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#deliberately not tagging author name because I don’t want her fucking fandom showing up
thebibliosphere · 2 years
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Hey, monster and or alien fucker romancers, just a heads up, but it looks like L*ly Ant*n has been stealing fanfic from tumblr and selling it for profit as original fic:
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If you read and or write alien romance, fated lovers or any of the other tropes listed in the Twitter thread, you might want to check your work/the work of your favorite fic authors.
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cinematicnomad · 3 years
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1, 7, 25 for the fanfic end of year ask :)
001. favorite fic you wrote this year i have a soft spot for take my hand (take my everything) which was the first fic i wrote this year! and kind of the first step back into writing creatively on something new that wasn’t the 7 year monster sterek fic. also my first foray into 9-1-1 fic and was just a lot of fun! 
007. longest completed fic you wrote this year the longest fic i wrote was my second for the year! so show me (family) wound up being around 16k+ for 9-1-1 which kind of burst out of me over the course of one 48 hour window unlike take my hand which took a few weeks to crank out. 
025. a fic you read this year you would recommend everyone read SO MANY FICS DUDE!!! i’m gonna rec a couple, some that i re-read this year and some that i discovered for the first time, all from a variety of fandoms. BUT heads up, you didn’t specify a fandom so it’s gonna be a little scattered. also someone else sent me this same question but specified 9-1-1, so i’m gonna reserve those recs for that ask. GET READY!!
and this, your living kiss by opal_bullets (7/7 | 84k+ | M) destiel; AU: college/university; john winchester’s A+ parenting; angst with a happy ending
only a very few people in the world know that the celebrated and reclusive poet jack allen is just kansas mechanic dean winchester, a high school dropout with a few bucks to his name. not that it matters anymore; life has left him so wrung out he never wants to pick up another pen.
until, that is, a string of coincidences leads dean to auditing a poetry course with one dr. castiel novak. the professor is wildly intelligent, devastatingly handsome...and just so happens to be academia’s foremost expert on the poetry of jack allen.
note: i discovered this fic back in the pre-pandemic times of feb 2020 and i’ve read this fic TWICE since, leaving a lengthy comment each time. the poetry in the fic itself is stunningly gorgeous and i have a habit of reading it out loud to myself while reading bc it begs to be heard. this fic is seriously beautiful and makes me want to read all the poet!dean au’s out there in the world. unfortunately there aren’t that many so i just keep coming back to this well. i don’t think i can express enough how much i love this fic. 
lost time by ARCurren (105/105 | 350k+ | T)  bransonxsybil; AU: canon divergent; outsider POVs; original characters; slow burn
the story of a free spirit who was asked to give up the man she loved for a system she didn’t believe in and what happened next. AU after 3.04. 
note: did i think, when i stumbled across this fic years ago, that it would wind up being one of my all time favorites that i return to time and again to re-read? never. did i re-read it for like the dozenth time this year?? 110%. this fic is everything i want from fanfiction—it’s beautifully written, expands on canon, and shows me all the hidden moments the cameras never did (not to mention it’s historically accurate and delves deep into irish politics of the time). the first third or so of this fic is all about tom and sybil’s slow burn romance at downton, but the fic really bursts into its own when we follow the two to dublin and get introduced to all of the author’s deliciously detailed oc’s. heads up warning: this fic was never officially completed, though the final chapter is a beautifully written summary of the final arc of the fic. even so, it’s fucking worth it. 
misfire by mothlights & unpossible (6/6 | 28k+ | T) sterek; time travel; angst with a happy ending; alive hale family; magic; alternating POV
“the debt must be repaid,” she says, and it has the weight of a vow. the words resonate through him, ringing through his ribcage and the bones of his jaw, and stiles loses his breath and maybe his grip on reality because she draws herself upright and where there had once stood a supermodel-level MILK now there is galadriel’s much hotter older sister, a presence of unmistakable power in their ordinary, smells-vaguely-of-thai-takeout hallway. 
“oh shit,” stiles says. 
note: this fic is the first in the misfire ‘verse and i need you to understand that it literally broke me when i binge read these fics a month or so ago. i am a sucker for a solid time travel fic especially bc there are such few good ones in fandom. but this gets at the heart of it all by exploring the idea of stiles getting the chance to save derek’s family and taking it...after he and derek are romantically together in his true timeline and then actually dealing with the ramifications of how that alters everything and how stiles survives in this new present where he and derek are virtual strangers. everyone should definitely read this, but you should also know that i fucking sobbed while reading the sequel (which also has a happy ending, but really digs deep into the nitty gritty angst of the repercussions). 
map of the world by seperis (11/11 | 154k+ | M)  destiel; end!verse; alternate universe; canon divergent; original characters; slow burn
the world’s already over and they’re already dead. all they’re doing now is marking time until the end. 
note: look, if you don’t know about down to agincourt by @seperis, what are you doing with your life?? the series is over 1M+ words so far, the fic author is on book 4 out of a planned 8, and it’s fucking phenomenal. i know i’ve tagged a couple of these recs as slow burn but...this is the slowest slow burn to ever burn. canon!dean travels back into the end!verse timeline just as lucifer kills dean and somehow cas made it out alive and has to keep dean safe while he learns to become his end!verse counterpoint. the world building in this series is intense and i cannot recommend it enough. i’m still in the midst of my re-read bc it’s SUCH an endeavor but i highly recommend it to everybody. 
invictus by ellanasan (116/116 | 355+ | M) hayffie; au: alive abernathy family; pre-hunger games; canon prostitution; slow burn
“so then, before i can even think about doing something stupid like trying to stab him with his fucking golden paperknife, he gives me a choice, see?” haymitch continued, almost detached. “either i play nice like all the other victors or he’ll kill my family. i could either become his puppet—greatest punishment he could give me, according to him—or i could become the example.”
AU in which haymitch’s family lives.
note: hello, have you ever wondered what the hunger games series would be like if haymitch’s family were alive? i fucking hadn’t until 2 years ago when i stumbled across this fic and fell head over heels in love with this ship. @ellanainthetardis is my go to hunger games fic writer for anything exploring canon and i’m obsessed with anything she writes about the OG victors pre-canon (finnick, joanna, chaff, etc). this fic is just 300k+ exploring that world and all the intricate details of how cruel the games could really be. HIGHLY recommend. i definitely re-read it this fall when i needed a pick me up.
don’t know what i’m supposed to do (haunted by the ghost of you) by crazyassmurdererwall (1/1 | 30k+ | T) sterek; canon divergent; angst with a happy ending; ghosts; stiles POV
stiles sees dead people. yep. seriously.
