much deeper than I intended since I had no idea her first name meant that. Elizabeth means “my God is an oath”, which I think suits her really well. She is incredibly loyal to her friends and family, and when she makes a promise, she intends to keep it.

Darrick Merlyn (The Queen and Her Wildling, Game of Thrones)

Darrick comes from The Iron Islands, so I had to choose a family house for him. I chose Merlyn for the fact it’s one of the more important Houses on the Iron Islands, and honestly, I just like the name. The meaning for Darrick was interesting to search for. After several clicks through different variants, it comes from the name “Theodoric”, meaning “ruler of the people”. Merlyn means “sea fortress”, so I think GRRM chose that name very well for a canon House. I think this fits Darrick very well. He’s a natural born leader and is a child of the sea, yet he went against his family, who is very pro-Dany and chose to follow his heart to the North to pursue Sansa Stark and give Jon Snow a run for his money.

Jaeda Baratheon (King & Lionheart, Game of Thrones)

The only legitimate child of Robert Baratheon, Jaeda is one of my newest OC babies. Jaeda means “gift” and there wasn’t a meaning for Baratheon, since I suspect GRRM made it up. I chose this surname specifically because it’s a very important part of her backstory. Again, I hadn’t researched her name beyond a Game of Thrones name generator for ideas. In a way, she’s a gift for Jamie who finally gets to be a father to her that he has been denied being for so long due to circumstances and such. I wish I could say more but spoilers shhhh lol

Brenna “Bree” Arundel (Into The Unknown, Star Wars):

Bree actually means a disturbance or something similar in Gaelic, which influenced my decision to use Brenna – an influence from Outlander obviously lol. Brenna is a variant of Brenda, which means “sword”, which is very interesting considering she’s training to be a Jedi under Rey. Arundel apparently means valley or something, and I mostly chose it because I like the way it sounded. Funny enough, I didn’t realize it sounded liked Arendell until a friend of mine made a Frozen reference, which is hilarious considering a) the name of the fic (Into the Unknown) and b) the fic plot haha

12. What is their favourite food?

Abigail:

She really enjoys cooking, so it’s kind of difficult to pinpoint a favorite food for her, although I can say she’s come to really appreciate food more after her days disguised as a soldier in the Continental Army. I can see her having developed a sweet tooth from not having access to it for so long. After the war is over, she and Ben get to babysit little Thomas, who definitely has a sweet tooth. As a result, she often finds herself baking things with him, and tarts have definitely become her favorite. You can do anything with tarts, either a desert or a side dish, so I can see her liking them a lot, especially as a desert.

Darrick:Growing up on the Iron Islands, agriculture wasn’t possible due their lands and soil levels and it went the Old Gods’ wishes. Naturally, he has grown up with seafood all of his life, and ironically, he doesn’t realize how tired of it he is until he travels to Winterfell and discovers his love for their meat and vegetable stew, which Sansa finds endearing about him. Winterfell doesn’t have anything fancy as they do in King’s Landing or any place else, but mostly vegetables and meats, but to Darrick, it’s a new favorite treat.

Jaeda:Growing up in King’s Landing, Jaeda has experienced an array of different foods. Like Sansa, she has a sweet tooth, but instead of lemon cakes, she has a weakness for honey cakes. As for regular food, she really enjoys a good stew or soup, which her other siblings tease her for because of all the foods they’re presented with, that’s what she chooses, something simple and boring. But sometimes simple and boring can be nice, especially in a world run by backstabbing politics and other dangers.

Brenna:She loves noodles. If we look at anything in the Star Wars universe, I think noodles is a safe bet. She’s not fully vegetarian, but she’s inclined not to eat meat from creatures that she’s interacted with/find adorable and feels too guilty to think of them as nourishment, although she doesn’t mind the occasional Nerf nugget.

#answered asks #ask game #ocfairygodmother

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novelconcepts · 4 years

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So the Bly ending is written where Dani is doomed to return to the lake. What would your alternative fanfic ending look like where she (and/or Jaime) overcame this, or Dani didn’t have to die? Is that okay ask?

The universe is vast and sprawling, infinite. Every story has its repercussions, events laid out end to end, a preordained path. Every teller must, as consequence of shaping the tale, admit to one endpoint as its required result. A story is possessed of a beginning, middle, end.

But, not every end is singular.

The universe is vast, sprawling, infinite. And tiny details rearrange enormous conclusions.

Jamie wakes early most mornings; Jamie is a morning person, tried and true, good at being awake before most people are willing to condone the action. Morning is when conversation is least likely to sneak up on a person, when someone is allowed to simply be alone with whatever thoughts they please, without explanation. She was good at it before Dani Clayton strode into her life, and she’s been arguably better at it ever since.

This morning, the morning of the greatest consequence in maybe their entire life together, Jamie wakes earlier than most. The sky is still dark outside their bedroom window, the world still muddled and whispering around the apartment. Birds have not yet taken to their morning rituals. The sun is miles away.

And Dani is starting to stir.

