#this is my call to fanfic writers PLEASE i don’t even read fanfiction but i need a crossover between these things so bad

[cchipollo]

please PLEASE hear me out

#twrp #tupper ware remix party #star trek #star trek tng #scribbles #this is my call to fanfic writers PLEASE i don’t even read fanfiction but i need a crossover between these things so bad

[sinon36]

Echoes of Salvation: The Deal (Part I). Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x afab reader  (Zombie AU)

Part II

The story starts after the dash.

Warnings: some gore, some mistakes, some bad writing (eh… we all have to start somewhere), not proof read, some independent woman surviving on her own without the need of help from men (cause I like self reliant women and people in general, they are a great inspiration to us all, really).

Disclaimer:

Dear readers,

Please be kind. This is my first fanfiction ever that I wrote and posted, so please be kind and overlook any potential inaccuracies, mistakes, grammatical errors as I’m not a professional writer and also English isn’t my native tongue. Though I have studied British English I am sure I haven’t really managed to accurately portray the British way of speaking, so please, feel free to point out anything that might poke you in the eye while reading this.

Also, I would like to tell you that this fan-fic is the love child of my obsession with our favourite masked man Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, and my love for anything zombie apocalypse or world-ending alternate universe or actual universe. Tbh If I wasn’t a poor student I would probably be a prepper, just like Frank from HBO’s TLoU. Most likely will be. I’m a little weird like that, you’ll see more in the future.

To close this little rant, I hope you’ll enjoy it, even if it’s short, I would really like to continue this if you deem it worth it enough. This will probably be a slow-burn kind of romance: 1. because I’m a sucker for the kind of slow-burn strangers/enemies to lovers fanfics, and 2. because it’s more realistic, let’s calm the whore-y instincts and be reasonable people that don’t climb masked 6-feet-tall strangers like trees.

With everything said I do not own the Call of Duty character Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley (*whispers*Though I wish I did*) BUT I do own this piece of fanfic. Please don’t steal it. Repost it but please do give credit to other people’s work. You may notice some similarities to other fanfics, cause duh, I also read a lot of that, (isn’t that one of the incipient stages to becoming a fanfic writer?), but I would really like to give a shout out to the fanfic author that really inspired me to put fingers to keyboard and a fanfic into Tumblr, please, *drum rolls* a round of applause for @nsharks with her lovely fanfic ‘Bleeding Blue’. She’s really wonderful and you should really check her out.

Have fun reading and don’t forget to leave a comment or a heart. I wouldn’t mind suggestions of what to name Simons’ daughter. That would really make my day 😊

P.S. Sorry to all the fishing loving people out there, what I said was based on my impression of the fishing experience and should be taken with a grain of salt.

            Yours truly <3

Synopsis:

It’s been five years since the outbreak happened. Five years ago, in London, a terrorist group released a virus in the city center. 24 hours later, people start developing flu-like symptoms. 48 hours later the infected turn into mindless ghouls biting healthy people and spreading the infection. Everything happened so fast. The army came in and tried to contain the outbreak but soon chaos engulfed the whole country. You learn that similar attacks happened all over the world: New York, Beijing, Moscow, Athens, and Tokyo. City by city, the whole world is ending.

You survived thanks to your mid-twenties life crisis that made you move into a cottage house by the lake in Lake District. The land you own is surrounded by thick lush forest that offers perfect cover for the tiny brick house that is your safe haven. With a water source close, off-the-grid energy, and a garden full of plants, fruit trees chickens, and whatnot, you live a comfortable life tucked away, far from the dangers of the cities. You are so far out of reach that in the past years you only saw a handful of infected, survivors that traveled far to escape and distant neighbours that got infected in the towns nearby. You can’t remember the last time you saw another person. But you are used to your loneliness. The end of the world brought only a mild inconvenience, now that you can no longer order things online and watch movies on Netflix or HBO. But with a library full of books, a homestead to keep you active and your Border Collie companion, Bellamy, life is good. Life is peaceful.

One day, while you are out fishing, a masked man, armed to the teeth and carrying a young girl in his arms threatens to kill you if you don’t provide him with medicine for his sick daughter.                     

-

The sky is cloudy above but some sunbeams break through to warm the crisp air this fine early spring morning. It’s a good time for fishing now that the water is warmer, they come closer to the bank in search of food. It’s a boring task after you arrange all your tools and launch the line in the water. It’s a game of waiting and watching for any small tugs or movement of the neon-coloured fishing line. You picked up fishing after a couple of months into moving here, when everything was a mess and so many repairs and renovations had to be made around the house. The guy from the tutorials you used to watch on YouTube talked about the calmness and relaxation fishing brought to him. Maybe you weren’t cut out to stand all day on shore and gawk like an idiot for hours at the thin plastic line submerged in the lake water. But you cannot deny the proud feeling catching a fish brought to you when the line finally went taught.

You try and ward off the boredom and instead try to focus on the warmth that spring brings after months of endless cold. The birds are singing in trees, preparing nests for future offspring, and the lake is calm, with bubbles on the surface indicating the abundance of fish. Life is good. Bellamy enjoys sunbathing next to you rolling in a patch of grass. Everything is peaceful. Nothing really happens here anyway. You close your eyes basking in the good feeling that overtakes you.

A branch snapping behind you wakes you from the meditation you have fallen into. You raise and turn from where you are crouched over your equipment. You come face to face with a strange figure.         

‘Show me yer hands’ he tells you in a thick British accent, eyes focused on you and handgun aimed at your chest. He wears all black and a haunting white skull mask. He is tall, at least 6 feet tall, body poised to kill. In his other arm, you can see a little girl hugging his neck.

You slowly raise your hands. At your foot, Bellamy growls baring her teeth at the stranger sensing danger. You shush her grabbing her by the caller to keep her from attacking the armed man. You stand still watching in apprehension as the man studies you. You look at the ground where you left your backpack and your hatchet.

‘Don’t even think about it’ comes the gruff order. You nod trying to convey that you understand the situation. ‘There’s nothing in that bag worth a bullet’ you tell him in an even tone despite fear creeping down your spine. He hums in agreement. ‘And if you wanted to kill me you would’ve done it by now.’ He watches you like a hawk its prey. ‘So…’ you pause carefully measuring your words, ‘what it is that you want from me?’ he gestures you to take a few steps back and you drag Bellamy by her collar.

He kicks at the backpack spilling the contents. A bottle of water and a half-eaten sandwich, a hunting knife, and a rectangular box in which you keep the hooks, lures, fishing lines, and other small fishing equipment. He turns his gaze back at you and nods toward your dog. ‘Put a muzzle on it or I’ll shoot it’. your blood runs cold at the thought of losing your sole companion. You scramble to untie the scarf you keep tied around your wrist that you use to wipe away sweat from your forehead. You wrap the piece of cloth around the dog’s snout tight enough to not slip away. Next, the dark-clad man tells you to pack your fishing gear and collect your backpack, with one hand keeping it outstretched to the side and the other one grabbing at Bellamy’s collar guiding her forward. ‘Move. Eyes forward. Any sudden moves and I drop you.’

He walks a couple paces behind you. For how big he is you can barely hear him walk on the path. You can feel his gaze burning in the back of your head and the gun pointed at your back. As you start down the path you can make out the roof of your small house. Once you get at the gate you stop. ‘open it’ he instructs. ‘The key is in my right pocket’ you say slowly gesturing to said pocket. ‘Mhm,’ you hear him grunt. You slowly release Bellamy and fish for the key in your jacket’s pocket. You slowly take it out and put it in the keyhole turning it and opening the gate.

The familiar sight of your front garden does nothing to appease you in this situation. Bushes full of colourful flowers hug the narrow path toward the house. The wind catcher hung above your porch clinks melodically as a gust of warm wind catches on it. you take a few more steps on the stone path before you and you hear the gate closing behind you. What once was your safe space now traps you in with a stranger ready to shoot you or worse.

‘Tie the dog to that pole’ he orders you again. On your right, there is a small pole stuck in the ground. He throws a roll of paracord next to you. You don’t move at first. You had never tied Bellamy down before. You can’t even remember when you last put a leash on her. She likes to roam free and run around. The click of the gun behind you tells you that you have no choice. You drop the backpack and start to drag her to the pole. She tries to resist but you shush her and urge her to move. Once you finish tying her you turn towards the stranger. He nods towards the house and you start walking hands raised on either side of your head. Once you open the door he urges you inside.

‘Where do you keep the medicine?’ he grumbles urgently. ’Bathroom.’ you nod to the right of your living room. ‘Go get it!’ you don’t wait around you spring toward the white door. After a couple of minutes grabbing most of what you keep in the over-sink cabinet you emerge hands filled with gauze of all sizes and different bottled pills. You return to find the man placing the girl on the couch. She appears to be asleep. You almost forgot about her. She looks about 8-years-old. Brown hair is chopped short in a pixie cut. She’s wearing blue-washed jeans and a dark green hoodie that’s too big on her.

You watch as he peels the hoodie from her limp body. Underneath she wears a striped t-shirt, but what catches your attention is her left upper arm. Red stained gauze is wrapped around. You are still in your approach keeping a safe distance. ‘Was she bit?’ the words rush out in apprehension. From where he kneels next to her his eyes snap at you. ‘No’ he denies the implication of your words. ‘Put that on the table and go sit by the door’ You do as you're told eyes darting between the girl and the man. You drop everything on the coffee table and go sit by the entrance door hugging your knees. You watch as he works on bandaging the kid. Your eyes are glued to the girl’s arm.

Even though you lived so far out into the wilderness you saw pictures on the internet of bites from the infected. You read the posts of the survivors and heard the news broadcast on all channels. Then everything went quiet. The cable didn’t work and your phone had no signal. You knew shit hit the fan and that it was serious. Then, a few weeks later you saw your closest neighbour, Neil, an elderly farmer who lived about half a mile further up the river’s bank, growling and stumbling trying to catch Bellamy who was running scared towards you. You tried to talk him out of the trance-like state but to no avail. He kept stalking towards you, ready to take a bite out of you. You tried to tell him to keep his distance and warned him that you would protect yourself. The rest was a blur. You faintly remember grabbing the hatchet that you used to cut down logs for your stove. And then the struggle with the man, Bellamy barking, you crying out pleas for him to stop. In the cacophony of noises, you hit him with the blade right in the neck. The next thing you knew, your neighbour lay in a pool of dark blood hatchet still. It took you a while to register what you have done. You just killed a man. You couldn’t forget the way he lay there, on the gravel, hands stretched outwards bloodshot eyes staring emptily at the sky. That was the first time you encountered an infected. You distinctly remember the fear and adrenaline that took hold of you. The feelings that gripped your heart so tight and that made you take a life take over you as you watch the little girl, possibly infected, unconscious but on her way to the same madness that turned Neil into a savage monster all those years ago.                                                 

'She's feverish. You got meds or something to bring the fever down?' his question brings down from your rising panic at the thought of being stuck inside with a possible infected. ‘There should be some anti-inflammatory pills and some antibiotics. They are out of date but they could still work.' He grabs hold of the med kit you brought. He sorts through the drugs checking the expiration dates. When he comes across the antibiotics, he studies the pack carefully, his eyes darting back and forth from the label to the girl. 'How much can I give her?' he asks with a hint of concern his stern facade crumbling slightly.

You look at him unsure what to say. Those pills have been bought before the start of the outbreak. You doubt expired drugs have any effect anymore. You refrain from saying that though. He is stressed, he might take his anger on you. ‘She’s a kid, you mumble, so, about half of each.’ He carefully considers his next action. ‘She’ll need water to take them, you add from down the floor. And some food…’ He nods in understanding. ‘May I?’ you don’t know why you offer this stranger help. First, he disturbs you from catching dinner, next, he threatens to kill you and your dog, now he takes over your house and medicine. But you can recognize the desperation in his look, the way he fumbles with the packaging. He is a parent trying to save his kid. Even though you don’t have any of your own you recognize the parental instincts, the same ones you exert on Bellamy.

He looks at you unsure of what to do. He surrenders in defeat and nods at you to go on. You rise to your full height, which doesn’t add up to much compared to him. You walk past them all the way to the back of the living room where you disappear behind a white door. After a couple minutes, you reemerge from the kitchen with a glass of water in one hand and a bowl of steaming vegetable soup you made this morning. You slowly approach the couch watching him for any sign that you might cross a line. Instead of any aggression he takes a step back and allows you to go closer to the girl. You place the bowl and the glass on the coffee table and kneel next to the couch.

The girl opens her eyes and looks at you with distrust. Like father like daughter… you think to yourself. But you try to smile at her try to reassure her. ‘I brought you some soup, love’ you say in your most sincere and kind voice. ‘You must eat a little and then take some pills that will make you feel better’. You try to persuade her. She stares at you for a minute then at the man. They are suspicious of you and they have all the reason to be. You are a stranger to them as much as they are to you. Funny you are in the position to try and win their trust in your own home. You take the spoon you brought for her and dip it in the bowl. You take a spoonful and hover it close to your face blowing a little over it and then you swallow it. You can’t help the little moan of appreciation for your own cooking skills. ‘See? It’s good.’ You look at her with a small smile.

You don’t know where this came from; you blame it on the 6-foot-tall armored stranger whose stare drives daggers at the back of your head and your desire to keep your head on your shoulders and all your blood in your body. You don’t outright hate kids but you were never good around them. With a sigh, she sits upright and takes the spoon from you. She eats slowly. You keep watching her. She is a pretty kid. She has blue eyes and freckles on her small button nose. You wonder if she looks anything like the man behind you. She is pale and sweat collects on her little forehead most likely from her fever. She eats half of the soup you brought her and then turns her gaze towards the man. He hands her the two halves of the pills. She takes them in her small hand and grabs the glass. She hesitates. ‘It’s okay’ you reassure her and with a nod, she puts the half tablets on her tongue following up with large gulps from the glass. She scrunches her little nose in disgust at the chalky taste. ‘Atta girl’ you hear him utter from behind you. ‘Now lay down and rest.' he says to the girl in a stern yet gentle voice. He watches her nod and lie back on the couch her eyes half-lidded. He sighs, 'Good for now. ' he mutters under his breath. His eyes are fixed on her as he gestures to you. 'Come with me.' You rise from the floor and follow him outside the front door.

He leads you outside. When you cross the threshold, he takes a deep breath and a look of relief washes over his stern features. He gestures for you to sit on the front porch with him. 'We need to talk...' 'Yeah' you say crossing your arms defensively over your chest and standing as far away as the length of your porch allows. you take a moment to study him as he fixes you with a cold stare. You notice the many pockets on his vest and belt. A patch on his chest reads S.A.S. He's ex-military, you muse. His uniform makes much more sense now. But the mask still unnerves you.

He leans against one of the wooden porch support beams right hand hovering on the pistol holster. You think it's an act to intimidate you, to remind you that he is still armed and ready to strike you down in your own home.  You stare at him a little defiantly. You’ll be damned before you let this weirdo intimidate you on your turf. He studies you from head to boots and back up. You sigh and square your shoulders showing him you are not afraid of him. ‘I’ve been watching you.’ He tells you in a matter-of-fact tone. You try to suppress the surprise on your face. You look down at his boots avoiding his icy gaze.