(he’s got this. he’s totally got this. so what if one of them is derek’s mom?)
note: did you know that @crazyassmurdererwall is one of my all time favorite people? and that she’s wicked talented? and that in our spare time she’ll send me a billion fic ideas that are amazing and i get to hear all the intricate details of her plot bunnies? but i digress. this fic is one of my all time fave sterek fics i’ve re-read it sooo many times. there’s just something about the heartache and stiles’ insecurity and the way he tries to shoulder it all on his own. and then there’s alli’s brilliant writing, the way she weaves through a scene and paints a picture just so and manages to tug at your heart strings with her precise word choice. there’s some amazing world building in this fic as it explores this other facet of the supernatural that canon teen wolf never touched upon, and i’m so grateful for that bc alli is the only one who should be allowed to write about ghosts and teen wolf together. 
lagavulin and guinness by snarfle (10/10 | 163k+ | explicit) hartwin; slow burn; PTSD; suicidal thoughts; graphic depictions of violence; domestic abuse
plenty of people had looked down on eggsy throughout his life. he had gotten fairly used to it. didn’t mean it was fair, but he knew how these things worked. what really sucked was that the new arthur was worse than the old one.
“eggsy grimaced. he didn’t know how to explain to harry—who seemed like he hadn’t been discriminated against a day in his life—that the new arthur kept giving him what amounted to suicide missions, and that he was currently bleeding out in a warehouse because of the deliberately bad intel she had given him.”
also featuring: dean is harder to get rid of than eggsy thought, his mum is going off the deep end, there are way too many nefarious plots in play, and eggsy is really beginning to wish that harry would stop holding his hand and kiss him instead.
note: look, i know i recced this literally less than a week ago but i ALSO stayed up til 5AM re-reading this last night and it was a-m-a-z-i-n-g. i was on a bit of a kingsman kick earlier this year, so i’ve actually re-read this fic TWICE so far in 2020. i will give you a serious warning in that this fic delves deep into domestic abuse through the lens of a variety of different relationships. it also explores the potential for abuse in hartwin, bc this fic is one of the few that actually commits to the fact that they’re literal spies who murder people. actively. a lot. but seriously, this fic is one of my fave in the fandom and i STRONGLY recommend it. 
waste of breath by bryrosea (1/1 | 22k+ | M) loganxveronica; canon compliant; missing scenes; navy; past child abuse
logan echolls, the nine years, and the navy.
note: bryrosea has an obscene number of amazing logan and veronica fics (her canon divergent series stay with me is another i re-read this year), but i’ve found myself returning to this fic a lot over the years. i’m a sucker for canon compliant fics that explore the missing scenes in between canon and this fic hits all the right buttons by diving deep into how logan echolls went from being a trash fire at hearst college at the end of s3 to being a decorated navy pilot by the movie. it explores logan seeking out therapy and making a life for himself that he can be proud of, all while pining after the girl who got away. and bc this author is amazing, she followed it up with a sequel from veronica’s point of view in the series done by only me. 
the law of equivalent exchange by awed_frog (8/8 | 60k+ | M) destiel; POV castiel; pre-canon; post-canon; canon compliant; immortality; reincarnation
“and what’s the point of it?”
“of love? there isn’t one. loving is its own purpose.” 
note: i mean??? i don’t really know what to say except that this is one of the truly most beautiful fics i have ever read. it follows castiel through time as he meets different reincarnations of sam and dean across history and falls ever more deeply in love. it is achingly tender and so ecstatically written that i die just thinking about it. and that summary? i mean. holy fuck break my heart why don’t you? i don’t know how i missed out on this fic for so long since it was published in 2015 but i only learned about it for the first time back in july and it was. life changing?? when the fic finally reaches the canon timeline and he meets THIS dean it’s peak yearning. 10/10 will read again.
ahead in the count by elisela (17/17 | 50k+ | E) sterek; AU: sports; pitcher!stiles; teacher!derek; long distance relationship; getting together
“yankee fan,” derek says, laughing when stiles makes a disgusted face. “the bronx bombers, stiles, you can’t be a new yorker and—”
“stop talking right now,” stiles sighs, shaking his head. “i can’t believe i still want to kiss you after that,” he says, pulling derek in by his coat. “this is making me rethink everything.” 
“i’ll never watch them again,” derek promises, and stiles laughs against his mouth. 
or: stiles is a starting pitcher for the NY mets when he meets and falls in love with derek. derek doesn’t know. 
note: i read SO MANY of @elisela’s 911 fics this summer, which i loved, and then she got into teen wolf and started writing sterek and i just about died. this fic is amazing, one of my fave sterek AU’s that i’ve read in years. it’s just the right amount of drama and angst and fluff filled with all the joys of miscommunication and character relationships that makes reading sterek such a joy. reading this fic and finding out eli needed fic recs pushed me to dive back in to reading sterek fics for a bit this fall so i can say with the utmost authority that this is one of the best i’ve read in a long time. 
i used to think one day we’d tell the story of us by notequitegucci (2/2 | 32k+ | M) gendrya; alternate universe—modern setting; outsider POV; friends to lovers; friends to lovers
9 times a stark encounters gendry + 1 time he meets the starks.
note: again, this is the first in a 2 part series titled love me like you do that explores arya and gendry’s dynamics together through the point of view of her family. game of thrones ended last year with a whimper but i keep returning to the gendrya tag on ao3 to seek out new, amazing content and also to re-read some old favorites. i can’t remember if i came across this for the first time last year or this one, but i’ve read it and re-read it more times than i can count since and i love it more than i can describe. i’m a total sucker for outsider POV fics and my biggest pet peeve in canon is the fact that none of the stark’s ever found out that arya and gendry had a history together. this modern au fic almost makes up for it by giving me a gendry encounter with every family member and then the big reveal. it’s peak content. 
theeeeeeese recs got a little away from me. i wasn’t originally intending on adding lengthy notes to each entry but ... oh well!! these are all amazing so please enjoy. 
fanfic end of the year asks
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snarkwrites · 4 years
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summer sizzle | disaster, steve harrington [m]
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[ prompts used ]
** again, all of these were found on different lists across the internet. literally none of them belong to me and i will have to try finding the lists these all came from at some point. credits to anyone who made these prompt lists **
Disaster + “S-stop staring at me like that!” + Say My Name + comfort sex + One Small Kiss, Pulling Away For An Instant, Then Devouring Each Other
[ authors notes ]
This is the alternate universe to my whole thing with Steve and Charlotte. At some point, I do plan to write an actual fic for them. In the meantime, I’m gonna build things up through one shots and stuff. If anyone’s curious, pls ask away, my ask box is open.
[ warnings ]
18+ only. All children, leave the room. I repeat, all children, leave the room. underage drinking a lil bit, biting / leaving hickies, body fluids, oral [ both parties give and recieve ], protected sex and that’s pretty much it.