Jamie sits up, leaning back against the pillows, and watches as her wife--lips parted in a silent snore, hand tossed across Jamie like it was made to rest there--raises her head. Turns it, ever so slightly, in Jamie’s direction. She makes to whisper something in return--good morning, or go back to sleep, or I love you--but Dani’s face is slack. There’s no sign of activity about the expression, no sign that she’s doing this of her own free will.

At first, it’s almost funny. Watching Dani slide across the bed toward her, bemused as she drapes a leg over Jamie’s lap and settles her weight like a queen upon a throne. There’s something decidedly not-Dani about the action; Dani laughs when she climbs to a position like this, self-consciousness and delight mixing on her pretty face. This Dani, this sleepwalking variant, moves like something is pulling the strings from a terrible distance.

And it hurt, Jamie thinks for no reason at all, a parody of an eleven-year-old boy in her still-waking mind. She raises her eyebrows, lets her hands settle on Dani’s hips, watches her wife just...sit there. Astride her in a red sleep shirt and no sign of consciousness.

It is, if she’s honest with herself, more than a touch eerie.

When Dani’s arm raises, it’s the slowest thing Jamie’s ever watched. Like a mechanical thing, like an automaton not yet ready for practice, Dani’s arm shifts, elbow bending, releasing, extending. Her hand, Jamie realizes belatedly, is forming a sort of loose claw shape.

There is a universe, she thinks, where Dani’s hand continues its arc across calm night air and makes its predestined landing. A universe where those fingers she knows so well, the ones that tickle and trace and hold tight to her each day as the world gets harder and harder to occupy, clutch around Jamie’s windpipe. There is a universe where this, this final moment, is where Dani’s belated beast in the jungle finally makes its move.

“Right, then,” Jamie says, so softly she barely hears the words herself. “We need to talk.”

Dani’s hand...pauses. Mid-flight, stretched out, her other braced against Jamie’s shoulder for balance, and her eyes don’t open. Jamie’s relieved. If Dani were to wake like this, if Dani were to feel just how close to the edge she really is--and Jamie’s the first to insist it isn’t so, but sometimes you just need to know when to say when--things would go differently. Things could go very badly indeed.

Dani doesn’t wake. Jamie, carefully, stretches out her own hand. The left one, the one honored with a gold band that marks lifelong love, friendship, loyalty. She wraps her fingers around the wrist that does not, in this moment, seem to belong to Dani Clayton at all.

“It’s you, then,” Jamie says softly. Her voice is raw, deeper than its normal cadence with early morning rasp. “Isn’t it?”

Dani’s head...tilts. Just a little, like she’s listening. Or, more accurately, like someone else is listening from inside.

“You, waking at last,” Jamie goes on. Dani’s head...nods. Just a little. Barely anything at all, and if Jamie weren’t looking for it, maybe she’d think it was a fit of shadows.

“You,” she says, “thinking you get to claim your prize.”

Dani doesn’t move. Jamie sits up a little more, shifting Dani’s weight atop her, careful not to jar. She leans closer to Dani’s face, one hand still holding the offending wrist, the other sliding up the side of Dani’s neck with tender care. She rests her fingers along the span of Dani’s jaw, gentle as she’s ever known how to be. This is a moment for gentle. This is a moment for infinite care.

“I’ve read your story,” she says to the beast in the jungle. She hasn’t told Dani just how far down that particular rabbit hole she’s slid. They've talked about some of it, about the strange dreams Dani feels certain are more than nighttime fabrications. About locked trunks and lost daughters and loneliness. But there’s more to any ghost story than the echoes of misery, and one day, with Dani out on errands, she made a call to an old friend across the pond. And then another. And another, following leads, old voices spinning older stories with just enough sources behind them that they really did constitute history.

Henry Wingrave will never know the gift he granted, taking her call that day, arming her this way. He never needs to. Jamie’s grateful enough.

“I know what happened to you,” she says now, her fingers cupping Dani’s face like on a thousand other nights. “I know about your husband.”

Something in Dani’s face seems to shiver. Jamie presses on.

“I know about your sister.”

Something in Dani’s brow seems to harden. Jamie is undeterred.

“I know you know what love is. No. I know you know devotion. You do, don’t you? That word. It’s everything.”

Dani’s head is still, her eyes closed, but Jamie senses the thing puppeteering her body is listening very, very intently. She nods. She isn’t smiling, isn’t making a game of this. There is such a thing as last chances, and Jamie knows better than most what those look like.

“You understand. Because you and I, I think we speak the same language, when it’s all on the table. Devotion. It’s the reason we’re here. It’s the engine we, you and I, run on. Isn’t it?”

Dani’s head...nods. A little harder this time. Like the thing inside, hands on the controls, is really beginning to figure out all those little buttons and knobs. Jamie swallows. Faster, then. Time is running shy.

“You understand, then, why I can’t let you have her.”

A pause. The wrist in her grasp flexes, fingers twitching toward a fist. Jamie twists her grip slightly, lets her thumb run soft along Dani’s skin, and those fingers relax.