He’s been stalking you, and the realization dawns on you. You didn’t even notice his presence around the house. Stupid, you think to yourself, I’m growing complacent. But not even Bellamy caught his smell and she usually barks when someone or something comes close to the house. But earlier at the lake, he took you both by surprise. He’s good at keeping his presence concealed, you have to give it to him. You nod to yourself in understanding. He probably knows the layout of your house by now, he knows you are alone, and he waited for you to be outside and ambush you. You start imagining all the horrible things he could have done to you. But no, he instead approached you, gun pointed at you, nevertheless, when he could have already killed you and taken over your house by now. You hum and make eye contact with him.

‘Why keep me alive then?’ you ask him without beating around the bush. You study his mannerisms trying to catch something, anything to prove you he’s human. But he’s as unreadable as a statue. His gaze remains fixed on you, unblinking and stoic. You feel him studying you, taking in every detail of your person. He seems intent on reading into your every move.

In an even tone, he answers, 'Because you’re not a threat.’ His response catches you off guard, ego a little bruised at that, but you can’t argue with his logic. If he wanted to, he could have killed you by now, that’s for sure. You remain silent for a moment, processing his response. ‘But that doesn’t mean I trust you.’ He adds kicking off the beam and taking a step closer to you. He looks down at you tilting his head a little like a bird of prey watching a mouse, waiting for it to give chase and make the hunt more fun. You don’t give in to the urge to run inside and hide in your bedroom. Instead, you take a step towards him and look up at him ‘Because you need me’ you speak quietly. You can imagine a raised brow under that mask. You smile in triumph; even though he acts tough he needs help and all the intimidating façade was in a desperate attempt to get it.

‘I get it’ you continue having him figured out. ‘Your kid is sick and out there dangers are lurking at every turn. You need a place to stay until she gets better.’ You finish voicing your theory on why he’s really here having this conversation with you. His eyes closed in defeat. Gotcha, you smile even more widely at your deduction. ‘You can stay, you say as you turn and walk down the three steps of your porch heading towards the gate. ‘On one condition, you add stopping in your track. You turn fully towards him and he watches you curiously as if you’d have any power to demand him anything. ‘No harm comes to me or my dog’ you say remembering his earlier threats of him offing you both. ‘Do we have a deal?’ it’s not unreasonable, though it irks you that you have to bargain for your safety with a stranger. ‘Deal.’ He says in his usual gruff voice nodding to you in sign of respect for your demand.

‘Good’ you say as you stalk off towards where Bellamy lays muzzled and tied like a prisoner of war. You free her and she jumps at you happy to be in your proximity. She must have been worried sick here all alone. Poor thing. You then go to the gate and slide the too-large bolts meant to keep any unwanted guests outside. Or inside in your case. ‘And to think nothing interesting ever happens around her, right, Bell?’ your rhetorical question is met with a bark of agreement.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #zombie au #cod mw2 #ghost cod #cod x reader #call of duty #slow burn #simon riley imagine #simon riley fanfic

[hacked-by-jake]

Hey HBJ, How are u? :)

as we are remembering things....CAN WE TALK ABOUT THE FACT THAT IN MOONVALE WE WILL BE ABLE TO READ FANFICS?? I keep imagining that Jake and MC became so famous that people created FANFICS about the two of them or about the Duskwood case itself, I was surprised by this decision by everbyte and I believe that they read a lot of fanfics from extremely talented authors in the fandom and want to somehow reproduce it in the new game.

(I imagine Jake reading these fanfics in the game and being embarrassed when he finds a hot one)

Hey Ho, dear Anon. Nice to see you here! Doing alright, I guess, thank you so much for asking. How about you?

Well, yes! Absolutely needed to remember. Tbh, after finishing episode 10, the last few days I really had to think about it excessively, I still don’t know what to think about it. I mean, I don’t know any game or similar that that has ever done this. It's so, wow. And also 'wtf' xD

And in fact, I have the same theory as you, which would definitely make a lot of sense, if not most sense. And that’s why I don’t know exactly what to make of it, especially, what fanfictions will they use? And how exactly it is going to be, ahhhh. It's crazy, definitely.

Another possibility would be that it is something like another forum, only this time for writers or something. Or another library-like thing. I mean, had this two things in duskwood. And finding some 'books' aka fanfictions there would be interesting as well. Or yeah, like in the forum, people shared their written things.

This is a huge mystery, tbh. I can’t believe Everbyte just dropped that question and then didn’t mention it ever again. How can they do this to us? 😭 It's truly tormenting my thoughts. xD

However, I am also a bit afraid of how it will be and how exactly it will turn up. I mean, this could get a lot of people into fanfiction who don’t know or appreciate this kind of creativity. I feat it could also lead to hate for the authors or for people making jokes about it etc. So I really hope everything is going to be careful with it.

And also, gosh, if they read fanfiction... PLEASE NO. I mean, I don’t know if they know about tumblr and the fandom but just imagine it is... WAHHHHH. A bit embarrassing, tbh. But also kinda cool. Because it's absolutely right, we have so many amazing writer in this community and I would love it when Everbyte knows about them. They writer deserve to be appreciated for it.

And, Jake reading some smut about him and MC... I LOVE THIS so much. It would be so funny and well, hot. This imagine is incredible. Also that other people around MC would know about these type of fanfiction and that people wrote some including MC. Call me weird but I love that as well. Hehe. It is definitely a slightly different way to show off. But it's a good way.

Thank you for this reminder, dear Anon. Seriously. I'm anxious but to thrilled about it and I can't wait to see what Everbyte came up with for us. I already see us all going insane about it on Tumblr. xD

I hope you're having an amazing day or evening/night. Take care of yourself and stay healthy and safe. <3

#cute dw anon #cute mv anon #cute dw x mv anon #hbj dw answers #hbj dw x mv answers #hbj mv answers #duskwood #moonvale #duskwood jake #duskwood hacker #iamjake #moonvale jake #dw x mv jake #everbyte studio #duskwood game #duskwood everbyte #everbyte duskwood #duskwood mc #duskwood jake x mc #everbyte game #moonvale game #moonvale everbyte #everbyte moonvale

[the1975attheirverybest]

To/for all fanfic readers and writers, with lots of love ❤️:

Hey friends 💗 so, as many of you already know, a lot of fans (many of them fanfic writers) have been leaving tumblr lately and our community has been affected by a lot of negativity and stress for the compounding effects of multiple reasons. Though this is by no means the ONLY reason, fanfic writers have recently dealt with a lot of undue hate, unnecessary drama, and not enough appreciation.

Writers don’t only write for validation. HOWEVER, the experience and practice of writing comes with a lot of feelings of inadequacy and imposter syndrome. Moreover, writing is primarily a mode of connection. Al of art is. People who write, paint, make music, build stuff…we all do so as ways to express ourselves and connect with others. And getting to share what you write at the end of the writing process adds a layer of meaning to what you do that wouldn’t otherwise exist if you just saved it in a little folder somewhere on your device. So, when writers feel more stress and drama than appreciation, support, or any sign that the connection they reached out for has been made, it naturally makes us question what we do.

It pains me (and I know so may of my mutuals share this sentiment) to see so many talented and beautiful souls leave the fandom space because the culture of community and support that used to be here is no longer inclusive of everyone. It seems, these days, every time I log on, I’m seeing more and more mutuals saying that they’re going to leave, take a long break, or stop posting. I don’t know about you all, but I know I speak both, as a reader, and a writer, when I say that other people leaving is not good for them, for me, or for anyone who loves this fandom and this community.

What can we do about this?

Writers:

Hello my babies ❤️ I love you all. I see you all.

PLEASE OH PLEASE KEEP WRITING.

You’re doing amazing. You are the glue that holds this community together. You make art. Inspire conversations. Stir other people’s imaginations.

Art produces art. I started posting on here because I read the writing of other talented people on here that MADE ME want to start doing it.

Whether you write little blurbs, take request, writer multi-chapter, long, thousand + word fics, or just concepts; whether you write smut, fluff, angst….whatever it is that you do, you are valid. Important. Needed. Necessary.

When the inevitable “hiatus” occurs or even in between shows….who do you think this fandom depends on for keeping the energy alive? Writers.

Writing can be a lonely and self-loathing experience. We need each other. Reach out to other writers. Lift them up. Support them.

Share your work with one another. Discuss. Fangirl. Celebrate yourselves and each other. No, no, no ,no!! I heard that. I heard that sneaky voice in the back of your head telling you that you don’t have the right to call yourself a writer or to celebrate cuz you’re not even that good. FUCK THAT SHIT. YES YOU DO. YES YOU ARE.

Readers

Y’all are so so so special. ❤️ yes we write to entertain ourselves. Yes we do it cuz it’s fun. But when I tell you that there is no greater joy to me than reading y’all’s thoughts in the tags when you reblog, or seeing your comments or asks….literally means more to me than anything.

Do NOT let anyone make you feel bad or guilty about enjoying fanfiction.

If you like a fic, engage with it. Like, comment, reblog, reach out to the writer and let them know that you liked it.

Bonus points if you let them know WHAT you liked about it. I promise you, you’ll have that talented and slutty and sweet mf kicking screaming twirling their hair and smiling for the rest of the day if you tell them you enjoyed what they wrote.

You are never bothering us. We never get tired of your kindness. It’s never repetitive. It’s never meaningless. Any time that you say something, your comment will pop into our head when we next question whether or keep going or not.

Sooooo….what do we do about this?

I encourage you, whether you’re a new writer or a writer with a platform, please don’t stop because some childish killjoys with inferiority complexes wanna take your shine away. Post your work. Enjoy the unique pleasures of making art outside of the structures of capitalist consumption. Nobody is paying you for this. Nobody is estimating the value of your worth and trying to market your labor. Do you know how rare that is???

Writers support writers. Lift each other up. Share each others work. Give each other feedback. Remind each other of each others talent when you see someone starting to doubt themselves or haters getting under their skin.

Readers: like, COMMENT, FUCKIN REBLOG. it takes an extra second. It’s worth more than you know. Do it. It’s the least you can do for someone who has poured their heart and soul into something and delivered it to you on a silver platter.

Writers, readers, shitposters, fans a like: look out for one another. Take care of each other. Have each others backs. If you see a hateful comment, if you see someone trying to gate-keep, shame, or alienate anyone for any reason, CALL. THEM. OUT. Actions have consequences. If you’re so cowardly as to take yiu hate from one platform to another, you don’t have the write to make people feel like shit and ruin their hobby without consequences. You’ll be called on to answer for your bullshit.

There is no hierarchy within the fandom. You don’t get to tell someone how matty will feel about them as a fan and you don’t get to judge the way that someone participates in this fandom.

This month, a lot of your favorite authors will be posting October/ fall/ Halloween themed fics because of this. I think it’s the perfect time to revisit the way that we do reader and writer appreciation around here. I encourage you all to engage with fanfiction more personally and help make this fandom safe for everyone.

#matty healy fanfic #the 1975 fanfic #Ross McDonald fanfic #george daniel fanfiction

[love-kurdt]

How to Write a Good Fanfiction: A 5 Step Manual

Hello! My name is @love_kurdt, also known as Eva, and I’m a Wattpad Veteran of the early 2010s, where the genres of Slash Fics, Y/N, and Imagines ran rampant. I spent years of my life as a kid scrolling through my iPod touch, weeding through Wattpad’s plethora of profiles, on a quest to find quality fanfictions. I found a handful, which I added to a specific reading list to come back to when I needed a break from screaming into my pillow because of the sheer audacity of thought-criminals who called themselves writers.

When I’d reached the point of reading the same five works over and over in a never ending cycle, I decided to make the life-altering decision to start publishing my fanfictions online. Granted, I was only thirteen at this point, so my writing wasn’t spectacular by any means, but I came to discover that over time, the mere acts of reading and writing can light a spark of inspiration that can carry you to creative success.

I’ve been writing my own works for over ten years now, and can confidently say that I have cracked the code to writing a good fanfiction that will have your readers captivated instead of cringing. Please don’t get me wrong– if you want to just write fanfic on the internet for fun, and not to write a novel, that’s great, too! That’s what the internet is for; exercising your free will. But this manual is tailored towards those who want to hone in on their craft and gain a substantial following as strictly fanfiction authors. So without further ado, let’s jump into it. Godspeed!

Step 1: Choose Your Fandom

What show, movie, or book has drawn you in and left you feeling like there should be more to the story? When one of those media comes to mind, you’ve chosen your fandom!

Step 2: Do Your Research

When writing fanfiction, it’s kind of an unspoken rule that you need to know the canon of the fandom you’re writing about. The canon is also known as the source material. For example, if someone were to write a Draco Malfoy x OC fanfiction (*cough* a 200+ page Draco Malfoy self insert fic written at 11 years old in a series of notebooks bound together with multiple layers of Gorilla tape *cough*), the canon would be the Harry Potter series by J.K. Rowling. It’s, in essence, what “really” happened. It’s totally fine if you want to write a non-canon compliant fic, too! In fact, they’re extremely popular, specifically within the “fix-it” genre, which usually involves characters that died in the canon but the author kept alive in their fanfiction. Either way, you should have a general idea of how the canon functions within the context of the fandom, so you can make creative choices that diverge from or stick to the canon.

With the canon comes the fanon, which is basically a compilation of fan theories and headcanons that are often common themes in both canon and non-canon compliant fanfics. A pretty niche example of this is the Byler fandom (the ship between Stranger Things characters Will Byers and Mike Wheeler), where there’s an official list of theories on Tumblr that are used in many, if not most Byler fanfictions. There’s FlickerGate, where the flickering of the garage light in Season 1 is actually Will and Mike in the Upside Down in Season 5. There’s BirthdayGate, where the antagonist, Vecna, manipulates the minds of everyone in Hawkins to forget Will’s birthday, which is a central plot point in a lot of Byler fics since no one seems to remember it, not even his best friend. There’s also LetterGate, where Will confronts Mike in the canon about not sending any letters after he’d moved away, but the theory reveals that Mike wrote plenty of letters– he just never sent them because they ended up turning into love letters, which in turn resulted in internalized homophobia. You get the picture. Most theories reach far into the land of delusion, but it doesn’t stop writers from creating incredible work that could easily be mistaken for a script.

But Eva, what if I just think the characters are hot and I don’t give a shit about the cannonball? I can’t tell you what to do, my friend, but I highly suggest you at least consider the canon so you can avoid all the petty, obnoxious gatekeepers in some fandoms who can be unhinged enough to send death threats if you leave out a significant canonical detail. But you do you!

Step 3: Choose Your Platform

There are three popular platforms to choose from: Archive of Our Own (ao3), Tumblr, and Wattpad. There are also a few other lesser known or dead pages such as fanfiction.net, but I honestly wouldn’t bother with those, since they’re more infiltrated with anons and bots nowadays.