[ pairing / fandom ]
steve harrington x ofc, charlotte granger
[ tagging ]
@rampagewriting​​ | @chasingeverybreakingwave​​
[ tag list - masterlist - about my writing ]
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                                     D I S A S T E R - steve harrington x ofc,
“You really should slow down with that.” Steve popped up beside me and it only made me that much more determined to chug the bottle of rum in my hands. If I had alcohol in my mouth, I didn’t have to try conversing. I didn’t risk just grabbing his face in my hands and laying a kiss on him that would only result in making everything even more awkward between the two of us than it already is.
I sat the bottle down on the tabletop firmly, wiping at my mouth with the back of my hand as I swayed a little to the music. I could feel the rabbit ears on my headband slipping and I swore, reaching up. Steve swatted my hands away and reached over, fixing the way they stood, bending one of them ever so slightly. He stepped a little closer, the limited space between us filling with heavy tension.
It seemed to do that a lot lately.
He nodded to the crowded party. “I thought you came with Byers to pick up Nancy.”
I shrugged and raised the bottle to my lips, taking another drink, swallowing it down before I answered quietly, “I decided to stay. I didn’t want to feel like a third wheel on my own date.”
As neutral as I tried to sound when saying it, I failed miserably. The sarcasm laced into my words and Steve’s head tilted slightly as he just… stared at me. Like he was in deep thought and dazed.
“If you’re going to be weird, I’m going to go do keg stands.” I muttered the words quietly and took a step forward. That step put me body to body with Steve whose hands immediately settled on my hips as his eyes roamed and he didn’t bother trying to hide it.
“Bad date?” Steve asked, giving me a bit of a weak smile as our eyes met.
I snorted. “More like a complete fucking disaster from the word go.”
Steve snickered and I pouted at him, lips poking out.
“I’m glad to see my sheer misery makes you laugh. Asshole.” I started to try and side step but he stopped me, staring deep into my eyes again and not saying anything.
Until finally, he did. Pulling me closer because a crowd rushed past, whooping and hollering because someone was about to do keg stands again in the next room. I blew at a bright red strand of loose bangs that flopped into my eye and tilted my head slightly, looking at him.
“It’s not your misery, okay? I was laughing cos..” Steve trailed off, eyes settling fixed on the floor beneath our feet. I raised a brow and honestly, I meant to just walk away, beyond done with the night by this point, but something about the way he fell silent had my interest piqued.
“Why?” I asked the question as my hand settled on my hip. Steve was staring at the black velvet strapless bodysuit I was wearing, at the fishnets covering my legs, anything but my actual face. Distracted, as usual. I rolled my eyes and cleared my throat impatiently.
“ The fact that Nancy just broke up with me. I don’t know, I guess it’s just my reaction to a shitty night.” the explanation sounded feeble, but I said nothing.
It hit me then, what he’d just said.
I eyed him in concern, going quiet. I took a few big back to back sips of the rum in my hand and gritted my teeth, shaking my head all over again at the burn as I glanced at the bottle for a second or two, just to keep from staring at him like an ass, as is my tendency as of late.
And yes, I feel like the world’s most horrible friend for it.
“They say this stuff goes down smoother the more you sip it. I call bullshit.” I mumbled, mostly to myself, mostly just to keep that heavy tension from creeping back in between Steve and I all over again.
Steve reached for the bottle and raised it to his lips, shotgunning a generous portion as he shrugged.
“Fucking show off.” I grumbled, reaching for the bottle and nearly falling forward as I did so.
Steve stepped closer, hands at my side after sitting the bottle of rum down on the table nearby. “Are you alright?”
“Shh. Don’t kill my buzz.” I held a finger to his lips as I giggled a little bit. Someone put on Aerosmith and I bounced on my feet a little, grinning from ear to ear about it. When my eyes met his again, he was staring at me, an almost thoughtful expression on his face.
“S-stop staring at me like that!” I drawled, starting to sway my hips a little to the song playing in the background.
“What if I don’t wanna?” Steve practically mumbled the question, his gaze growing more intent. Roaming even more. Lingering on my body just long enough to set my body to burning immediately.
I threw my head back and laughed at what he said, the laughter dying on my lips as my eyes met his again and I realized that he wasn’t joking. He had his most serious facial expression on. And he was stepping closer, towering over me just  barely. Fingertips digging into the thin black velvet fabric covering my body.  His hips rubbing right against mine, making me swallow hard and sort of melt into him just so I didn’t have to look at him and increase the risk of him figuring out exactly what he was doing to me at the moment.
“Tonight is really a disaster, huh?” I managed to mumble, mostly for lack of anything better to say and wanting to vanquish the tension before it got so fucking thick I couldn’t breathe. I could already feel my legs getting a little  more wobbly, my thighs getting just a little slippery. Just the thought of him… In that way… had me burning up all over in a heated blush for at least the tenth time since he’d wandered over an hour or two ago.
I’ve shoved this thing down so deep that now that it’s bubbling up to the surface, it takes literally all my willpower from stopping it.
Steve continued to stare, his gaze fixing on my lips as he licked his own. He swallowed hard and my eyes settled on the way his throat bobbed. I did my best not to indulge myself and imagine dancing my lips down his throat.
“The night’s not over yet.” his voice almost sounded husky. Laced with something I couldn’t quite figure out.
When he finally said it, he was standing so close that I was pressed against him, bodies rubbing together lightly. Mostly to steady myself in the stupid heels I chose to wear with my costume, I raised my arms, wrapping them around his neck.
“True, but.. Our dates did leave together.” I pointed out the fact, sighing quietly. I mean… I’m the one who told Jonathan to worry about getting Nancy home safe, that I wanted to stay and hang out with Briar and a few of the other girls and that I’d be fine.
,, you told him to leave you because maybe you’re starting to realize that he’s more into Nancy. So you’re cutting your losses.” my brain reminded me. I literally have no reason to be bitter right now, and yet.. Here I go.
Between Nancy dating Steve even knowing our history and how I had a crush on him and how tense things were when he stopped being friends with me.. And her suddenly having so much to do with Jonathan right when I’ve decided that maybe it’s time to let go of old crushes… I’d almost swear she was doing it deliberately if I didn’t know otherwise.
“I told Nancy to go.” Steve admitted, shrugging a little, a weak smile as he looked down at me. “She didn’t wanna be here with me anyway.”
I bit my lip, nodding at him as I found my own eyes settling on thick lips. Lips I desperately wanted to kiss.
My fingertips seemed to grow minds of their own, toying with the hair at the nape of his neck.
In the room behind us, the noise seemed to grow, people were getting rowdier. But all I could do was continue to stare,  trying to figure out why he’d even come over to me in the first place.
“Honestly, I could tell Jonathan had other things on his mind tonight. I was just in the way.” I shrugged it off and took a deep breath. More people pushed past us, putting us even closer together. I bit back a quiet whimper and felt myself starting to blush. He chuckled and gazed down at me a few seconds, that look in his eye all over again.