“I know. I know you’ve been through it. I can see that. But she...is everything. She’s my world. And I know you know what that feels like. So, I’m not...gonna beg. I’m not gonna sit here on my knees and plead with you, because I think you and I both know that isn’t worth a whit of your respect. I’m just gonna say it. All right?

“This,” she says. “Her. She stays. S’not me begging. S’me saying exactly how it is. She. Stays.”

Dani’s body sits for a moment, frozen, and Jamie thinks she’s misplayed those cards. That Dani’s hands will shoot for her throat again, and this time, they will finish what they woke this morning to start.

“I?” Dani’s voice sounds wrong. Distant. Like a sleepwalker mouthing dreamspeech. Jamie doesn’t think she’s imagining the very light tinge of accent--nothing like the silly dialect butchering Dani likes to do when she’s poking fun at Jamie. “What of me?”

“That,” Jamie says through a mouth so dry, she could lean over the side of the bed and vomit, “is between you and yours. I’m not gonna tell you again, though. This one. She stays.”

“Ends,” the voice that isn’t Dani’s whispers. “Everything.”

“Yes.” Tears, pricking Jamie’s eyes, do not match the smile moving to rest upon her lips. “Yes. It does. Eventually. But we have time, she and I. We have so much time. And...when it’s over?”

“Yes,” the voice breathes. There’s something horribly wanton behind the word. Jamie swallows.

“When it’s over, we go back. Her and I. Back to where it all started. Your place. Your home. You won’t be alone, not anymore, but first...we get this. You give us this. She carried you out of that place without anyone asking, least of all me, and she’ll carry you for the rest of her life because Christ knows she won’t give you up for anyone else to bear. But that’s enough. You hear? It’s enough. It’s you, and it’s us, but not yet. Not until we’re ready.”

“Life,” the voice says, almost scornfully. “Never ready.”

“We,” Jamie hisses, “will be. One day. When we’re old and withered, when my hair’s gone snow-side and her eyes aren’t so good anymore, when we’re all out of beautiful boredom and all that’s left is to go holding her hand all the way to the other side. Then. We’ll sleep at Bly one last time, and we’ll wake together, and we’ll walk. As long as you like. We will. But.”

“Not yet,” the voice says. Jamie isn’t imagining the resolution in the words, she’s sure. “Not yet.”

“And until then,” Jamie adds, leaning forward until her forehead is nearly flush with Dani’s. “Until then, you leave her be. You hear me? No more reflections. No more shaking her loose until she can’t feel me beside her. You go back to sleep, and you stay asleep until you feel the pull of that old house again. Are we of an accord?”

Old-fashioned words for an old-fashioned oath, and oh, if this doesn’t work, Jamie’s got nothing left. She isn’t one for pretty language. She isn’t one for negotiation.

But she is, always will be, Dani’s. Dani’s champion. Dani’s partner. Dani’s rock.

“Yes,” the voice says at last, the voice of a Lady so old and so long-buried, it’s a wonder there’s anything left of her at all. Jamie nods, pushing her head against the smooth skin of Dani’s, her hand coming up to cup the back of her hair.

“Then I think it’s time we said goodnight.”

“Jamie?” The word wavers. Dani seems to fall against her, like whatever was holding her up has finally come loose. Jamie, prepared, holds fast, holds soft, holds and presses their lips together.

“Just a bad dream, Poppins,” she says. “Just a strange bad dream.”

“I was dreaming,” Dani repeats, waking in a slow rolling wave. “I was dreaming of...moonflowers. Of that night. Of the way you...”

Jamie kisses her again, channeling everything of that night she can into the act, holding her close and praying she can’t feel the way Jamie’s heart careens and crashes inside her chest. Dani, bewildered, kisses back with soft little whimpers, her knees clamped tight around Jamie’s hips.

They’ll go back to bed soon enough, Dani’s head on her chest, Dani’s fingers fisted tight around the loose-buttoned flannel of her shirt. Dani will breathe in and out, soft, slow, and Jamie will lay awake. Waiting for a sign. Waiting for any kind of sign that this pact was not well enough made.

But the beast in the jungle will give no sign of life. No sign at all. Dani will sleep, and Jamie will tangle a hand in her hair and hold fast, and when morning comes properly...it’s just another morning. Sunrise and birdsong and plants to water.

And, she’ll think, when Dani rises and sleepily makes her way toward a hot shower, her eyes will look clearer than they have in months.

“Good, Poppins?”

Dani, like one granted a reprieve they can’t quite put a finger on, will smile. A real smile, honest and clear, dimples and delight.

“Feels like a nice morning, doesn’t it?”

She’ll vanish into the bathroom, leaving the door open in wordless invitation, and Jamie, finally, will exhale.

#the haunting of bly manor #the haunting of bly manor spoilers #fanfiction #dani x jamie #fix-it fic #I hope this is what you were looking for #I woke up with it ringing in my head #jamie x dani

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