This is where you want to think about 1) where most of the members in the fandom you chose reside, and 2) the demographic of readers you want to reach. For example, I observed a higher number of Nirvana fans on Wattpad than the other two platforms, which is why I chose to post my full length Kurt Cobain fanfiction, “You Know You’re Right,” on there. It also helped that my favorite author of another Kurt Cobain fanfiction on Wattpad, @/ugh-nirvana, had hits in the hundreds of thousands, so I was confident that my book would do well on that specific platform. On the other hand, the Stranger Things fandom is in full swing on Tumblr and ao3, so I chose to post those fanfictions on there rather than on Wattpad. It all just depends on who’s where.

You also have to consider how active you want to be on your platform(s). Tumblr is more of a blog situation, while ao3 and Wattpad are solely for publishing the work. If you want to have a life beyond the realms of the world wide web, choose Wattpad or ao3, as inconsistent updates are a bit more accepted than on Tumblr. But if you want to throw yourself headfirst into a fandom and put your whole author-ussy into your fanfic, then Tumblr is the platform for you.

You should be aware, however, that Tumblr involves a lot of upkeep, as well as constant, strategic, and active participation within your fandom. Visual aesthetic is vital to any functional Tumblr blog. Most profiles have directories, with color coded links to each work’s homepage, which is linked to each individual chapter, which are then distinguished by a unique GIF to capture a prospective reader’s attention while they’re scrolling through copious amounts of content. And there are always new ideas and theories in development in certain fandoms, so it’s crucial to keep up with recent updates in order to stay relevant.

After all is said and done, you don’t have to get married to one platform for the rest of your life. You can choose to be exclusive to one or two platforms, or publish everything on all of them! The decision is ultimately yours!

Step 4: Obey the Writer’s Trifecta of Consistency

Yes, I came up with this term, and yes, it should be a real thing. Because in every piece of writing, whether it be fanfiction, a short story, an actual book, a screenplay, what have you, it is critical to be consistent in your People, your POV, and your Plot. Let me explain.

People

Your people, or your ensemble of characters, consists of three hierarchical levels: your protagonist/antagonist, your side characters, and other background characters. I should emphasize the importance of building character profiles for everyone, including your pre-existing characters from the fandom, but specifically for your original character(s) if you have them. That way, you know who serves as a major plot device, who serves as someone who just helps time move faster, and those who are mentioned by name but have very little significance to the events of the story. I’m going to reference Harry Potter again, since most of the world is familiar with the characters. Harry and Voldemort are the protagonist and antagonist; Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Professor Dumbledore, Hagrid and company are side characters; and Peeves, Seamus Finnigan, and Blaise Zabini are background characters. Keep this hierarchy in check; don’t let your main characters fade away, and don’t let your background characters shift to the forefront for no reason. If you do plan to move a character up or down the ladder, make sure to have clear motive as to why you’re bringing this character into or out of play.

2. POV

Your POV is the point of view in which you’re writing from. Assuming you’ve been in a typical middle school English class, you’ve heard of the first, second, and third person points of view. I cannot tell you how many times I have read fanfictions that jump from one POV to another, sometimes within the same sentence. I open the door and see Kurt Cobain standing in the corner of the room. She walked across the floor to meet him there. See what I did there? I jumped from first person present tense to third person past tense. Do not attempt this at home.

The least common of the three points of view is the second person, or what I like to call the Y/N point of view. In fanfiction, second person POV is often used in self-insert fics, where instead of a character’s name, it’s replaced with “you.” That’s why a lot of romantic character x reader fics are so popular. You should feel free to use this one, especially if that’s the kind of vibe you’re going for, but I’m going to elaborate a little bit more on first and third person, as they’re a bit more “literary.”

The first person POV confines the narration to the mind of one character. It can also be done with multiple characters, but be sure to do it so it’s painstakingly obvious to the reader whose POV you’re writing from. Also note that if you plan to write multiple first person POVs, try to keep that number on the lower side, as a large number of POVs can get really complicated really quickly. Third person narration can be done from two angles: limited or omniscient. Limited is more similar to first person, in which you’re confined to one person’s viewpoint, but they aren’t the narrator; you’re just seeing the story through their eyes. Omniscient is my favorite, because you can narrate from a bird’s eye view with the freedom to travel from mind to mind and read their thoughts.

Building character profiles can be really helpful when developing both first or third person POV; if you connect with a particular character more strongly than the rest, that should tell you whose POV you should write in. If you choose to switch POVs, be sure to do it either on an alternating/rotating basis, or if you repeat, it should be apparent as to why that particular character is the “voice” of that scene.

3. Plot

Dare I say that Plot is the most important step of them all, so do not skip this one, whatever you do! The biggest mistake most fanfiction writers make is having a concept but lacking a plot. It’s like biting into an apple just to discover it’s a lemon. Many writers are capable of starting off strong, but once their initial story begins to meander, traveling into uncharted territory, their brainchild can become a monstrosity.

In order to write a solid plot, it’s pretty common knowledge that you need to have a beginning, middle, and end in place. It doesn’t need to be overly specific or down to the last detail, you just need to figure out how your characters make it from point A to point Z (the larger scale), and how points B through Y factor into the plot (the smaller scale). There are a few routes that you can take in order to do this: you can write the entire thing ahead of time without any input, you can write the entire thing with the feedback of a beta reader or proofreader to help you work out any kinks or mistakes before you publish it for the entire platform to see, or you can publish it gradually and take feedback from your readers as you go. Should you go with the last option, though, you should be made aware that if you aren’t already an established author, it may feel like you’re talking to a wall, and you will likely feel discouraged from writing the story altogether.

I find it helpful to outline the whole thing. I have a closet door in my house dedicated to a Dave Grohl true crime fanfiction I’m working on. I’ve written the entire story from beginning to end on index cards, split into four different parts with each card representing a chapter. What’s good about outlining is that I can edit my story as I go along. If I decide to change something, I can add or remove an index card, then replace or rearrange the other index cards to work around the change I made, and that way, I don’t have to start over from scratch. It’s helpful to see everything laid out in front of me, so I’m not left at the end of a completely improvised plot with a slew of loose ends that I’ll need to go back and edit. It’s also better than publishing each part individually then having to redo everything after your readers have already seen it. And I don’t know about you, but I enjoy it when I’m able to save some time, energy, and lengthy explanations to random people online. That is, unless you enjoy constant feedback from readers, in which case you can change the plot on a chapter by chapter basis based on their feedback.

Consistency in all of these respects is key. I cannot emphasize this enough. Keeping all of these elements in check will help you create a sort of cohesiveness that will neatly wrap the story up with a little bow on top. 

Step 5: Use Relevant Tags and Content Warnings

Repeat after me: tags matter! Again: tags matter! When you’re about to publish your fanfiction, you’re going to be given the option to add tags to your work. For my first few years spent on Wattpad, I had no idea what tags were, so I didn’t use them. Thankfully, the platform was still pretty small, so people still found my work pretty easily. Nowadays, though, it’s nearly impossible to find what you’re looking for without searching excessively specific tags and using a million filters. It’s unfortunate, but look at it this way: there are so many people contributing to so many fandoms that the content is seemingly endless!

What you’re going to want to do is add as many tags as you can but keep it as simple as possible. I know that sounds kind of oxymoronic, but I mean it in a way that all of your tags relate directly to your story, and not just to the fandom itself. A lot of readers feel misled when they’re scrolling through their filtered search page for, let’s just say, a Byler fanfic, and end up neck deep in a Mileven fanfic in disguise. That’s not a fun experience.

Lastly, please remember that you are publishing your work on the internet, and you don’t know who may encounter your work! Listen, we live in a world where everything needs to be overexplained, everything needs trigger warnings, and everything needs to be neutral or else someone is going to hate you. I get it. I’ve been writing fanfiction for a long time. It might be annoying to add content warnings, especially if one of those warnings spoils a major plotline, but if I’m being honest, I’d rather be safe and add the damn warning than not add the warning and be responsible for someone’s worsened emotional or mental state. Bottom line, it’s just fanfiction! Let’s do our due diligence to create a community full of love and understanding for everyone!

After that, you should be all set to publish! Let’s review one more time for the road:

Choose Your Fandom

Do Your Research

Choose Your Platform

Obey the Writer’s Trifecta of Consistency

Use Relevant Tags and Content Warnings

If you’ve stuck around for this long, thank you so much!

I hope this manual helps you along your fanfiction writing journey, wherever it takes you <3

#fanfic #ao3 fanfic #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #female writers #fanfiction #wattpad #ao3 #stranger things fic #byler fic #creative writing #ao3 writer

[ode-to-fanfics]

Welcome to »Ode to Fanfics«

This will be a love letter for fanfiction. I don’t think people talk about enough, how incredible facfiction can be. I almost don’t want to call it fanfiction, because of how often it’s a subject to make fun of »fanatic fans« and how »crazy« people can be to write stories about other stories. And that is just unbelievably narrow minded. Fanfiction has been written since the 19th century (which I just found out during my five minute Wikipedia search) and that was only the »official« fanfiction by »real« authors. But it is so much more than that. Just think about it. People get so inspired to come up with more creative content and write stories that are more often or not longer than real books. Then they publish them and let other people enjoy their stunning work. FOR FREE!? And they don’t get anything other than maybe some comments and likes!? So in the name of all the fanfiction readers. THANK YOU!!

Now I want to give something back to the amazing people that write fanfiction. I’m not a writer myself. I can’t count how many times I was told during school and university that I just wasn’t good (so please be kind to me for writing this). I wasn’t even a big reader. Probably I could count on one hand how many books I’ve read in my teenage years. So for me, it is incredible to think how talented people are to make writing so life-like and make me forget I’m reading all together. Some stories made me cry, some made me laugh and others just made me feel the bone-deep love I have for the characters. And how amazing is it to make people feel so strongly with just words on a page (or in most cases on a small screen)? This is Art. 

So, how am I going to pay such a tribute. Well, I going to either read stories that I haven’t read before or stories that I’ve read so many times already that I lost count. Then I’m going to try writing an Ode for each story and talk about what I enjoyed, what I laughed about, what I cried about or about whatever feeling that occured while reading. 

Probably no one or just very few people will actually read this and who am I to voice my opinions about other peoples work. But maybe, just maybe some will read it and enjoy the stories as much as I do and who knows, maybe some authors will enjoy someone writing about their story. But either way, I try to get over my fear of writing and highlight how amazing other people are at it. 

So welcome and enjoy!

xx

#ode to fanfics #fandom #fanfiction #fanfics #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #johnlock #shipping

[magnorious]

On so-called "ace-erasure" in the Hazbin Fandom

I feel compelled to say something, as a proud ace, regarding the maelstrom of hate and bullying surrounding a fandom I just dipped my toe into, but it concerns the broader concept of fanfic and fanart as a whole.

Y’all. It’s a cartoon. They’re not real people, they’re not based on real people, they exist to be entertainment and to make you smile and sing along and root for their success.

It’s funny how you can look at any straight, cis male in a movie or TV show – whether he be in a happy, healthy straight relationship or otherwise, and the fandom drags his sexuality through the woodchipper in the name of fanfiction.

Oh but there’s queerbating, they’re totally gay even if the writers refuse to admit it. Oh but it’s just for fun. Oh but it’s just wish-fulfillment, it’s not doing any harm. They’re just fictional characters.

Excuse after excuse after excuse for raunchy art and sordid storytelling that can boil over into hating on not only the female characters in these men’s lives, but their female actors.

And yet.

God forbid you drag an ace’s sexuality through the mud for the same exact harmless, wish-fulfilling reasons. Or anyone who isn’t cisgender and straight.

Oh but it’s queer-erasure. It's different because there's already not enough of us and we have to fight for what we have.

No. It’s not. Because you’re not the writer. It’s not your show. So long as the person who made the character proudly defends them and respectfully depicts them, then it’s not erasing anything. Otherwise the thousands upon thousands of wailing fans would have turned some of the most iconic men of fiction into proud gay icons simply by wishing it so.

The whole point of fanfic is being able to see situations, circumstances, and relationships in a what-if scenario. Yes we know this character is straight, or gay, or bi, or pan, or ace or aro, but what if they weren’t for just a few thousand words? Yes we know this is how it happened on screen, but what if it happened a little differently?

It’s supposed to be fun.

I love ace representation. There’s not enough of it and there needs to be more. I want to be able to say See! We exist! Look at us go! with the rest of you.

I also respect shippers doing whatever they damn well please because no matter what they say or do, I can re-watch the show and still see my ace on screen unblemished (as can all the straight viewers who cling to their straight heroes).

Is the motto of fanfic not “don’t like, don’t read?” The amount of nasty comments on incredible art is insane. Don’t like? Don’t look. You’re the one with egg on your face wasting your time and effort typing out and posting that nasty comment. You don’t like it? Scroll on past. Ignore the art and deprive it of the attention the artist posted it for because it’s fanart of fictional characters.

Is this post going to make a difference? No. Am I inviting my own slew of nasty time-wasting comments? Yes. But as an ace who saw an ace and does actually appreciate (if not agree with) the potential in all these what-if scenarios in the right, specific circumstances, I’m fervently siding with those artists who just wanted to draw something pretty and share it with the world.

It’s entertainment. It’s just for fun. Do you really, seriously want this fandom to be looked on from a distance as “oh yeah the violent, bullying nerds that take a cartoon musical way too seriously”? Instead of, I don’t know, “Hey, I want to watch this cool show and peruse some awesome fan content because I can’t get enough of what little we were given, look at how many wonderful options there are.”

#ace pride #acespec #hazbin hotel #alastor

[serevena]

This is in no way an attack at you or anyone that supports Palestine. I think what's happening to innocent people is wrong absolutely. But for people like you to say "Boycott tlou fanfics." And stuff like that whilst having links to tlou fanfics is honestly very hypocritical. How can you say "stop worrying about epussy" but before this strike even started you were doing the same thing us fanfiction writers who like these characters were doing. Us writing for the characters is not supporting the person who created the game directly. you like the characters just as much as we do, so for you to judge someone based off them liking a character is just rude.

I think a lot of people flooding the tag are very hypocritical because we can do so much and, in the end, still get no result as us boycotting may help but it does not get the GOVERNMENT to do anything. I am black, I have experienced racism yet as we boycott and protest there is still hate crimes against us every day. Those people are still going to do what they went to do, unless the GOVERNMENT puts a physical stop to it. I know it may sound very insensitive I just wish that maybe people who are like you would stop calling fanfic writers who write for tlou idiots and stuff when at one point you all did the same things.

I wish to also be educated on the topic so as I have come to you with respect, please do the same, I just want a little more information as this is only my opinion. I asked anonly because I do not want backlash on this because again it may be wrong for me to have this opinion.

I completely understand where you’re coming from but I quite literally said none of this.

I never said to boycott tlou fanfics (I may have reblogged something that said that, not sure). That’s not the issue I was complaining about, I was saying that people are complaining about others spreading awareness about Palestine, and “flooding” the tags. Its disgusting to think about the fact that people find reading fanfics of their favorite fictional character fucking them more important than spreading awareness about a genocide. It’s extremely insensitive.

Yes, I have links to OLD fics. I haven’t written in a long time, and still don’t intend to since spreading awareness is my priority right now. I’m not going to take those down because yes, I wrote porn, but that’s not what I’m doing right now. I’m able to acknowledge that spreading awareness, whether it does anything or not, is so much more important. I in no way called ANY fanfic writer an idiot, and when I wrote what I said; which I still stand by, that wasn’t even directed towards writers. It was directed towards readers who are complaining that since news about Palestine is “flooding” the tags, they can’t read their fanfics, and at the end of the day; it’s not about ‘writers’ and/vs ‘readers’ it’s about being a decent human being.