“What? Do I have lipstick on my teeth?” I asked the question and raised my hand, prepared to wipe at my mouth. This red lipstick, while pretty, was a huge pain in my ass. But it made the costume seem even more appropriate… Or inappropriate. Whatever.
“No, I was just thinking.. Something Nancy said after she broke up with me and called basically everything about us bullshit before demanding to leave… About you.”
I swallowed hard, my breath catching in my  throat, but as best as I could, I tried to downplay. To feign an air of total neutrality. My best blank look on my face, casual.. Appearing not to be affected by Steve and his.. Everything.
“Yeah?” I asked, walking a finger up and down the front of his black button front shirt. He squirmed slightly and kept staring down at me intently, letting his gaze drop to my finger for a lingering distracted few seconds. The tension in the air was getting so much thicker. I couldn’t stop it, I couldn’t deny it.
Shit, did I sound breathless? The thought came but I shoved it out, clearing my throat, guiding his gaze so that he had to look at me. “What’d she say?” I finally managed to ask the question, trying to steer this whole… Bizarre moment away from the heavy tension it was fast approaching.
“It wasn’t anything bad.” Steve said it quickly and I bit my lip, waiting.
“After she told me that everything was bullshit, she told me that I was with the wrong girl and I’m kind of…” he trailed off again, leaning down, his face getting closer to mine. My breath caught again and this time, I didn’t try hiding the fact. “Yeah?” the word came quick and clumsy as my face inched closer to his.
And my lips promptly brushed against the corner of his mouth clumsily. I drew back quick but his hands caught on either side of my face, pulling my lips directly back to his. “Where are you goin, hm?” he half growled the question against my lips as his mouth crashed against and hungrily devoured mine. One of his hands dragged up my back, catching in my hair, tangling in it as he gripped the back of my head and his other hand rested on my cheek, a thumb trailing lazily along my cheek after the kiss broke.
We slowly pulled apart, staring at one another wide eyed. He was quick to lean back in, chuckling as he bit his bottom lip and stared hungrily at mine a second or two. “She was right. It has always been you, I just…” he dragged his hand through his hair as he took several shaky breaths.
It suddenly seemed to occur to him just how little I was wearing and the next thing I knew, he was shedding his blazer and putting it around me, even going as far as to button a few buttons.
“Steve.” I whined, pouting up at him as he shook his head no. “No, nope. That costume is, “ he gestured to me, “Too fucking much. What are you supposed to be anyway?”
“A bunny.” I was intentionally being vague. Honestly, I figured he’d put two and two together.
Apparently, he did not.
“I’ve been wearing this the entire time you’ve been standing here and you’re just now seeing it? Ya know.. If I were easily offended, I could take offense to that. I happen to like it. And it belonged to my grandma Ginger.” I did a little twirl to sort of show off the costume, maybe rubbing it in just a little.
“Yeah, I don’t think so.. Bunnies are covered in fur and their noses wiggle, Charlotte. That is.. Fuck me, it is something, alright...” he was tugging at his hair again and gazing down at me and I succumbed to the fit of giggles that had been threatening to take over for at least a minute or two by this point.
Typical Steve… Getting so caught in a moment that he really doesn’t notice his surroundings until he does. Then he’s in sheer awe or shock.
“Anyway, I was in the middle of something.” Steve was trying to get whatever he was making an attempt to say out and I stood there, head tilted slightly, watching him and barely hiding the little smile I had as I did it. “You were, if you’d kindly just get to it.”
“Maybe we could do this outside? Where I can hear myself think?” Steve pleaded and I gave a nod. I honestly assumed he’d let me walk out. No. The next thing I know, I’m being scooped up and carried out the door of Billy Hargrove’s house and he didn’t put me down until we were standing beside his BMW.
“Better now?” I couldn’t hide my amusement at this point.
He stuck his tongue out at me and took a few long and shaky breaths, rubbing his face. “I think so, yeah. Okay. Now where was I?”
“Steve, c’mon. Just say whatever it is. This is me you’re talking to. I’ve known you since we were five. Out with it already.” I pleaded, toying with his shirt as he stopped pacing in favor of standing in front of me, staring down. Hungrily. His pupils were shot, almost blacking out the brown of his eyes. I gulped as I stared right back up at him, wondering if he was going to come out with whatever this was, my breath catching in my throat when his hips brushed right against my lower body and instead of moving away a little, Steve proceeded to step even closer, my back pressing right against the cold exterior of his car, the handle digging into my lower back just a little.
“Nancy was right.” Steve’s voice came out quietly, almost awestruck. I fidgeted slightly, my gaze dropping to the heels I was wearing briefly. He wasn’t having it, he reached out, fingers lightly gripping my chin as his face moved closer to mine all over again. “You’re the one I actually love. And I had no idea until Nancy, she…” he was talking faster now, almost as if he were afraid of what my reaction might be.
When what he was saying really hit me, I melted into him, going just a little clingy. “Yeah.. the last time we kind of argued… she threw that up at me too. Something about both of us being almost comically oblivious about things.” I agreed, the words coming quick, almost tumbling out one right on top of the other. I was a little shaky and I couldn’t tell if it was the alcohol or the way it felt pressing against him or the overwhelming realization we’d both just had.
When he rubbed against me lightly just to try and get even closer, I let out a ragged breath and looked up at him.
“Steve?” I asked quietly.
“Yeah, princess?” Steve muttered, his gaze fixing on my lips as his tongue slowly crawled along the outline of his mouth. His fingertips were digging into my hips now and I gasped when I felt him strained against dark jeans. It was distracting enough I couldn’t think straight.
“I wanna get out of here.” I barely managed to breathlessly respond.
“Me too.” his mouth brushed against the corner of mine lazily and his hands crept down my sides, squeezing when they stopped at my hips. I raised a leg, letting it settle on his hip and his hand left my hip to wander down and squeeze my thigh as he did it again, clumsily rocking himself right against me, drawing a whimper out of me.
“Where do you want to go?” Steve asked as he tilted my chin, guiding my gaze back up to him. “I just want to be alone with you…” he mumbled against my forehead, making me shiver at the way it felt when his lips brushed my skin. “Just wanna talk. Make up for lost time.” his words had me smiling a little, biting my lip and nodding in agreement. I did too. We had so much to talk about and straighten out. And I wanted cuddles. I wouldn’t mind many more kisses like the one we shared inside the party, either.
Among other things.
“Well, anywhere we go, I’m going to be sneaking back in.” I gave a soft giggle as I met his gaze and watched the smile grow.
“You went all bad girl on me, Charlie.”
“I most certainly did not. I’m protesting my curfew.”
“My house then? I mean, if you want to go. We’d actually be able to be alone. Not like here, with all these fucking people.”  Steve chuckled as he gave a half annoyed gesture back towards Billy’s crowded house. I blushed and looked up at him, nodding in agreement.
“Let’s just go.” I answered, letting him help me into the passenger seat of his car then gripping hold of his shirt and pulling him down into me, crashing my lips against his yet again. My mouth strayed, gingerly grazing against the side of his neck and he gave a quiet groan, his fingers digging into the back of my seat as he whined against my throat, “Charlotte, this isn’t getting us to my place.”
“I know but I couldn’t resist.” I answered, my eyes fluttering open and shut as I felt his teeth dig into my neck lightly. He smirked against my skin and finally pulled away, shutting the door to my side of the car in a hurry, then rushing around to the driver seat, getting in.
The drive to his house was quiet. The tension between us had shifted from awkward to heavy… filled with want. Things we hadn’t managed to say to each other just yet. Things we needed to say.
As we came to a stop beneath one of few redlights in town, his fingers skimmed my thighs, resting, squeezing a little as he looked over at me. I leaned in, my mouth crashing against his. His lips fell open and his tongue swept out, colliding with mine as his hand crept just a little higher and he breathed into the kiss, “This is okay, right?”
“Mhm.” I hummed against his mouth, squirming and rocking myself against the touch of his hand when it brushed against my velvet covered crotch. He growled quietly, his lips latching onto my bottom one, sucking until I could feel it aching and I was panting and begging, a squirmy whining mess in my seat.
“Want you so bad. So bad.” he muttered as he pulled away, staring at me with a lust filled gaze, letting out several drawn out and shaky breaths as if he were trying to calm himself down.
There was no calming me down at this point. I leaned across the console keeping us separate and gripped his jaw, pulling his mouth against mine. “You realize that to an extent, you’ve always had me, right?”
That smile, the bright goofy one, it crept to his mouth and he pulled back, just staring at me, our breathing all ragged and the windows of his car starting to fog up. He reached out and gripped my hips, guiding me over the console into his lap. His lips grazed my forehead and he mumbled softly against it, “You weren’t close enough.”
I looked up at him. “And now?”
“It’ll work until we finally manage to get inside.” Steve laughed softly, his hands at either side of my face, already leaning in for another kiss. I deepened it, my hand raising, my fingers catching in and tugging at thick hair. When he pouted against my mouth because I’d messed his hair up, I gave his top lip a playful nip and muttered with a quiet giggle, “You better get used to it.”
“You’re a lot bossier than I remember.” he mused, chuckling and adding as an afterthought, “ I kinda like it anyway.” about the way I just sort of carelessly played with his hair.
I rocked against his lap a little, getting bolder. Feeling the relief of everything being out in the open at last. His head fell back against the seat’s headrest and he groaned, bucking up into me from below, his hands skimming over my body, not staying in one place too long. His mouth breaking from mine to drag slowly down my throat and neck, briefly catching my earlobe. “We should really get inside.” he half groaned against the shell of my ear as his lips started to stray gently down the side of my neck all over again, latching on here and there, leaving marks behind.
I pulled back and rocked myself against him, giving a pout as I begged quietly, “Please?”
“Ya mean that’s a word you actually know, Charlotte?” Steve teased gently as he opened the door to the car and stepped out, stopping to adjust his grip on me. I wrapped my legs and arms around him and his mouth met mine all over again as he made his way up the walkway leading into his house. My back met the front door with a quiet smack and I climbed out of his arms, making him pout at me as my fingers toyed with the buttons on his black shirt, finally just pulling it open and sending a dusting of buttons plinking quietly against concrete. He chuckled quietly, watching a button settle and then his eyes were fixed firmly back on mine. And before I could even get a word out or take another breath, I was back in his arms and he was unlocking the door with as much haste as he could, his mouth latched onto mine as we stepped through the door and into the living room of his house.
His hand shot out, feeling the wall for the light switch without bothering to break the ongoing kiss. I could feel my lips swelling and the more I rubbed against him and whimpered, the more he growled quietly into my mouth. He finally found the light switch and my back met the couch. I reached up, trying to pull him down to my level and he chuckled when I pulled too hard and we wound up a tangle of limbs on the couch, faces bumping when we went back in for a kiss at the same time.
“Ouch. Your nose is pointy.” Steve laughed against my mouth.
“And? Yours is pointier, Steve.” I giggled. Our foreheads met and he bit his lip, staring down at me intently. A finger raising to catch gently in the necklace around my neck. The smile grew, softening as soon as he realized exactly what the necklace was.
It was a locket he’d gotten me when we were kids. Back before popularity and ‘eww, a girl can’t be your best friend. If she is, you must like her..” came into play. He got it for me on a birthday. I’d put a picture of my dad in one side and a picture of my grandparents in the other and the locket literally never left my neck, despite me keeping it hidden most of the time. It was the first truly nice thing anyone who wasn’t in my family had done and I guess after I put the pictures of people I loved the most inside, it made it easy for me to not take it off.
“You still have this?” his words came out in tender gasps against my mouth, then my throat. “I figured you probably put it away.” his hands were roaming back down my body all over again, squeezing my hips and making me rub against him. I drew a sharp gasp and bit my lip, staring up at him as I shook my head. My fingers carded his scalp, tugging at his hair and he groaned, bucking against me a little, both of us stopping to catch our breath.
My hand lowered, toying with the waistband of his pants and he stared at me. Our eyes locked and I muttered quietly, “I don’t want to stop.” as I unbuttoned his pants and then unzipped them, fingers shaky as I tugged pants and underwear down at the same time. Steve kicked them off after kicking off his shoes and after letting his eyes roam over me slowly, licking his lips,he breathed out against my throat, “Me either.”  an arm going beneath me as he rocked against me more slowly, his fingers searching for the zip to the back of the bodysuit. When he finally found it, he gave a quiet and triumphant laugh, tugging at the zip eagerly as his mouth latched onto my throat and I sat up a little bit, leaning into him, wiggling out of the bodysuit as best as I could until he stopped me, shaking his head. “I’m supposed to do that, babe. Let me.”
He took his time, lowering the bodysuit until my breath was coming in short gasps and I was pleading for more, scooting closer to him, just trying to push for any more friction than I was currently getting. When he got the bodysuit down to my hips, I slipped off the couch, slowly wiggling the body suit down to my ankles, slowly kicking it free. I bent down, pulling off the impossibly high heels and Steve sat there, eyes glued to my body, biting his lip and bucking against air as he whistled quietly and rubbed his chin. My hands roamed down my body, fingertips lingering lazily in a pair of black panties but he was on his feet, moving towards me in a split second, his hand brushing mine out of the way. He started to step closer, making me step back until my knees brushed the back of the couch and then I found myself on my back again, Steve positioning himself between my legs, staring up at me with lust blown eyes as he worked the clasps free from the garters that held my stockings in place and connected them to my panties.