I also in no way said that writing for these characters is supporting the people who made them directly. Fuck Neil druckmann, I’m sure we can all agree on that. People can read all they want, I can’t control that; but it’s different when they complain about not being able to read their smut fics because people are spreading awareness about something very serious. There’s more important things than just smut. There was a strike. For a week. And they still couldn’t get enough. If people’s lives revolve around just fan fiction and fictional characters, I think that speaks volume and maybe they should go outside and interact ! And i’m sure we can all agree that spreading awareness about a genocide is more important than reading porn. People aren’t gonna die because they didn’t get new smut fics of their favorite character. Even before the strike, i and I’m sure many other people were never this obsessed with porn/fics to the point where we thought it was more important than a genocide.

I appreciate you coming to me respectfully, but please do not put words into my mouth.

#serevena #anonymous #from the river to the sea palestine will be free #free palestine

[emeritus-fuckers]

Hi, feel free to ignore. I don’t know why this is making me panic so much but I’m a writer and I write Sodo being called Sodo instead of Dewdrop, some ghost fans seem to be getting a little mad that he’s not being called Dewdrop and I was wondering why you decided to call him Sodo?

Im unfortunately a chronic people pleaser and this is kind of tearing me apart part, I’m so very confused.

(I admire you very much by the way rat for sticking to your own beliefs and Hc’s and not going against your beliefs to please one person you don’t even know through a screen)

hi!

i believe the reason people get pissy about sodo being called sodo and not dewdrop (bleh) is because the man behind the mask is called the sodomizer and even has a tattoo of the word on his stomach, which leads people to apparently lose their minds because "it's disrespectful" to him by "blurring the line between him and the character" which is just nonsense, honestly.

sodo started out as a bassist, which would make him a water ghoul, so he was named dewdrop because compared to the rest of the band at the time, he was relatively small.

however, he is now the main guitarist. a fire ghoul. i do not see how a fire ghoul would be called dewdrop.

it's even more silly when you realize that papa called sodo that (well, sodomizer, which sodo is a short form of) multiple times. hell, at my own ritual, we were yelling out sodo.

the people behind the ghouls masks are very much aware of what we call them. at least some of them (sodo, aether and phantom definitely) are and they have no problem with being called that. sodo reacts to being called sodo.

fun fact, there was also a discourse about how apparently he's uncomfortable with dewdrop, but from what i've read, it wasn't from him, it was just misinformation which spreads in the fandom at a ridiculously fast pace.

for me personally, there are a few reasons i chose sodo over dewdrop.

one, it's a fucking fire ghoul. i'm not calling a fire ghoul dewdrop.

two, i view switching elements as something similar to being trans. partially because i'm trans myself. calling him dewdrop feels to me like deadnaming him.

three, it's a bit similar to mary goore's pronouns for me. while mary can be a he/they or a they/them, calling mary goore a "he" makes me uncomfortable. calling sodo dewdrop also makes me uncomfortable.

and lastly, i just don't like the name, in all honesty.

in the end, i believe that what he's called will depend on your own opinions and maybe when you joined the fandom, but calling sodo anything other than sodo feels wrong to me, so i'm sticking with that. i do accept asks where he's called dewdrop, but i always call him sodo either way.

if people are getting mad at you for this and making you panic, inform them that this is your choice as a writer and they are free to leave whenever they fucking please. it's your art. as long as it doesn't hurt anyone, you should be free to do anything you please with it. and calling a character a different name isn't gonna hurt anyone, trust me.

the people getting pissed at you probably have nothing better to do with their time. if i can skip a post with sodo being called dewdrop and ignore a post with mary being called a "he", they can ignore your posts/fics if they don't like a name or a headcanon. and if they don't and they seek out drama over something so petty, their opinions aren't worth caring about.

i used to be a chronic people pleaser, too, back when i wrote fanfiction on wattpad. and let me tell you, it made me feel terrible. i was pushing out chapters and publishing pieces i didn't like because people liked them. i was genuinely convinced my work was bad because it made me feel bad to write it.

eventually i decided to let go, completely switched out a fanfic in a way that people hated but also made me much happier. it's your writing and your decisions. other people don't get to dictate that. i'm sticking with my own headcanons because it's my blog. i made this blog. i am the main writer. if you disagree with a headcanon, you can move past my blog and go read someone else's fanfiction.

the best piece of advice that i can offer you, anon, is to remember that you're one of the people you're supposed to please. and the only one that truly matters in the end. if you ever wanna talk about those things, send me an ask on my main and i'll dm you (non-mutuals can't dm me for personal reasons) so we can talk more.

people suck. have fun writing.

- nosferatu

#ask #anon #nosferatu's asks

[my-maehem]

Ok 😅sorry . It's my fault . So rarely used word the taboo , i wrote wrongly . So , the Hogwarts Legacy now lot artists favorite now , painters/writers and i love it . Im reading a lot on AO3 and i dont understand why they why missing from every fanfiction the the "consequence of free love" . Realist , i know but would be huge turn in one story . Only Tamayula drawed Sebastian and Ominis as fathers . One guy shocked on me bec "they're minors" as he said.....yeah 😄they are who's kills , they do threesome or just traditionally (with MC) . They already wrote alrernative universes , same way they do everything...and there is the unspoken baby shield . The MC is a strong wich , only she can use anchient magic . Sebastian and Ominis too camed from strong / talented family . Their child could be more special , stronger bloodline . With the pregnancy whould came the interesting questions : Which one the father , when , how she'll hide from everyone in the 6th year, with illusion charm ? So thatswhy i asked ,why taboo the pregnancy subject for every artist if the "very detailed lovemaking" not shame ? 🥲

I never knew I couldn’t put community label on a ask… so… Warning: NSFW (talking smutty stuff)

You are perfectly fine! Thank you for more context, I think I understand your question more clearly now and oh boy— this is gonna be a long response

Now I wanna point out that I haven’t really read any actual full blown fanfics, at least ones that include underage smut as you’ve mentioned. The closet I’ve ever gotten was one shots and that’s it. I’m not a fanfic writer myself, I’ve only written some random head canons.

BUT! I have drawn somewhat naughty things, although not as smutty as what I’ve seen other artists do 👀 I do have a couple of… some… I guess you could call “teasing” artworks and I will do more but anyways that’s besides the point—

What I get from your ask is: Why don’t artists ever talk about the consequences after these smutty scenes? (Please correct me if I’m wrong)

Which is a fair question! You know if we are talking canon, this is late 1800’s we are talking about. They didn’t have a plan B or a healthy way to abort a pregnancy. But also there is the factor that there’s only a CHANCE you get pregnant. Now unless they’ve written in there fic like 6 smut scenes then yeah— it is a bit unrealistic unless the character is someone who actually can’t conceive any children (which would be so sad and angsty ngl)

Back then having intercourse before marriage was considered a sin, they believed that sex was gate kept by married people only. So… why not have one of the boys ask MC to marry her? Well you see… back then it was very common for young women and in this case girls to marry… but the man had to be 21 or older legally if they wanted to marry someone younger. So the boys can’t marry MC while they’re still in school.

Now, back to the question. Why don’t artists talk about the pregnancy? The truth is, it would probably impact the story in a negative way. Meaning that if MC has a child at 16, then she basically has a ball and chain on her ankle because she was seen as a widow (and many other words) which was seen as a HUGE red flag to others way back then. And the boys can’t do anything about her reputation… they basically just ruined it by making her pregnant before marriage.

““No sex before marriage!””

The thing is that back then it was taboo to talk about pregnancy and even sex for that matter. Specially when they’re young and not married. Those conversations were reserved for when they want to procreate.

Personally for me, I don’t think MC should be having a sex life at the age of 15 or 16. I mean don’t get me wrong, it can STILL happen, just because it wasn’t excepted back then doesn’t mean it never happened. I just don’t think teen mom really fits well with MC (or at least mine). Plus babies, although are cute, can be a huge pain in the ass while you are studying at Hogwarts while beating up poachers and killing trolls with the imperius curse

Now I do over analyze things you can thank my AP teach in hs for that. And this is only an opinion with a hint of research I did. You do not have to agree with me. As an artist I’m not ready to make that kind of content and this is just my way of thinking. I don’t speak for other artists, so if you want to write underage smut, and even a teen mom MC you do you! Don’t let my words dictate what’s right or wrong because in reality of it all, there is no right or wrong.

There can be other factors like:

Artists not feeling comfortable writing about pregnancy

Just wanting to write smut because they can

There might be hidden context that the artist is keeping secret until the right moment

They are literally writing in a AU where pregnancy can be avoided (modern AU for example)

We are talking about an AU where there are witches and wizards, there could easily be something that could prevent a pregnancy if you just make a HC

But I think it just all comes down to artists comfort level. I mean I’m comfortable with adults having kids because it makes sense… but at 15??? Unless they were married which is was very common for young females in the Victorian era, I don’t think MC having a child while still in school would be realistic in that time period. Honestly women going to school is unrealistic too but this is a different AU… things aren’t going to be realistic.

Just some random research I did because I love analyzing things: (this is based off of England)

A woman can get married at a very young age… BUT— the man has to be 21 or older if he wants to marry someone under the age of 21. Because in England of 1823, it was legal for a man and women to marry at the age of 21. Although it seems after 23 men could easily marry a female from 12 and up without parents consent (I know, sickening)

In the Victorian era, although it was common to see young women with older men, the average age a women would have a child is around the age 21-23

Females who got pregnant in their teens were actually punished for their “sins” and were actually forced to put their child up for adoption in some cases

It wasn’t common for people to have premarital sex until 1920

#I really hope this makes sense #I wrote most of this at 2am so my thoughts were a bit all over the place #I will probably edit this as time continues because opinions change… but also I’m not 100% sure if my research is accurate #hogwarts legacy #hphl #hphl mc #hogwarts legacy mc #sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt #sebastian x mc #ominis x mc #sebastian x mc x ominis #I can tag this right? #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts fanfiction #asks #personal

[puredramione]

Why do you ship dramione? I don't get it.

I have debated answering this ask for quite some time. However, I am going to be optimistic and assume that you are inquiring why I ship dramione out of pure curiosity.

If not, then please ignore this post as life is really too short to be sat worrying about what someone else is doing with their time. I apologise this may be lengthy.

Now let’s start with how I got into dramione. My friends at school were constantly talking about fanfiction, at the time I was solely a book reader, iPads and tablets didn’t have the lovely new book smell I craved so I didn’t pay it much attention. I read some fanfiction in 2012, mostly as a dare, I had to read a Snape/Hedwig fanfic, that to this day has really “scarred” me. But to each their own. I admire the creativity of that person.

I started reading dramione in 2013, after much debate about what I should read, I had listed majority of the ship names in my head and “dramione” just sounded right. Like that way you feel when the sun hits you. I cannot be certain of what the first fic I read was now. But I know the first multi-chapter I loved was Isolation by bex-chan.

Now, the reason why I ship it, apart from the nice, insanely talented and just freaking amazing people this fandom has? I would say the end products. I can’t even imagine how these people do it but they do and it’s incredible.

I mean why dramione? Great question, but I don’t actually think I have an answer. Is it possible because I’m a hopeless romantic that would love the idea of someone changing their entire belief system to just be with me? Maybe. Do I like to read that someone can love someone despite knowing all the terrible things they’ve done but decide fuck it? However I think I just always love the stories of characters that just shouldn’t work but do, and do so incredibly.

I see a lot of the times people saying that it’s disgusting shipping dramione cause Draco bullied Hermione, that the idea sickens them. However I think we forget that Hermione isn’t a perfect saint either. Girl physically attacked him and in a way fucked with him psychologically in the books.

And not to get too personal. But I’ve been bullied, and not just name calling etc. At school I would eat lunch in toilets (I know how hygienic?). I went out with a boy who hurt me cause I didn’t know any better. But the difference is….this is fictional. It isn’t intended to hurt someone, if anything these works have brought me immense joy when I was at my lowest and maybe that’s the reason why I ship dramione.

(This is where I’m going to do some shout outs, please only spread love and appreciation, NO HATE!)

We have insanely amazing writers (in no particular order):

@ambpersand / @lovesbitca8 / @senlinyu / @indreamsink / @heyjude19-writing / @galfoy / @willhavetheirtrinkets / @mightbewriting / @colubrina / @cleotheo / @floorcoaster / @pacific-rimbaud / everythursday 💔 (I miss H&V everyday) / @rizzlewrites / @misdemeanor1331 / @ravenslightwrites / @magicaltraveler3

The incredible artists of this fandom:

@avendell / @jaxx-in-a-box / @nikitajobson / @enselius / @darrusha-art / @keerthi-draws / @ladykenz347 / @mia-moriarty-art / @abrilas-art / @efinna / @artfleureia / @ayaka-arts

And honestly any creator that contributes to this fandom, they have helped me during some bad times personally with their works and I’ll always appreciate that!

And honestly I can’t even begin to write how lucky I feel to be part of a fandom with these incredible people to look up to. So if you’re interested jump in and enjoy the ride, if you’re not then I hope you find your passion and it’s just as good. We all deserve to find those things in life that bring us joy.

#ask #dramione

[radiowrites]

2023 Writer Year-In-Review

Hi, I’m RaisedonRadio & FortressofmyPast on AO3 and FF.net. This is an on-going tradition since 2015. Check out my past year-end posts: 2022, 2021, 2020, 2019, 2018, 2017, 2016, 2015.

Tagging a few, but if you come across this, consider it an open tag! You’re welcome to tag me back, I’d love to read it!

@writercorianarose @shesailsships @talesofsorrowandofruin @azdesertwillow @goneahead @littlemissfandomworld @dreams-of-kalopsia @halleyuhm

Big change for me compared to last year—in addition to NaNoWriMo, I actually posted fanfics! I tried to add some new questions to this year’s edition, I hope they might even move out of my tiny circle.

Total Word Counts: 51,920 for 2023 NaNoWriMo 15,570 on 2022 NaNoWriMo project 19,193 for July 2023 Camp NaNoWriMo (mostly fanfics) 28,310 in published fanfics (this number is overlapping with camp nano, I wasn’t paying attention, so I’m not going to add everything together)

Total Number Of Completed Works: 10 Total Number of WIPS worked on this year: 10 or so How Many WIPs do you still have: 23

Looking back, did you write more than you thought you would this year, less, or about what you’d expected? I wrote way more than expected! I seriously didn’t think I would do NaNoWriMo again. And I published ten fics! That’s ten more than last year!

Did you take any writing risks this year? The NaNoWriMo project was definitely a risk for me. I basically had an idea and no outline. It was quite a challenge to my perfectionism issues—I had to basically never reread anything and just keep going, fully aware that I can better foreshadow the ideas that came up halfway through in the next rewrite.

Biggest Surprise: I wrote for NaNoWriMo again, which I was pretty sure wouldn't happen lol, and hit the word count, all through discovery writing, and having very little idea where I was going with it.