“What the hell were you thinkin, wearing this out tonight?” His eyes met mine as he asked the question, daring to lower his head and dance his lips against my upper thigh. It sent a shiver down my body and I whimpered as my head fell back.
“Honest answer?” I asked breathlessly.
“I’d prefer it, yeah.” Steve answered, waiting expectantly. He made it really clear that I was not getting out of giving an answer.
With a few shaky breaths and my eyes fluttering shut for a second as he placed more kitten licks against my skin, I finally managed to answer “I wanted to look hot. And rub your face in it.”
“Even though you came with Byers to pick up Nancy…” Steve stared down at me, smirking a little as things began to click into place a lot better. “Oh.. Oh… So all that sarcasm was what? An act?”
“Nancy’s my best friend. I couldn’t hurt her, okay? I thought she...I thought she loved you and you guys were happy or whatever… So yeah.” I answered honestly, catching his gaze. It was the truth, now that I was finally allowing myself to admit it. Sure, I’d been hurt by Steve back then, but then he and Nancy started dating and I just… couldn’t deal with it. So I blamed the pain. Just to keep myself from feeling things again.
A desperate attempt to keep him at arms length.
“And now?” Steve eyed me, waiting on an answer. Since we were getting it all out, I couldn’t hold back any longer. I took a deep breath and a few seconds and finally, I spoke up to answer. “Now things might be different… Better. At least I hope they can be?” I bit my lip and answered quietly, reaching up to pull his mouth down to mine. Steve nipped at my lips until I could feel them swell on impact.
“Much better. I promise, babe.” Steve reassured me as he rose up again, working the fishnets down my legs. I wiggled them off my feet and they settled on the living room floor. Then he was back at it, intently focused on just how slowly he could peel down my panties. Just how much he could make me whimper and beg for him to hurry while locking eyes with me, a teasing gleam in his eyes.
I dragged my fingers through his hair as he lowered his head, his lips lazily settling on my lower abdomen stopping mid lick  just as he got my panties down my thigh to gaze back up at me and lick his lips.
“Steve, c’mon… Please?” I begged.
He took a deep breath, lowering himself even more, arms hooking beneath my legs, spreading me open wider. My legs settled over each of his shoulders and I shivered and giggled softly as I felt his mouth roaming up my calves. By the time he reached the sides of my knees, I was biting my lip and trying to squirm beneath him and I could feel myself getting wetter with each little kitten lick and gentle nip against the surface of my skin. I could hear his breath catch in his throat and he glanced up at me, licking his lips before lowering his mouth again, the soft groan shattering the air as his tongue rolled right up my center in one broad stripe. My fingers curled in the leather couch, desperately trying to find anything to clutch hold of as his lips locked over my clit and I felt him starting to suck and lick. My toes curling as my hips arched upward under his muttered command and my head fell back even further, despite my best efforts to stay at least partially upright to watch him.
“So sweet.” he muttered against my dripping and aching core, his tongue circling my clit one last time before slowly moving downward, two fingers slipping into me deep, working me open and scissoring gently, massaging. His tongue plunged deep inside and my whimpers and moans came almost breathless as I felt my insides tensing, the ache that had settled in a while ago only building further. I rocked my hips against his mouth and fingers and he growled against my core, teeth grazing against, the sucking and wet sounds of his mouth competing with my quiet whimpers, moans and gasps. The harder I tried to curl my toes or grip the couch, the more futile it proved to actually be. I was finally resorting to resting my hand on the top of his head, fingers tugging at his hair. I tensed a little more and he stopped to lock eyes with me, his lips and chin glistening with my juices, licking his lips slowly. “Let go, babe.”
I didn’t need any further urging. The orgasm ripped through me, leaving me shaky and moaning his name over and over as I raised a hand and dragged it through my hair. My mouth fell open and I had a hard time catching my breath for a solid few seconds. Steve was pulling himself up my body and leaning in for a kiss. I wrapped my legs around his hips, pulling him down closer to me, my mouth meeting his hungrily, a quiet moan at the taste of myself on his lips. Then as the kiss broke, I pulled back, nodding to the way his cock stood at attention. I licked my lips slowly and reached out, pushing him back, lightly straddling him. His hands caught on my body, digging and scraping and when my mouth left his to work down the front of his throat slowly, he arched against me, making me hiss as his cock grazed right between my folds gently. “Babe?”
“My turn now, Steve.” I drawled quietly as my tongue danced over his chest, then in a line down his abdomen. His fingers caught in my hair and when my lips caught on the tip of his cock, tongue rolling across slowly, savoring the taste of him as it filled my mouth, he whimpered. I glanced up at him, biting my lip and making my way back up to lean down and press my mouth against his, pulling us deep into another kiss that didn’t end until neither of us could breathe properly. The entire time, I could feel his cock nudging against my throbbing cunt and I whined against his lips “Steve, it’s my turn.”
“I’m not stopping you.” he teased, that lazy grin coming with ease as we locked eyes. I poked out my tongue at him and he raised a hand, catching hold of my jaw, guiding my mouth back to his as he muttered quietly, “Kissing you is probably going to be an addiction.”
“I’m not complaining.” I mused breathlessly as I started to crawl back down him again, settling between his legs, lowering my head. When I took his length deep in my mouth, my tongue rolling slowly over the entire length, he gripped my hair tighter, bucking his hips against my mouth gently. “Fuck.” he groaned, a warning tone to his voice as he reached down, tilting my head to make me stop. “Easy, princess.” he groaned out shakily. I bit my lip and nodded before locking my lips around his length again, the suction causing a quiet pop as I worked my mouth over every single inch. Steve was really starting to squirm and finally, I felt him tugging at my hair as he cleared his throat. When I looked up, catching my breath, he gripped my jaw again, guiding my mouth to his.
“C’mon up here, princess.” Steve reached down to the spot his pants landed at on the living room floor and after blindly digging in a pocket while not breaking the kiss, he held up a foil covered square, ripping at the corner with his teeth and spitting the torn edge out. I reached out, my hand circling his, guiding the condom into my own hand and I pulled it out of it’s packaging, giving a soft giggle. Steve bit his lip and leaned up and in slightly, muttering a soft, “What am I gonna do with you, hm?” as he gave me a gentle and loving kiss that deepened to a point where neither of us were breathing on their own anymore as it began to break. I worked the condom down over his length, giving a gentle pump or two after I finished, making him buck against my hand and start to whine as he pulled me back up his body, into his lap.
I sank down on his cock, a quiet whimper leaving my lips as I felt myself being stretched out and split in two. My hands raised, one going to the hair at the nape of his neck and the other to his shoulders, my fingertips digging in lightly as I stayed still and let myself get used to the way he felt inside me.
His hands gripped my hips and his mouth crashed against mine, his teeth tugging at my lower lip in the heat of a messy kiss. He started to pump me up and down, bucking into me from below and I moaned loud enough that it echoed in the nearly silent house.
“Ah, fuck.. Steve. Faster.” I begged breathlessly, but my begging seemed to fall on deaf ears as Steve seemed to be determined on fucking into me long, slow and deep drives. His mouth strayed from mine, little kitten licks and nips against my skin as his mouth marched down the front of my throat. His hands left my hips, moving up the curve of my body, stopping at the sides of my tits, squeezing them together as he dove his mouth down, letting it lazily latch onto my nipple and started to fuck into me from below just a little faster. I whimpered and rocked my hips back and forth, making him grip me even tighter, his movements growing a little jerky, a lot faster. “Charlotte, whoa.. Slower, baby. I’m gonna blow.” he warned, his voice a husky purr against my skin as he fixed pleading eyes on me.
But I couldn’t stop. Another orgasm was building with each deeper drive. I trie dto slow down, peppering his face and lips with little kisses and nipping at his neck, sucking to leave a mark or two behind. My head fell back as I continued to bounce up and down on his cock, getting faster and faster. By the time I really felt myself tensing up all over and the orgasm threatening to take over at any second, his hips stuttered and his cock bottomed out, striking against my spot a time or two that literally almost had me seeing stars. “Steve, p-please. Don’t you dare stop.”
“Oh, I’m not planning on it, princess. I kind of can’t.” Steve continued to plow into me from below, holding my hips hard enough to leave light bruising behind. His other hand wandered up, tangling in the back of my hair, giving a few gentle tugs that sent me whimpering and moaning as my orgasm shattered through at his quietly urging, “C’mon, princess.. Ride me. Get it all out. Wanna.. Wanna feel you, oh god.” and his lips really latched onto my neck, just below my earlobe. I felt my walls clench around his length, continued bouncing up and down on his cock, slowing down just a little as I clutched at his chest and dug my fingers into his shoulders and my head fell back. 
My orgasm shattered through me a second time and I moaned his name over and over. Steve chuckled and leaned up to mumble against my skin “Ready for me?” after a few minutes of letting me ride out the high of my orgasm and I nodded, going clingy and melting against him. He smoothed his hands over my hair and muttered quietly, “There you go, baby.. Just hold on to me.” as he directed my mouth towards his and swallowed up my moans and whimpers in a long and slow kiss as he started to really fuck into me from below, striking right against my spot a time or two, making me really moan as I held on. The kiss broke just as I could feel him throbbing, filling the condom and making me wet all over again.
His forehead pressed against mine as we both clung to each other, trying to catch our breath. He muttered softly against my mouth, “I heard your stomach growl… Want anything?”
“Just to stay like this a little longer.” I yawned lazily, leaning against him, practically molded to his body.
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augustheart · 3 years
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1, 9, 15, 20 for the writing ask meme!
This time around all of these are for fics by the way.
1. Tell us about your current project(s)  – what’s it about, how’s progress, what do you love most about it?
Like I said in the last ask at any given time I have a stupidly high number of projects I’m working on but I will take this time to talk about the ridiculously long one I’m putting most of my energy toward now! (The tab is open right now and it is taunting me with that “last updated yesterday at [...]” notification and its 32,427 word wordcount.)
I won’t say exactly what it’s about even though it’s not that hard to figure out and several people already know exact details but progress is generally pretty good! Not the fastest I’ve ever written because I write in fits and starts but it’s going pretty good! (Just jinxed it though for sure.) I’m working on chapter five of a planned ten, and I really hope I don’t overshoot that by accident. It’s fun! It’s definitely more like the things I used to write when it comes to like... the actual angst/“whump” part because there’s a lot of that here, and I’m very really mean to readers with a couple of these cliffhangers. Chapter two and chapter four are especially rude, sorry.
I love all of it. I love that I get to write about people overcoming hardship and coming together and also beating the shit out of people who hurt their loved ones. I genuinely love what I’m writing now and I think it’s probably one of my best works and I’m glad that I decided to write it all out in advance before posting it because I feel like that gives me time to really perfect it. It also makes it easier to go back and seed plot elements through the prewritten chapters, which is helpful because I keep forgetting about a character and going back to make sure that they get to be there because they’re, y’know, the main protagonist of the show. (Don’t worry there is still a character arc and a story she has, it just gets lost in the shuffle a little because there are like... six storylines going on at once that need to intersect. I think six, anyway. There are a lot. Jeez, I think it may be closer to seven, counting the villains...)
Anyway please [Eric Andre “let me in” voice] show me support when I finally post it because I imagine the fandom will be relatively in brumation when I finally do all things considered. 
9. Are you more of a drabble or a longfic kind of writer? Pantser or plotter? Do you wish you were the other?
I refuse to write really short things, it has to be at least 1,000 words for some reason, but I do both! I prefer my longfics, I think they give me more time to write plot and flesh out characters, but I’ve found that a good median wordcount for me is...like...6,000 words? That’s usually what I fall on when I limit myself to something under 10,000 that has the potential for more than just 1-2,000 words. But I do like to read and write both! As evidenced by some of my current projects shaping up to be over 50,000 words at least if they haven’t already left that count in the dust by now (hi, Half Light, you stupidly long son of a bitch). 
And I am the hellish combination of both! I usually know at least how I want it to end, but the entire journey from A to B is a complete mystery to me. Sometimes I’ll have elements I want to incorporate or characters I want to include and I’ll plan for them but I will never, ever write down my outline. The only time I write down outlines it’s when I need to know the concrete timeline for something that’s set in the past or is taking major divergent choices or both (i.e., I made a timeline outline for Heartless leading up to when Eric approaches Dorothy, a timeline outline for Two of Spades when I eventually actually work on that, a timeline outline for what I nicknamed the “I’m no longer baby I want power AU,” etc). Literally every other time I am absolutely flying by the seat of my pants. I don’t know what I’d do without Hedgi who helps me plot at least half the things I write (at least for the fandoms she’s also in), usually after I try to write them and immediately get stuck like a puppy who tried to jump into a lake and found out the shoreline was actually just a bog.
15. Which is harder: titles or summaries (or tags)?
Oh, it really depends. I’m alright at nailing tags down, unless there are categories I want to use that don’t already have a set tag, but sometimes when I think of the concept for a fic it comes ready-made with a summary and I don’t have to think about that at all, or I’m directly inspired by a phrase/lyric/etc and I can just use that for the title and spend hours deliberating on a summary. Luckily for the project I’m working on now the conceit can just be the summary, and the title took a tiny bit of research but I knew what I wanted the bare bones to be and I just needed the actual names/terms. I do think in general, though, summaries are a smidge harder than titles for me. 
12. Tell us the meta about your writing that you really want to ramble to people about (symbolism you’ve included, character or relationship development that you love, hidden references, callbacks or clues for future scenes?)