Biggest Disappointment: I dropped that above mentioned project the moment November ended! I can tell it has potential, hidden in there. I will definitely return to it.

Do you have any writing goals for the new year? I’d love to at least finish the first draft of the 2023 NaNoWriMo project, bringing it to a tentative end so I can actually reread it and go from there. And keep writing fanfic, and maybe even work on the 2022 nanowrimo project…

Fanfiction Questions Below! (if you don’t write fanfiction feel free to skip or rework the questions for your original works.)

Fandoms I’ve written in this year: I wrote fics for 7 different fandoms! For the following kdramas: Island, Tale of the Nine Tailed, Memorist, Royal Secret Agent, W: Two Worlds, May I Help You?, and a little Korean Web drama called Handmade Love.

Your most popular story of the year? That would be Besides You with 327 hits and 47 kudos. However Superhero got the most comment interaction with 4!

The story that was easiest/or most fun to write: I Think He Knows was fun to write! I do just love brooding with a heart of gold formerly immortal male leads.

Hardest story to write: Rescue Me, Superhero, Restore, and Prayers & Promises were four works that I had left for dead, and came back and found them to be basically finished and just needed proofreading. (So just in case anyone wondered how I turned out three of those in like two days: they were actually done and I was hellbent on getting them out of my WIPs list)

Your sweetest story: That would definitely be Superhero. I altered my normal narrative style to better fit the child’s character, and I was really pleased with how it turned out.

Your saddest scene: I feel like I hit a lot of angst this year, but nothing really sad?

The sexiest moment you’ve written this year? *coughs* I wrote five pieces of smut. (Half of my fanfics were smut this year?!) Umm, I’m torn between Beside You and Don’t Blame Me? But also Never Be the Same and Take On Me???

Your favorite tag: (whether you use it the most or just something witty/perfect for the story) My brother announced to me that he reads all my tags (he was trying to embarrass me about one of my smut pieces) so I did a shout out to him in the next fic. He saw it within the day, I was actually impressed.

Most unintentionally telling story: (have you accidentally or purposefully exposed a detail about yourself?) Religious guilt seems to be a reoccurring tag this year. In all seriousness, not quite sure why, but yet it kinda makes sense? (its complicated lmao) And for some reason not one, but two fics ended with marriage proposals?! (I’m so single.)

Are any of your fics named after/heavily inspired by music? I’m RaisedonRadio and it would be concerning if—checks list—less than 8 of the 10 fics weren’t named after songs, haha! (I’m actually just really bad at naming fics…)

Good To You and Besides You are both songs by the band Marianas Trench, and are heavily inspired by the songs. Rescue Me is by OneRepublic, one of those more vibes than lyrics inspired. I Think He Knows by Taylor Swift was definitely on repeat for that fic, as well as Don't Blame Me. (Poems), Prayers, and Promises was more a steal the name of the song by John Denver, for some reason I think Cold by Corbyn was on repeat when writing that one. Take On Me was named more for the similarities between the MV and the series! Never Be The Same was for the vibes of the song by Camila Cabello but not really the lyrics.

What’s your own favorite story of the year? Maybe it’s cheating but I’m not sure if I can really choose? I know it’s not a common writer sentiment but I really do like them all for different reasons.

Like I churned out Good To You and Besides You within ten days of each other in July, after not writing any fanfic basically for a year and a half.

And then I pulled Rescue Me out of the dead drafts pile and made myself work on more description.

I Think He Knows was my first foray into a brand new fandom.

Don’t Blame Me is one of my rare canon divergence fics.

Restore was another dead draft that I found to be mostly complete, and decide to release into the world even if I knew there was so much more I could have done with it.

Prayers and Promises was not only another new fandom, but for some reason, I decided to write for a side character. It’s still sitting on just 1 hit and that makes it all the better that I really wrote it for myself.

Superhero was out of my comfort zone of writing for a kid’s perspective and I was so happy with how it turned out.

Take On Me was a draft sitting at less than 1k words and I challenged myself to finish it before the new year, and got it done in two days.

And then, to finish it all off with the intense desire to have ten fics under the belt for 2023, I wrote Never Be The Same in less than two days for the last drama I had watched, and the speed that the last two fics were actually finished was a huge change for me.

Fanfiction risks you took this year? I wrote fanfic for not one, but two fandoms that I had to create the first tags for on AO3! Also, as I started to slip into just writing for kdramas this year, I’ve basically become my own proofreader and editor at this point. Any mistakes are my own, lol.

My favorite part of fandom this year: That would be getting two kudos and a comment on I Think He Knows, one of the fics that is the first in its fandom tag. To actually connect with more fans of such a tiny project was so cool!

Thanks for reading and here’s to next year!

#fic in review #writer year in review #fanfiction #radiowrites #raisedonradio #fortressofmypast

[hayleythesugarbowl]

You Can’t Change the Past || a short story inspired by elena of avalor

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ masterlist ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ summary: Jacques, Chancellor of Emelda, plagued by regrets, is used to helping his cousin run her kingdom. But when he meets some ghosts of his past and a villain returns is he ready to face it all?

word count: 6k

warnings: the formatting is a little funky!!

a/n: ok so i know i usually post x reader fanfiction but this is a short story i wrote when i was 14 (see also this cover art i did when i was 14) and I recently came upon it so i figured i’d post it here for you guys to see inside of young-me’s mind (I haven’t completely read through it since then so keep that in mind). this a very loose ripoff of elena of avalor so please also keep that in mind. little me didn’t quite understand the word copyright so we’ll just call it a little elena of avalor fanfic with name changes!! if you aren’t familiar with eoa, even better. forget i said any of that stuff about copywriting and just enjoy this fic that I myself made up entirely and marvel at my creative abilities. either way, let’s laugh at me together!! all jokes aside, all credit to the writers of Elena of Avalor, this is by no means my own thing. also i do apologize this is so long, you have my full permission to skim. i implore you <3💌🍓🩰

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cold, empty, lifeless, Emelda was a small, mystical kingdom just outside of one of Spain’s main cities. It was spring, and normally Emelda was beautiful, lush, enchanting, and had crowded streets full of busy merchants and giddy tourists. But to anyone who had never seen this once flourishing city, it looked deserted as if no one had lived in it for many years. It was as if one busy day, everyone had fled suddenly, leaving everything forlorn. Hardly any people were in the marketplace other than the occasional runaway or stiff guard. Dark shadows filled the streets and not one sound could be heard. The only place that seemed to show any signs of life, was the elegant palace that sat on a hill overlooking the town. This palace was beautiful with marble walls and a sparkling, refreshing looking moat surrounding it. Tourists who walked into this castle were always dazzled by its display. It looked dignified, but cozy and inviting, or it used to. Now the palace was bare, dull, and even sinister. This is because the woman who now sat on the throne liked things bare, dull, and even sinister. This woman’s name was Francessi. Francessi’s appearance matched her evil disposition. Her pine green dress stuck tightly to her slender body. Her long black hair fell below her waist and crowded her pale pinched face. Francessi’s eyes were a dark, dark piercing green. A wand was clutched tightly in her hand. Francessi gazed at her castle in triumph. After she took care of the king and queen, she had all the guards take anything with any trace of cheer, or bright colors out of the palace. Francessi was ruthless. She was unforgiving. She had no mercy.

“Jacques!” Francessi yelled in her low raspy voice to her loyal and most trusted assistant. A man sheepishly entered the room. He stood by the cold-blooded queen’s throne ready to obey her every command. There was a hint of regret in his eyes.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

*****

“Jacques.” Jacques awoke with a start. He had barely slept that week. In fact, he had barely slept at all ever since he had taken up the job of Chancellor of Emelda, and this wouldn’t be the first time he had fallen asleep at the breakfast table.

“Jacques,” Christina said again, “I was going to take a walk around Emelda after breakfast, if you would like to come along.” Christina smiled at Jacques. She wore a flowing blue dress with white flowers painted on it. She had caramel skin and chocolate brown eyes. Christina’s silky cocoa hair was pulled into a high ponytail atop her head.

Jacques sighed, “I told you I don’t have time for useless recreational activities; there is work to be done.”

He picked a piece of lint off his jacket. Jacques wore a deep red coat buttoned up to his neck. A blue and yellow sash with the word “Chancellor” printed on it ran across his chest. His pitch-black hair hung loosely over his light brown face. Everything from Jacques’ tall black boots to his thin mustache reflected his uptight nature. Christina’s not cut out to be queen, Jacques thought. She didn’t take her work seriously, and in his opinion, nobody that innocent and naïve should be running a kingdom. At the young age of 16, Christina had recently been crowned queen and welcomed back into Emelda. After her parents were killed, and the previous queen was banished and sentenced to death, Christina was the only heir to the throne. As soon as the image of that witch entered Jacques mind, he felt a pang of guilt. He was reminded of the dream he had just awoken from. Jacques groaned. This dream had been haunting him for a year now. He had predicted that once that wretched queen was sent out of the kingdom never to return, he would shake the guilty feeling he always carried around, but still everything reminded him of that dark time.

“Well, do you maybe want to take this breakfast outside and enjoy the sunshine then?” Christina asked, bringing Jacques out of his thoughts. She looked at him with pleading eyes. Jacques had plenty of work he would rather be getting back to, but Christina looked so desperate to spend time with him that he couldn’t help but say yes. She was his little cousin after all. Jacques was also all the family Christina had left, and he understood she missed her parents. There came the guilt. Jacques knew it wasn’t his fault Christina’s parents had been killed. It was Francessi’s of course, but he still couldn’t help but feel responsible. He decided to drop the matter for now.

“I’ll help you carry the plates,” Jacques said to his cousin. Anything to take his mind off the past.

“The weather’s beautiful today!” Christina exclaimed as she and Jacques stepped out, carrying the plates, onto the front steps leading out of the palace.  Stretching out in front of them was the marble bridge that led from the castle high up on the hill, to the cozy town below. From here Christina and Jacques could see the whole kingdom laid out below them like items from a dollhouse. Jacques followed Christina’s gaze and saw that she was right; the weather was beautiful. The town was lively with people shopping and selling at the markets. Children were running through the streets carelessly, occasionally bumping into an annoyed merchant or cart full of fruit. Their laughter could be heard all the way up at the palace. The trees were just blossoming in the fresh air and a few small piles of snow that hadn’t melted were the only traces of winter. A slight wind blew through the trees and ruffled the feathers of the elegant birds.

“It is beautiful,” Jacques mumbled almost in a whisper. He sat down on the steps by Christina and continued to pick at his pancakes. For a while nobody spoke, and the two cousins just sat there and listened to the chatter of the townspeople and the chirping of the birds.

“My mother always said that if you looked down at the bustling village, and all the people beneath you, you would feel like the whole kingdom was yours,” Christina described finally.

Jacques chuckled, “I remember. Your father would always remind her that the whole kingdom was theirs.”

“And then my mother would say that the kingdom wasn’t theirs, they just watched over and protected it,” Christina narrated wistfully. She stared down at the town, “My parents always told me that one day I’d protect Emelda and keep it safe, and now I’m queen. I can’t believe it. I always imagined that I’d be as old as them before I became queen.”

And now she’s queen, Jacques thought. What he thought was that Christina wasn’t exactly protecting the kingdom, as he did most of the work.

“It seems like just yesterday you were crawling around the palace, hiding behind the curtains at bedtime,” Jacques said, instead of how much of the kingdom’s paperwork do “you” take care of?

“Old people always say things seem like just yesterday!” Christina snickered.

“Old?” Jacques challenged. At 47 with only a few gray hairs, Jacques didn’t consider himself necessarily old. Qualified to rule Emelda, yes. Old, no.

“Ok, I guess you’re not as old as,” Christina thought for a moment, “Agatha, the lady who always sells the spoiled milk and rotten fruit.”

“Or Martha the Maid!” Jacques announced playfully.

Christina giggled, “Or bitter Francessi!” Christina’s smile suddenly faded. Jacques grew quiet. The birds sang louder. “I miss them,” Christina said to her cousin. Jacques missed them too. He knew, of course, that he missed Christina’s parents more than Christina knew. “I just wish that I got to see them one last time, you know, before I was taken away for 10 years.”

“The guards took you away because they knew it wasn’t safe for you to stay in Emelda,” Jacques reiterated, more reserved now, “And they were right.”

“I know,” Christina answered, “I can only think of how different things would have gone if my parents left with me in that carriage. That reminds me, Jacques, when Francessi took over did you…”

“You can’t change the past,” Jacques interrupted bitterly, “Your parents stayed in Emelda to try and defeat Francessi and look where it got them. You said their job was to protect everyone. Well they failed, and it cost them their lives. Now you have been hastily left in charge, setting your parents’ kingdom, the kingdom they kept safe, up for failure once again.”

“You can’t change the past,” Jacques said again almost to himself, “no matter how much you wish it were so.” He walked up the stairs and shut the palace door behind him. With that he was gone.

Christina sat on the stairs in shock. You can’t change the past she repeated, as she tried to finish her pancakes.

Jacques walked through the castle doors. He hurried through the numerous rooms absently, while still obtaining good posture. Jacques scarcely looked around him. When he found himself in the throne room, he hesitated and stared at the regal looking throne sitting in the center of the room. He closed his eyes for a second, then continued walking, and didn’t stop until he reached his office.

Jacques collapsed into the chair at his desk. Work, he thought. Work always clears my head. Jacques started flipping through the pages on his desk but couldn’t stop thinking about Francessi. He looked for a pen but could only think of Christina, and as he tried to sign peace treaties with the neighboring kingdoms, thoughts of how he had blown up at his cousin filled his head. Jacques rolled his eyes. There was no way he was going to get any work done. Usually his royal duties were his favorite, and most time consuming, part of the day. Jacques wished he could just forget this whole day, but since he couldn’t, might as well try to collect his thoughts. He pondered Christina. He knew he would never do anything to harm her, at least not intentionally. Jacques remembered what he had declared to her, you can’t change the past. He was telling this just as much to himself as he was to Christina. He thought about Christina’s job as queen. Christina wasn’t going to fail Emelda, not with Jacques as Chancellor. He also knew that his cousin’s friends had all fled the kingdom or been killed, so the least he could do was help her. Jacques paused and remembered his old friend and associate, wondering where he was now.

He stared at the papers on his desk; this was going nowhere. The only thing he could think of doing was apologizing to Christina. Jacques didn’t have any better ideas, so he walked out of his office. It had been about half an hour since he had last seen his cousin, and he figured she was probably up in her room. The Chancellor had only walked a few steps when the doorbell rang. He decided his apology would have to wait. He couldn’t say whether he was disappointed or relieved.

Jacques walked rapidly down the grand stairs to the front door. As soon as he opened the door and looked at who was standing on the front steps, he wished he had ignored the doorbell completely. Standing at the door, smirking, was a man with a pine green blazer. A yellow scarf peeked out from under his shirt, like a mustard spill. His black-gray hair was slicked back, and it looked like he had put some of his leftover hair gel on his sharp goatee. Green eyes sparkling with pride, this was a man Jacques had hoped he would never see again.

“Hola,” the man said grinning, “old friend.”

“Why?” Jacques was having trouble finding his words, “Why are you here, Manuel?”

“Guess,” Manuel smirked. He stood there calmly, but his presence was sketchy, and it was unsettling.

Jacques composed himself, “Oh, I don’t know. To laugh at me? To borrow something of mine and then never return it? Steal from the queen?”

“Queen?” Manuel asked “Christina lived?”

“Yes, she lived but that’s not the point. I demand to know why you are back in Emelda.”

“Well, you know, I just thought since I’m no longer banished,” Manuel snarled. “I’d come back, visit the kingdom, take a vacation, and see my old and dear friend, El Segundo.”

Jacques adjusted his sash, “Nobody calls me El Segundo anymore; that was just my childhood nickname meaning ‘The Second’ because…”

“Because when we used to have races in the hallways of the castle, you’d always come in second,” Manuel cooed.

“Yes, well people call me Chancellor of Emelda now,” Jacques said, “because while you abandoned Emelda, and went running around breaking into people’s homes, I have been running a kingdom.”

“Abandoning Emelda and running around breaking into people’s homes?” Manuel repeated, “You know perfectly well that I didn’t abandon the kingdom, and I only stole to stay alive. If I’m not mistaken, you are the one who betrayed your kingdom, eh? If I recall correctly, you stayed in power while everybody else, including me and Christina, suffered.” Jacques stiffened. He knew there was no truth to this statement, right? “What do you have to say for yourself now, Chancellor?” Manuel mocked.

“I’ll ask you one more time, Manuel; why are you here?”

Manuel rolled his eyes, “I see you’re still as stubborn as ever. Same party-pooper attitude, now you just have a fancy-pants jacket and a custom-made sash to go with it. But if you must know why I’m here, look in the carriage.”

Manuel noticed for the first time that behind his old companion, sat a horse-drawn carriage. This carriage was stunning. It was a creamy white color with golden trim and sparkling gold wheels. The driver looked confused, as if he had just woken up and been put at the reigns. A window was carved into the side of the carriage, but a set of pine green curtains covered it so nothing could be seen inside.

Jacques looked at Manuel blankly, but Manuel nodded his head in the direction of the carriage. Jacques looked again. This time as he looked carefully, he could see something in the window. A hand pulling back the curtain ever so slightly. A pale slender hand with pine green nail polish. A familiar hand. Past the hand were a pair of dark, dark green eyes that Jacques felt were piercing him. The rest of this person couldn’t be seen, but Jacques could tell they were grinning from ear to pale ear. Jacques couldn’t see the rest of this person’s body, but he didn’t have to. He gasped. “It couldn’t be!” 

Manuel laughed triumphantly, “You’re not the only one who can partner with Francessi.”

“This isn’t possible; Francessi was banished and sentenced to death!” Jacques looked at Manuel, but he merely shrugged and leaned casually against the doorway.

“Francessi has her ways,” Manuel announced. “You know that wand isn’t just for show. You know how powerful it is, and how many lives were lost because of it.”

“Of course,” Jacques responded, “but that doesn’t explain why you’re working for Francessi.”

Manuel snorted, “Come on! You know more than anyone that Francessi has no mercy. You know that even if you try to fight her, she overpowers you. You know that no matter who you are, or what you believe in, at the end of the day you must stay alive. You know more than anyone that if you can’t beat them, join them.”

Jacques looked past Manuel at Francessi scheming in the carriage just feet away from them and shivered, “That’s still no excuse…” Jacques paused.

“No excuse to what?” Manuel continued, “Do you not remember when you used that same excuse to justify…”

Now it was Manuel’s turn to be interrupted. “Who’s there?” a voice called. The voice was Christina. She walked carefully down the stairs.

“Christina!” Manuel called, immediately changing his tone, “It’s been so long since I’ve seen you!”

Christina looked confused, “I’m sorry, have we met?”

Manuel smiled a fake smile, “I’m not surprised you don’t remember me. The last time I saw you, 10 long years ago, you were only a little girl. My name is Manuel Montoya, and I am your cousin’s oldest friend.”

“Manuel Montoya!” Christina remembered. “My parents used to invite you over for dinner almost every night.”

“The more the merrier, they would say,” Manuel added.

“Yes,” Jacques piped in, “you would always eat the food that Christina’s hard-working parents put on the table.” Christina frowned at Jacques.

“It seems like so long ago we were all sitting around the table laughing together, you know, before I was banished for 10 years,” Manuel reported, glaring at Jacques.

Christina sighed, “It seems like everyone in the kingdom was banished for a long time. Francessi caused us all much grief, but she’s gone now.” Jacques knew she was far from gone, and closer than they knew, but he didn’t feel like Christina would believe him. Not after he insulted her. Jacques thought about the whole truth and realized that there were parts of it he didn’t want his cousin to know. Besides, Manuel would probably have some scheme of his own to make sure nobody else knew that he had brought a villain back to Emelda. In fact, Jacques didn’t even know why Francessi or Manuel were here. All he knew was that Victor was shady, suspicious, and a con man. He had to figure out Manuel’s plan.

“It’s such a relief that witch is gone,” Manuel agreed, glancing over at the carriage that had brought him and his “companion” to Emelda.

Christina noticed Manuel’s glance, “That’s a beautiful carriage.”

Manuel looked around nervously, “Yes, well I’m very tired after my journey; maybe the Chancellor would like to invite his old pal in.” Jacques opened his mouth to speak, but Christina ushered Manuel in. Jacques knew Manuel just wanted to make sure Christina didn’t see the carriage, and its wicked occupant, but Christina was already showing Manuel to the dining room table. Jacques sighed, but followed them.

“…and this is where we all used to sit when my parents were done working for the day,” Christina was finishing.

“This all brings back so many wonderful memories!” Manuel said. “Which reminds me, Christina, on my way to the palace I saw a shop selling raspberries. Would you care to go and get some, and maybe bake one of your mother’s famous raspberry pies for us to enjoy later?”

Jacques figured Christina would refuse, saying that she could do that later and instead they should all spend some time together. Jacques was wrong.

“I’d love to! I’ll get going, and tonight we’ll have raspberry pie to celebrate the return of an old family friend.” Christina pranced out of the dining room towards the front door.

“I can’t wait; take your time!” Manuel called out. Jacques could tell he was impatient for Christina to leave. As soon as the two men heard the door close, Manuel folded his hands. “Alright Chancellor,” he began, “now that your ignorant cousin is gone, let’s talk business. It might surprise you to know that I’m not really in Emelda to visit an old acquaintance.” It didn’t surprise Jacques at all. He knew from the moment he opened the door that Manuel wasn’t simply here to vacation. “It may also surprise you to know that Francessi is weak now,” Manuel continued, ignoring Jacques’ silence.

Now this surprised Jacques. He frowned. Francessi, weak? He thought back to all his memories of the evil queen and couldn’t ever imagine calling her weak. Jacques might have reminded Manuel of this if Manuel had not, enjoying Jacques’ puzzled expression, kept rambling.

“Yes, Francessi is weak, which is why she needs me, and I need you.”

“Manuel, just tell me why you’re here.” Jacques was growing impatient himself.

“Ok, ok,” Manuel leaned back in his chair, “so desperate. Well I’m sure you know how it all began. Francessi took over the kingdom. Ten long years ago a powerful witch invaded Emelda and the nation suffered. She banished almost everyone. She killed the king and queen. She shut down Emelda. And when she did, I was sent out with no money, no home, and no hope.” Jacques rolled his eyes. Manuel always had a flare for the dramatic. Besides, Jacques already knew how the story Manuel was telling went and didn’t see the point in him telling it.

“Manuel, I was there when Francessi took over.”

“You certainly were,” Manuel said. “While I was trying to stay alive like everybody else, you were living in luxury. You were only thinking of yourself. You partnered with Francessi! You betrayed your family!”

Jacques gasped. He didn’t know what to say. “I didn’t partner with Francessi.”

Manuel continued, “No, you didn’t partner with her. You worked for her. You became her minion, which is exactly what I am doing now. Since you have a history with Francessi, I figured you would understand my dealing with her. After all, it was your idea.”

“It was not my idea. Do you think I don’t regret working for the woman who killed Christina’s parents?” Jacques asked. He could feel his ears burning.

Manuel ignored Jacques, “Why don’t you just calm down and let me finish my story. Anyway, after 10 brutal years enough people finally fought against Francessi and were able to overthrow her. When they did, she was sentenced to death. Banished, just like everyone else. She was weak. Well, I found Francessi and agreed to get her out of her punishment if she would let me assist her. I only wanted to stay alive, and so did she. Once I started to carry out Francessi’s orders, I found out the reason Francessi was weak. She didn’t possess her wand. The only reason why she couldn’t come right back and take over Emelda, was she didn’t have the wand that did all the work. If she had her weapon, you and your dim-witted cousin would be exiled, or worse. That is, unless you decide to support Francessi to get out of your mess again. The bottom line is, Francessi needs her wand. Which brings me to the plan. The part that involves you. Francessi has been looking all over the country for a material, a kind of jewel that can replace her old wand. So far, we haven’t had any luck. Until we came to Emelda. Francessi believes she has found the material that will work. The deep blue sapphire on Christina’s crown.”

Jacques paused for a moment to take all this in. Learning that the only thing stopping Francessi from stealing the kingdom was a crown that sat in the Royal Treasury, was more than unnerving. He thought back to that morning, and everything that had happened seemed petty now. What Jacques didn’t want to think about was how Manuel’s behavior seemed familiar. Desperate, revengeful, trying to stay alive, doing the bidding of an evil queen. Jacques could see parts of himself in Manuel’s plan, and he didn’t like it at all. What Jacques thought of instead wasn’t any less upsetting. Christina’s crown had belonged to her mother. He knew she wouldn’t hand it over to Francessi, and he told Manuel so.

“Oh, I don’t think you understand,” Manuel replied, “nobody’s handing over anything. Christina can’t know that Francessi is here. Why do you think I sent her to get those fake raspberries? No, Christina is not going to give Francessi her crown. I am. I will give the crown to Francessi, right after someone gives it to me. You. You are going to steal Christina’s crown.”

“I will do no such thing.”

“Oh, but I think you will,” Manuel countered, “because if you don’t steal that crown for me, old friend, I will tell Christina the truth. The truth about you. The truth about how you betrayed her. The truth about how you conspired with the enemy.”

Jacques froze. Steal from Emelda or tell Christina how he abandoned Emelda. Both seemed like betrayal. He would like to say Manuel wouldn’t dare, but he wasn’t sure.

“Speechless, El Segundo?” Manuel asked, “Well how about this, I’ll give you until tonight to make your decision. If you don’t give me the crown by tonight, I’ll expose you and all your secrets to your dear cousin. I’ll give you some time to think it over. Decide wisely.” With that, Manuel strutted out of the room. Jacques could hear the front door shut and the sound of the horse-drawn carriage rattling away. He figured Manuel probably had stolen a hut somewhere to wait with Francessi while Jacques thought things over. But he would be back. Back with Francessi in time for Jacques to deliver Christina’s crown. Or not; not if Jacques told the truth.

Jacques thought about Christina, looking in the market for raspberries she would never find. He sighed. He pictured the crown sitting in the Royal Treasury, and then he thought of the decision he had to make by tonight. Jacques imagined Christina’s reaction upon being told her only family member had abandoned her in order to gain power and security. He cringed. Stealing wouldn’t be so bad. Christina was out in the village, so she wouldn’t catch him. But then he remembered what would happen if he stole the crown. Francessi would use the sapphire on it to create a new wand, gain power once again, and take over the kingdom. What would become of him then? Jacques figured as a last resort he could, perhaps, work for Francessi again. He didn’t like to think that he could be persuaded to join a villain so easily, but he wouldn’t join her, right? What would happen to Christina? Emelda? He couldn’t imagine knowing he was the cause of Francessi’s redemption. Especially after what had happened last time. But then he thought of Christina. Innocent Christina not being able to trust him. Would he be fired from the position of Chancellor and not be able to do the kingdom’s work? He had no idea what to do.

Jacques stood up from the table. He decided to walk towards the Royal Treasury and think. Jacques opened the grand treasury doors that towered over him. When he stepped in, he was blinded by the sparkling jewelry and treasure laid out in cases, stands, and tables. The large windows let in all the shining sunlight. Amid all these valuables was Christina’s crown. It sat in the middle of the room on a grand podium made of solid gold. The crown sat majestically in the room, the light dancing off its deep blue sapphire. Jacques had been in this room before, but not often, and he was dazzled by its charm. He took a couple unsteady steps toward the crown. When Jacques was close enough to see his reflection in the crown’s jewel, he frowned. The man looking back at him looked troubled, like he had been 10 years ago. He wondered if Christina was right about him being old. Jacques took a deep breath. He took his hands out of his pockets and gently lifted Christina’s crown off the podium. Jacques held it carefully in his hands and felt its weight. He walked out of the treasury and headed toward his office to figure out what to do next. Jacques opened the door and standing there staring at him was Christina. He jumped, almost dropping the crown that had belonged to Christina’s mother. He anticipated that Christina wouldn’t be back for at least another hour. Jacques was caught.

“What are you doing with my crown?” Christina was as surprised as Jacques.

Jacques was stuck. “I was just…taking it out to clean it, as part of my job as Chancellor of Emelda.” He hoped this would work. Lucky for him Christina was trusting. Trusting for now.

“Oh, ok then. Well, I’ll let you get back to it. I just got back from town; I didn’t find the raspberries. Hey, where’s Manuel?”

“He, uh, went to the house he is staying at while in Emelda. He said he was exhausted.”

Christina nodded slowly. Jacques hurried past her, leaving her standing at the door to the treasury. Once Jacques was in his office, he locked the door and slumped into his chair for the second time that day. He set the crown down on his desk and examined it. He had stolen the queen’s crown. It didn’t feel right, even though he hadn’t actually left the palace with it. Manuel would be back tonight, waiting for Jacques to hand over the crown. He had time to think about what had just happened and what would happen, but he didn’t want to. He got up and flopped down on his bed. Francessi could take over Emelda again, he thought, and then he was out cold.

Jacques awoke to the sound of a low rumbling coming from outside. He thought it was thunder. It was Francessi. That was worse. The sun was just rising over the mountains. Night had passed. Jacques was late, but so was Manuel. Jacques watched the carriage pull up to the front of the palace. He sat up. The crown was still on his desk. Regret filled him. Grabbing it, Jacques walked down the stairs reluctantly. He hid the crown in one of his pockets right before opening the door. Manuel was there staring at him.

“We meet again.” Manuel rubbed his chin. “Have we made a decision?” Jacques had made a decision. He decided that he wanted Manuel out of Emelda. He decided that he didn’t want Christina to find out about his betrayal, and he decided that stealing the crown, and helping Francessi once more, was the wrong thing to do. Jacques had made many decisions, just not the one Manuel was looking for.

“Well,” Manuel waited, after Jacques didn’t answer him, “are you going to hand over the crown?” Jacques didn’t answer once more, he just straightened his back and grabbed onto the item in his pocket. He pulled the crown out of his coat and showed it to Manuel.

Manuel beamed, “Good decision, partner, good decision. I’ll be taking this,” he announced pulling the item from Jacques’ grip. Jacques looked at the floor. Helpless, he thought. The same feeling he had tried to avoid the last time he helped Francessi. “Well,” Manuel said, as he examined the crown, “I can’t keep Francessi’s waiting.” He walked over to the carriage and drew back the curtain for the first time. There was Francessi, pale, powerless, and staring daggers at Jacques. Francessi’s hair had turned from black to pure white. She was older than the last time Jacques had seen her, but so was he. Anything Jacques wanted to do; it was too late. Manuel handed Francessi the crown. She cackled and broke the sapphire off the crown and threw the rest to the ground shattering it. Francessi pulled out her old broken, dusty wand and stuck the sapphire on top. The wand illuminated the carriage. Francessi let out another sinister laugh and stepped out of the carriage. The wand worked fast. Francessi’s hair immediately turned a dark black, like ink being poured onto a blank page. Her wrinkles faded, and she drew up to her full height. It was transfixing, but terrifying to watch. Francessi walked up to Jacques, who took more than a few steps backwards.

“Thank you, Jacques.” She smirked. “I couldn’t have done this without you. As soon as the kingdom is mine once more, I will make sure to reappoint you as my royal assistant!” Jacques didn’t know what to feel. Terrible, relieved, guilty, petrified. Francessi started to say something else, probably about herself, but at that moment Christina walked into the doorway. Jacques felt history repeating itself in many ways. Christina screamed.

“Hello Christina, enjoying your job as queen?” Francessi said, “You won’t have it for long. What do you say you hand it over to me?” She pointed her wand at a frightened Christina. All Christina managed to get out was How? “How?” Francessi responded, “Why don’t you ask your cousin. We couldn’t have done it without him.” Christina soon realized that “we” meant Francessi and Manuel. She gasped at Manuel, but he just shrugged and leaned against the carriage.

“Jacques, what is she talking about?” Christina asked. Jacques looked at Christina. She looked back, but Jacques couldn’t answer her.

“I’ll tell you what she’s talking about,” Manuel piped in, “Jacques gave the kingdom to Francessi. He stole your crown and gave it to me. That is how her wand is back to its former glory. He was afraid the truth would come out if he didn’t steal from you, but the truth always has a way of coming out anyway. Christina, when Francessi took over this land 10 years ago, you and I, along with all the other Emeldians, suffered. But Jacques stayed in power. Your cousin answered Francessi’s every command in order to stay in Emelda and avoid being hurt. He betrayed you and everyone else in this kingdom. Some Chancellor.”

Christina looked at Jacques, “Is this true?” Jacques didn’t even care that Manuel had broken his end of the deal; he just needed to figure out what to tell Christina. Jacques opened his mouth to speak, but Manuel beat him to it.

“Of course, it’s true! And look, he’s let you down again, all because he was too afraid to face the truth and fess up to you. Well it’s over now, Francessi will take over Emelda once again, and this kingdom will fall!” Christina looked at Jacques and then turned away. She burst into tears. Jacques looked at Manuel in despair. Francessi stepped forward again.

“Yes, Manuel, thank you but I can handle my own tyranny now. But it’s true, Jacques is a traitor,” Francessi revealed, her hands on her hips. “Well, now that my wand is fixed, and Christina is in shock, the only thing left is to become Queen of Emelda. Now stand aside and let me finish this! Christina, unless you want to end up like your poor parents, I suggest you get out of my way,” Francessi aimed her wand at Christina. Jacques couldn’t take it. This was all his fault. All of it. There was no way he was going to get banished, but he wasn’t going to serve Francessi either.

He stepped forward and smacked the wand out of Francessi’s hand. She gave a cry of frustration. The wand landed on the ground halfway between Manuel and Jacques. Francessi started yelling at Manuel, telling him about the consequences of him not retrieving the wand. Manuel lunged for it, but Jacques beat him to it. He stepped on the wand, shattering the sapphire into thousands of tiny pieces. Francessi looked wildly at Jacques but as soon as the wand broke, she fell to the ground, crippling to the old woman she was without the wand to give her strength. Manuel hurried her into the carriage and got in, defeated.

“Until next time old friend,” Manuel said, and with that, he and his villainous boss were gone.

Jacques sighed with relief and frustration. Everything had happened so fast. Francessi was no longer a threat, but he still had the problem of his cousin.

“Christina, what Manuel said about me betraying Emelda, you should know that I only…” Christina hugged Jacques.

“It doesn’t matter,” Christina said gently, “you saved me from Francessi’s wand and stopped her from destroying the kingdom again. Whatever happened in the past, well, that’s in the past. Even if you can’t change it.” She smiled at Jacques.

Jacques looked at Christina and smiled back. Maybe she wasn’t the best queen or the best at running a nation, but she made a pretty good cousin. He watched the fading figure of Francessi and Manuel’s carriage until it disappeared. Jacques looked down at the kingdom of Emelda. He looked at the enormous palace behind them. He looked at Francessi’s wand, hopelessly smashed on the ground. You can’t change the past, Jacques thought, and maybe he didn’t have to.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ˋ°•*⁀➷ if you made it though all 6k of that, you deserve a medal. here: 🏅it’s not quite a recompense, but it’s close <3

#writing #fanfiction #elena of avalor #creative writing #fanfic #let’s make fun of me together #say what you want about my writing now #but I’ve come a long way

[dappledpaintbrush]

Hello. I've recently stumbled on your blog and found out you were the author of two really cool fan fictions I read for Super Paper Mario a while back on AO3- Just wanted to say you're a really good writer and you're probably one of the few SPM fic authors to write a fic over a 100,000 words- It's some impressive stuff- (I know there are a few "trilogy" fics back on FanFiction.net that amount to around that much when read all together, but I've not come across any individual works as long as yours-)

Do you have any other projects you're working on at the moment? Also, this may sound like an odd question, but...Do you happen to know any good SPM fics to read? I've reread the same ones from nearly over a decade ago- (There aren't that many on Fanfiction.net, I've probably reread nearly every single one there multiple times over the years- Don't get me wrong, I absolutely love a lot of the fics on there, even if a lot of them are silly and OOC-)

I tried looking on AO3 but I haven't found much interesting stuff on there- A lot of the fics seem to be the annoying multifandom type, crack fics or really...small uninteresting fics- (Most of the fics I stumble on write the villains very OOC-) Thank you and sorry-

QJDHAJDJEUWJE?3?:?: AHHXJEHEHE!;!;!;!!!! THABK YOU SO SO MYCH!!!!! <333 I’m so happy you enjoyed my work and thank you for taking your time to tell me so :3

I do have other projects! Thank you sm for asking about that too- Memory 0 on ao3 is another spm fanfic of mine I haven’t finished yet. I also have another spm fanfic called “I Hate You, Please Have a Seat” that is still in the drafts. I also have that shitpost AJL sequel- the ulcer fanfic. I also have a complete rewrite of AJL that I dabble in every now and then, but I’m not taking it too seriously. I also am working on my fourth novel! I’ll be talking about that one more often once it nears completion. I also have an RPG game titled Incisors that I work on every now and then for fun. I also just recently am getting into submitting short stories of mine and whatnot (but admittedly, I’ve only submitted one so far). Sorry for the ramble- I just love writing LMAO

Also, I wish I could answer your question, but I’m… not really a fanfic reader? 😵‍💫 I know that sounds crazy to hear, but I haven’t read fanfiction in a really long time. I’m sorry! 😭 (if anybody knows any, feel free to comment!)

And don’t apologize either! Nothing to be sorry for :3

[strawberryraviegutz]

Idk if it’s common sense but I feel like this needs to be said. I’m a firm believer that character chat bots should NEVER EVER BE A REPLACEMENT FOR FANFICTION. Apparently chat bots aren’t anything new. Like I heard about this one bot called cleverbot that was around in the 2000’s/2010’s I think?? I also started seeing bots of characters starting popping when when I was around 14-16 too. I think they’re just rising to popularity more since ai(which has also sorta been a thing) is becoming more advanced than it was before.

But anyways DO NOT use character chat bots to replace fanfiction PLEASE. As a fanfic reader and writer myself I can tell you bots aren’t the only solution. Fanfiction is really viable when it comes to experimenting with writing and having fun. I use character chat bots myself, but that DOES NOT MEAN that I’ll never read fanfiction again. I very much use both. Especially when content of a character you like is barely out there. Take Envy from Fullmetal Alchemist from example.

Envy is one of the most popular characters in the franchise, with him ranking in number 4 of this one popularity poll back when I wasn’t in the fandom which even surprised the author at how he was ranked so high,and in a recent poll he ranked number 6(should’ve been higher. I wanted to vote but the site was is JP but it’s still sorta a win). But despite Envy’s popularity and the amount of fans and fangirls he has, there is barely any fics of them to come by when it comes to x reader fics and most of the ones I’ve read are pretty much unfinished.

Same goes for Envy x oc content too. When I discovered Character ai or chai I was like “oh wow this is actually kinda cool.” I never intended on replacing fanfiction with them. Lots of people rely on escapism and I’m one of them so I understand. And when it comes to rping with people it’s not that easy. I have roleplayed with my friend sometimes and still sorta do but real people aren’t always available.

Not to mention I’ve heard stories of people having real bad experiences with rping with actual people and even stories that involved grooming. There are even times where I don’t use the bots for days depending on how my mood is or if I just don’t feel like it. I just use the Envy bots to keep me busy while I wait for more fics to pop up. Even though these characters aren’t real, it sorta feels nice..it’s like playing pretend like I’d do when I was little. I always make sure to check the Envy tags here on tumblr, wattpad, Twitter, and and AO3 to see if there’s anything new.(That’s not Envy x minors or Envy x their siblings btw).

I just think up fantasies I usually have and use the bots to rp them.I still wanna write fics with my fma self insert but I’m currently going through the longest and worst burnout. I will never EVER use these things to replace fanfiction.And neither should you guys either.

#fanfiction #character ai #chai #fanfic #ao3 #wattpad #fanfics #selfshipping community #selfshipping

[dcbbw]

I posted 496 times in 2022

166 posts created (33%)

330 posts reblogged (67%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@citizenscreen

@socalledmixtapelife

@choicesficwriterscreations

@angelasscribbles

@ao719

I tagged 80 of my posts in 2022

#dcbbw writes - 41 posts

#dcbbw answers - 28 posts

#writers of tumblr - 5 posts

#six sentence sunday - 5 posts

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#trr au fanfic - 3 posts

Longest Tag: 36 characters

#dcbbw responds black drake discourse

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

A Trio of Tales

This story is my submission for the @choicesprompts​ exercise, where the prompts are story-starters. I chose to weave three(!) stories that probably don’t interconnect, but that was the goal. At this point, I’m just hoping it all makes sense.

It has come to my attention that @harleybeaumont​ and I share at least one head canon regarding Lucretia Nevrakis, and we both have interactions with the world’s worst aunt in our stories for this exercise, but I believe that is where the similarity ends. If anyone has issues with this story, my DMs are open and I’m a pretty reasonable person most of the time.

THANK YOU to all who read over snippets of this fic and THANK YOU to all who will read it. Your likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated more than you know.

Please excuse any and all typos, missing/extraneous words, and/or grammatical errors. (I tried to do a decent edit, but you guys know who you’re dealing with) MS Word Editor gives me 98% error-free.

All characters belong to Pixelberry

Song Inspiration: Hearing Damage, Thom Yorke

Word Count: 4,571

Olivia

The cool wind pushes my hair back as I walk along the familiar path, every step taking me deeper into the past. It’s been years since I’ve been here; everything is different.

Everything is the same.

I’m not paying attention to the present as I walk, I’m too lost in memories of long ago. That’s why I don’t notice the person walking towards me until I hear a familiar voice call my name.

I freeze. It can’t be. What are the odds?

I lift my head as my eyes dart wildly around before finally landing on a face I’d recognize anywhere, even now.

“It’s you.”

I pull my open cardigan tightly across my chest as my left arm reflexively covers my swollen belly. The temperature of my blood drops, rivaling the chilly air. Three feet opposite me, my Aunt Lucretia pulls the hood of her woolen cloak away from her face and hair. Her tall frame is thinner than I remember. Her face, though gaunt, remains unlined. Her eyes are brown flint as they appraise me critically.

My mind races; no one had informed me that she was free. I wonder if she has been released or managed to escape.

“Where are you going, girl?” she demands as if she hasn’t spent the last seven years of her life in a Cordonian prison cell.

I stand straighter, my expression indifferent. “You are on private property. I suggest you leave.”

She smirks at me as she pushes her hands into her coat pockets. “I’m still a Nevrakis. I’m still your blood.”

“When did you get out?” I hear the tremble in my voice, and mentally berate myself for showing fear.

I should have brought Misha with me.

“One week ago. I would have arrived sooner, but I had … business to tend to.”

“You are unwelcome here,” I reply coldly as I resume my walk, sidestepping around her.

She ignores my response and falls into step with me. “You never came to visit me,” she says quietly.

I abruptly halt my steps to look at her incredulously. “You REALLY expected me to VISIT you? You abandoned me as a child, and when you do return, it’s to overthrow the Crown! With me as your pawn!”

“I told you to study your history! You refused to do so. YOU could have stopped everything, but you were too busy chasing after a King who couldn’t be bothered to give a rat’s ass about you! In the end, you had to be a casualty.”

Tears sting the corners of my eyes. “I have had to rebuild the Nevrakis name, ALONE! Our history, my parents …” My voice breaks off as a sob fills my throat.

I convince myself it’s hormones.

Silence, except the occasional chirping of birds and rustling of unseen wildlife hidden in the surrounding brush as we continue our trek to the Nevrakis family cemetery. I am going to visit my parents’ unmarked graves, a journey I haven’t made in years.

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61 notes - Posted September 1, 2022

#4

Late Night Drink

I have no idea what this is (you’ll be hearing that a LOT this year!), so just gonna drop it here and beat feet quicker than Leo running out of Cordonia to return to a cruise ship.

If you read this, I hope you enjoy it. Please excuse any typos, missing/extraneous words, and/or any grammatical errors.

THANK YOU to everyone who saw this in its rough draft stages.

THANK YOU to all who will read, like, comment, and/or reblog. Your feedback is appreciated far more than you will ever know.

Characters belong to Pixelberry.

Song Inspiration: Lonely After Curfew, Sophia Bel: https://open.spotify.com/track/4ErvUEwmVOhidQ8wKgvHtt?si=202598a670574960

Word Count: 2,954

“Your drink, my lady,” the King’s smooth baritone fills my ears as I accept the black Waterford goblet from him.

My fingertips run along the base of the glass, where fleur-de-lis are etched in crystal relief before I stare dubiously at its contents.

“It’s your favorite, and I promise nothing additional has been added,” Liam assures me as he carries his glass of scotch and soda with him to an armchair with a high back. “I know your trust in me is not what it once was, to say the least.”

I refrain from looking around his rail car which can only be described as opulent. It’s almost as if someone had removed a fully furnished bedroom from the Palace and placed it here.

He settles back, crossing a pant-clad calf over his thigh. There is a slight smile on his lips, but the tapping of his shoe against the carpet tells his nervousness. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.”

I am an international scandal and a pariah amongst European nobility.

I nod my head curtly. “Of course, Your Majesty.”

He’s a liar.

I decide not to make it easy for Liam. I have questions that deserve answers.

I haven’t forgiven him.

“Why did you wish to see me?” I inquire, my eyes meeting his over the rim of my glass.

His smile drops; his expression fills with concern. “Ahhh, yes. I wanted to check in with you to ensure you are faring well.” His eyes drop in either guilt or shame, I can’t tell. “Or as well as you can be, given your … status at the present.”

My lips purse and I feel heat as my cheeks color. I remember the morning in Fydelia: The beseeching in his eyes as words of apology and half-assed explanations spilled from his lips before he ran away not five minutes later to be by her side.

“Why did you do it?” There is a bite to my tone which catches him unawares. He slowly lowers the goblet from his lips and looks at me sharply.

“Are you accusing me of doing this purposely? I was caught unawares, more so than you or Drake who knew the actual story behind the photographs. You told me about the mysterious communication, why not about that night in Applewood?”

Now I am the one on unsure footing. I sip my drink as he continues.

“Photographs I knew nothing about, related to an incident I was never informed of, are being plastered all over Cordonia … no, the WORLD, of the woman I love. I panicked, my Lady. I’ve grown up surrounded by assassination attempts of various kinds. All I knew in that moment was that you, by some wild stretch, had made at least one enemy. So, I did what I thought best to protect you.”

His voice hasn’t risen, but it has become tight, each word enunciated clearly. I notice his jaw has clenched. I set the goblet on a nearby coaster before rising and making my way to the rail car’s window, pushing velvet drapes aside to stare at white moon and dark water.

“And choosing Madeleine was the best way to protect me? Despite your promises?”

“Whoever is behind this has access to the highest echelons of Court; I felt it behooved me to … play along with public opinion. It was also apparent that this person or persons was adamant the Countess assume the Crown. Which makes her suspect number one in my book. I felt that it was best to have her where I can keep eyes on her at all times.”

“At my expense,” I counter. “Do you have any idea how seeing you with her makes me feel? That you would not only leave me out to dry, but would actually wish to flaunt your decision in my face?”

“I never asked you to join the Tour. You are here at the behest of House Beaumont as their sponsee.”

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62 notes - Posted January 29, 2022

#3

Walk of Shame

The story below is my submission for #WackyDrabbles (if it isn’t too late). The prompt is “tell me you changed your mind” and will appear in bold.

It is yet another take on the Vegas fling; this is my third time exploring it, but hopefully this story stands out from my previous two attempts.

I’m just tossing this into the void; it has not been read over, so please excuse any and all typos, missing/extraneous words, and/or grammatical errors.

To all who will read this story, THANK YOU! Your likes, comments, reblogs are appreciated more than you know.

All characters belong to Pixelberry.

Song Inspiration: Heart of Glass (Crabtree Remix), Blondie: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-_FD21CyxeE

Word Count: 2,000

Parts of this post are lemon-scented

Him

The hotel suite is the same as many others I’ve been in; nothing makes it stand out from any other temporary housing I’ve stayed in except for the view. Despite the late hour, the Las Vegas is lit up brighter than noon-day sun. Flashing lights and colors spill through the balcony window to splash against the walls.

One hand is curled around a tumbler of brown liquor, which I sip slowly. My eyes are fixed on her body as she sits on the bar stool. The floor lamp is a spotlight, illuminating her every move: Her feet, which slipped out of her Christian Louboutin stilettos ever so tantalizingly; the sexy smirk curving a corner of her mouth as she slides fishnet stockings down her smooth legs.

She stands, giving me a pirouette before winking flirtatiously; her hips undulate while her palms run down the front of her pinstriped pencil skirt. I swallow visibly, my Adam apple bobbing as her clothing falls to the floor; she isn’t wearing any underwear.

My cock, already at half-mast, rises majestically at the sight.

Her shoulders roll as she unbuttons her white silk blouse; she shrugs out of it, her eyes locked on mine; I see my lust and desire reflected in hers.

“Christ,” I mutter as I swallow more alcohol.

I’m not drunk. Yet.

I have an irrational desire to see her bachelorette party through: Watching her hold hands with the man she chose as they accept congratulations and good wishes. His palms splayed across her hips as they dance to music only they can hear. Watching him fetch her drinks and her feeding him fried foods.  

It’s her wedding day I’ll need to erase from my memory.

She’s now naked and straddling my lap. My only concession to her invitation for one last night together besides obviously taking her up on the offer, was to unbutton my shirt, kick off my shoes, and pour myself a drink.

I’m afraid to do much more; she has me under a spell I don’t want to break free from.

But I have to ask.

My head tilts back against the tufted armchair. “What does this mean?” I whisper.

Her fingertips are quick and light as they flutter against and touch fabric and flesh. Her eyes flicker to meet mine. “I can’t let things between us end without you knowing that you aren’t second best. I don’t ever want you to think you weren’t good enough.”

I draw a perverse satisfaction knowing I’ll be fucking his fiancée. She wears his ring, but I have her. For now, at least. I feel the cool air of the air conditioning blow across my newly exposed skin, and I see goosebumps erupt along her arms; her nipples stiffen. I tilt my glass, splashing her areola with my drink. My head dips; my tongue licks brown droplets from her breast. Her moan fills my ears and my cock strains against my underwear.

“Where’s your bed?” I growl against her earlobe.

The bedroom is dark, curtains drawn against the lone floor to ceiling window. But neither of us need light; our movements have always been guided by instinct and chemistry. Our warm bodies wrap together as we roll across cool sheets; our tongues tangle, our breaths mingle. The pads of her fingers press into my shoulders, and it is my turn to cradle her hips in my hands.

I overpower her, trapping her body beneath mine while I pin her arms above her head; one hand easily holds her wrists together while my lips and tongue suckle a trail down the column of her neck. She’s wearing pearls; my teeth tug at them, pulling them from their tether. Smooth, cream-colored gemstones roll off her body to nestle amongst the sheets.

The scent of her arousal draws me further south along her body, my lips tasting scented skin until I reach her center. I release her wrists to spread her lips apart. My mouth closes over her clit as I slide fingers inside her. Her walls are soft, tight, slick. We both moan.

I need to feel her. I don’t want to, not so soon, but it’s been too long since I have felt her wrapped around my cock. My body shifts and I raise myself slightly; one hand grasps the base of my shaft, and I rub it along her slit. Her hips rub impatiently against mine and I slide myself into her. A groan falls from lips as I do; it feels as if I am falling into satin pillows. Her walls fold around me, imprisoning me in a most exquisite fashion.

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66 notes - Posted April 10, 2022

#2

Black Drake Discourse

I am writing this in response to this post: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/aussiegurl1234/686447532178538496?source=share

Unlike the OP, who feels that not one WOC who commented on the original ask was a “constructive commenter”, I am going to tag her so she can read first-hand why this person at least has an issue with changing Drake Walker’s race/ethnicity.

I stated that the author has essentially put Drake in blackface, which has a horribly racist history within the black community.

Blackface is used to denigrate people of African descent; it is an assertion of power and control and perpetuates long-held stereotypical beliefs.

Why did I say that?

Let’s look at Drake’s background (and let me state that I feel Drake got the shit end of the PB stick):

·         His father was killed

·         His mother abandoned him

·         His sister is a runaway and (was) a single mom

·         He lives off the Crown/State (welfare, foster home)

·         HE was shot

·         Numbs feelings/emotions with a mood-altering substance (as a woman with 20 years of recovery from drug and alcohol addiction, yes I believe alcohol is a drug)

And OP makes him black. I’m going with black because even if she states that he’s biracial, his skin is black. He will be viewed as black.

These circumstances are problematic for any race but are rampant within the black community.

Then, OP only makes him black with a (Lily) white MC, which again is a source of contention within the black community. Some black men feel that being with a white woman is a status symbol of sorts, and dating/marrying one tells the world he’s “made it.”

As a black female writer of fanfic whose LI is Asian Liam and MC is black  (clutch your pearls), I don’t have an issue with Drake being in an interracial relationship, but to make him black to put him with a white MC? WHY do you have to change his ethnicity? Why perpetuate negative black stereotypes?

I have put the TRR gang in all types of AUs and changed their sexualities and tweaked their backgrounds to suit my story, but I have never thought to change their race, or hair/eye color, or stand out traits that make them … them.

I thought I was stating my opinion within the ask thread respectfully, but was told I had an “attitude”, which again is another stereotype: the angry black woman. But when OP answers with: “Because I can” and “Why are only Liam and MC customizable? Drake should be customizable too!

Well, that screams privilege and entitlement to me.

The homophobia: You don’t have to like ANY ship, but to call Driam horrid and that you don't CONDONE them (not you don't suport it, you don't condone it), and want to stand on perceived canon assumptions there, but be okay (and expect others to be as well) with changing a core canon trait of a character (his race) comes across as double-standard and hypocrisy.

PS- it's LGBTQIA+

 And OP, please know that I thought about you yesterday, worried about your well-being and how you were faring after such fallout but decided to give you a day to process and decompress. I will be reaching out to you later this week because I would like to hear your thoughts and reasonings on the matter.

I promise to bring an open mind and my listening ears. I hope you would do the same.

Okay, it is now 3:30am and I need to be back up at 6am to go make the doughnuts (I really don’t make doughnuts for a living). Unsure if this post makes any sense (seriously, woke up for other reasons and came across the Long Post in my feed and inboxes), but hopefully MY reasons for responding to the ask are valid, respectful, and make sense to more than just me.

Or maybe it’s just a Robin problem?

Tagging:  @sirbeepsalot @jared2612 @ao719 @burnsoslow @marietrinmimi @merridithsmiscellany-blog @queenjilian @texaskitten30 @glaimtruelovealways @indiacater @kingliam2019 @bebepac @liamxs-world @ac27dj @the-soot-sprite @hopelessromanticmonie @amandablink @mom2000aggie @cmestrella @iaminlovewithtrr @liamrhysstalker2020 @ladyangel70 @gkittylove99 @neotericthemis @twinkleallnight @umccall71 @superharriet  @busywoman @gabesmommie1130 @tessa-liam @phoenixrising308 @beezm @gardeningourmet @lovingchoices14 @foreverethereal123 @janezillow @mainstreetreader @angelasscribbles @lady-calypso @emkay512 @jovialyouthmusic @21-wishes @princessleac1 @charlotteg234 @bbrandy2002 @aussiegurl1234

71 notes - Posted June 8, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Acquittal

This story has taken almost two years to complete and has gone through several revisions and edits; I can only hope that this final product makes sense, isn’t too boring or wordy, and that folks enjoy it.

The premise is simple: What if Maxwell is MC’s husband when Barthelemy invokes the Coventus Noblis? It’s a slap in the face regardless of who your chosen LI is, but it’s got to hit differently when it’s your father declaring you incompetent and kidnapping your child.

Also, I head canon Maxwell differently than most, and especially PB; I don’t see him as the Court Jester, but rather the guy who uses humor and feigns ignorance to deflect attention away from himself, particularly when he was younger and chubbier. He’d rather make you laugh than be laughed at.

THANK YOU to all who read over pieces and parts of this fic.

THANK YOU to all who will read it; your comments, likes, and reblogs are appreciated far more than you know.

Please forgive any and all typos, missing/extraneous words, and/or grammatical mistakes. Word Editor only gave me 92% this time around.

All characters belong to Pixelberry. (Rebecca McKenzie is from PB’s Most Wanted)

Song Inspiration: Way Down We Go, Kaleo

Word Count: 4,895

The prisoner sits on the side of the unmade cot, his hair wet; a damp towel is slung loosely about his waist. His feet are pushed into worn bedroom slippers. With a sigh, he rises stiffly from sheets and mattress, slowly making his way to the mirror; he frowns at his reflection. The hot water and steam have done little to mask the fact he slept poorly the night before.

And the nights before that.

He picks up a comb and begins to pull from front to back, the teeth leaving behind lines throughout his thick brown locks. The silence is a tad too tense to be soothing as he awaits his visitor. His head lifts almost eagerly at the soft shuffling of her house slippers against the stone floor.

There is a clanking of keys before she rolls the breakfast trolley into the cell; she nods gratefully to the guard. Her smell seeps into the dank prison, filling his nostrils with aromas of sleep, neroli, and rosewater. He inhales greedily as their eyes meet in the mirror, but it’s her mouth that he focuses on; the plump pink of her lips currently curved upward in a soft smile. He flashes her his signature grin in return before asking, “Annabelle?” in a hopeful voice.

His wife begins lifting silver cloches before preparing mugs of coffee. “Brought to me last night, just as we were promised. She has a bad case of croup, and a slight fever. I gave her some of the elixir the doctor prescribed, and she’s been asleep since.”

Worry fills his sapphire-blue eyes. “How bad? How long has she been sick?” His body turns so he is facing the Duchess of Valtoria; his lower back presses against the metal basin, a narrow hip jutted to the left. He outstretches his arms, fingers beckoning his wife to him.

Riley leaves the cart to step into Maxwell’s waiting embrace. “Shush,” she soothes. “She’ll be fine. I promise.”

Maxwell shifts uncomfortably at the thought of his baby daughter being ill, at being powerless in the situation … but he recovers quickly. “Well, you haven’t broken a promise yet,” he quips.

Riley kisses him deeply yet briefly, her tongue rolling against his before pulling away to pour them both cups of coffee. “And I never will,” she vows.

Barthelemy Beaumont sat behind his mahogany desk, the lamplight dispelling only a few of the study’s shadows brought on by dusk; his steely gray eyes glared at his visitor in disdain. Unperturbed, the visitor returned the gaze with unwavering eyes. With a sinister smirk, the elder Beaumont pushed his chair closer to the bureau and placed the heels of his hands on polished wood before steepling his fingers.

“You didn’t disappoint,” he observed. “I knew someone would show up, pleading that jackass’ case.”

“You took away his child. You broke up his family. You went too far, too quickly.”

“I am King Regent, in addition to being his parent. He put hands on me in violence; that is treason, and punishable by death.”

The visitor raised an eyebrow as a sardonic giggle escaped their throat. “He kicked.your.ass. and the entire country knows it.” A pause. “How’s your nose?” Sarcasm infused their tone.

Barthelemy’s face hardened; when he spoke, his tone was cold. “He BROKE IT! It’s still healing. And you’d best remember that you need me and show both restraint and respect when addressing me.”

The visitor’s hand slipped inside their pocket. “I’m here to neither grovel nor apologize. I am here for the child and to demand the release of Duke Beaumont.” The hand came back into view; it held a pistol. “Or you die tonight. Your choice.”

The meal between the couple is quiet; Maxwell isn’t hungry, but Riley convinces him to drink some coffee, and nibble on toast and fruit. His blue eyes, filled with questions and uncertainty, search her brown ones. She frowns slightly.

“What?” she asks as she pulls her fingers through her chestnut-colored mane.

She knows the question he’s going to ask, and she doesn’t have a definitive answer.

“What’s going to happen today?” His voice is soft, yet firm. He has neither fear nor remorse for his actions.

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75 notes - Posted May 30, 2022

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