I really, really want to answer this one to talk about the different hidden references, relationship development, and foreshadowing that I baked into damn near every level of the big project I’ve been talking about because it’s in literally everything right down to the chapter titles (and there’s a hint to pay attention to them when you read, especially once we get to chapters 6-10, which I am extremely pumped to write), but I also really don’t want to spoil anything, so... time to be as numbingly vague as possible, I guess.
I’m foreshadowing that a character will develop powers by the final act, of course, but I’m also foreshadowing that a different character will not only develop them but use them to basically save the life of another character--and related to that, there is intense foreshadowing of a character using certain things to save someone else’s life at around the same time, which is not subtle at all if you know what you’re looking for (mainly because I slipped it into plain sight) but is part of some nice red herrings if I do say so myself. It also really makes me laugh that I decided to do some, um, “homophobia-shadowing,” where I just... imply that a character is homophobic. I dunno why I just think that’s a funny thing to do even if it has real repercussions for certain characters later. 
There’s some character development mixed that I’m really excited for because it allows a character to go in a completely different direction than they do in canon but in a way that I think still feels really right for them. This happens a couple times, actually, but this one in particular is something I knew had to happen the second I realized how to tie this plot thread back into everything else. I think it’s exactly what the character could’ve needed if this had gone down and I’m really excited to write it. The other character should’ve just been allowed to do this in canon because I think it would’ve fucking ruled.
Also, in everything I write that’s comics-based, whether it’s fic for the comic directly or for a show/movie using comics as source material, everything is a reference. That number code? That could be anything from the first time someone appeared in a comic mixed with the publishing date of the comic itself (i.e. if someone appeared for the first time in 1964 but the comic began publishing in 1959 I’ll use 6459 or 5964) to the creator’s date of birth. I think that I use famous writers of the character/potential creators of the character as street names or last names or aliases whenever I need to bring them up is a lot more obvious. Same with how I use writer/artist initials as “random letters” if I think a code would realistically have one mixed in--I just checked a document for an example of this and found “ADBP5519MWGK6419.”
I also reuse direct lines of dialogue if I think they fit the situation--for example, in Butterfly Effect I lifted the “World War I chic” line directly from Giffen’s Doom Patrol run, which I mentioned in the author’s note, and there’s dialogue in my current big project that’s a direct reference to/play on the “I wish you’d died instead of Mom” line in the JSA Infinite Crisis tie-in (Johns is a fuckin’ hack for that one though and it made no sense for what he used it for, a better line would’ve been “I bet you wish I’d died instead of Mom,” but we don’t have time for that), and I’ll probably directly reference dialogue from JSA/JSA at some point in chapter nine or chapter ten. (Think really hard about how that arc opens if it’s one you’re familiar with, lmao, and remember--there’s no time travel to undo things here!) 
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sorrelchestnut · 5 years
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EVERYBODY’S PICKIN’ UP ON THAT FELINE BEAT, PART 36
I came back to work on this a little and realized that I had enough to post.  And yes, I am still working on this, slowly but surely.
Part 1.  Part 2.  Part 3.  Part 4.  Part 5.  Part 6.  Part 7.  Part 8.  Part 9.  Part 10.  Part 11. Part 12.  Part 13.  Part 14.  Part 15.  Part 16.  Part 17.  Part 18.  Part 19. Part 20.  Part 21.  Part 22. Part 23. Part 24. Part 25. Part 26.  Part 27. Part 28. Part 29. Part 30. Part 31. Part 32. Part 33.  Part 34. Part 35.
Title: everybody’s picking up on that feline beat Author: Sorrel Fandom: Fallout 4 Rating: Mature Warnings: None Relationships: Deacon/Female Sole Survivor Series: Part 3 of everybody wants to be a cat
  It’s late when he gets back.  A few hours after sunset, probably, though he's not exactly sure how many.  His time-sense has gotten all out of whack lately.  He always gets confused at the tail end of summer, when the days aren't the length they're supposed to be, and he's gotten used to having a chrono on-hand, as it were.  Even if it's not his hand.
  There's just enough moonlight coming through the skylight that he can navigate his way through the dark, empty atrium, picking his way past the bodies they left where they fell.  If the Institute comes looking, they'll find a den of raiders that took advantage of their distraction to steal their chemist, and a bloodbath that followed when a Brotherhood squad came through to clean up the mess.  As far as anyone would be able to tell, they were never here at all.
  His knees go a little weak when he spots the short, lumpy shadow of the packs at the base of the steps.  Both packs.  She's still here.  She waited for him.
  He's not sure if that feeling in his chest is relief or terror.  Maybe both.
  His head aches as he climbs the steps to the second floor, moving dreamy and slow, like he's underwater.  He hasn't slept since yesterday afternoon.  Apparently it shows, based on how hard High Rise lobbied for him to crash in one of the spare rooms, but Deacon just dropped off his report and headed out with a smile.  There were one too many curious looks, people wondering why he was on his own.  Too many questions he wasn’t prepared to answer.
  There's a door open at the end of the hall: their makeshift bedroom, the one with no external windows and a minimal amount of blood on the walls.  It's where they slept before, waiting for the op, and it's where Whisper's sleeping now: curled up in a little ball on the stained mattress, with one hand on the knife under her pillow and the other tugging her too-big coat up over her shoulders like a blanket.  Her face seems hollow and strange in the faint greenish light of her Pip-boy, sitting on the upturned crate she's using as a night table.  She doesn't usually leave it turned on when she's not wearing it, says it runs down the battery.  She only leaves it active like that when she's trying to keep her comms line open.  She must still be wearing her earpiece.  Fell asleep waiting to hear from him.
  Ah, fuck.
  He's not sure if she heard him coming up the steps, but she doesn't move when he comes in and sits down on the end of the mattress, so he knows she's awake.  He waits, staring silently at the gang tag spray-painted on the wall, for her to say something.  Yell at him, maybe, for running off.  Demand what the fuck he thought he was doing.  Hell, even make a joke—it'd tear at his insides, making light of this, but what the fuck, right?  It's what they do.
  But she says nothing, and that's when he knows what he has to do.
  "When I was young," he says to the wall, "a hell of a long time ago, I was… well, scum."
  She stays silent, but he senses movement, quickly arrested.  When he sneaks a glance at her out of the corner of his eye, her eyes are open and fixed on his face.  He looks quickly away.
  "I was a bigot.  A very… violent bigot.  I ran with a gang in University Point.  We called ourselves the U-P Deathclaws."
  "Catchy," she says, her voice hoarse from the clinging remnants of sleep.
  "I know, right?  That's what happens when you let teenagers name things."
  "No taste at all," she agrees.  Her heavy-lidded gaze is watchful.  "So what'd you do?"
  "Oh, the usual.  Drank, stole shit, took inadvisable amounts of chems, kicked around trash cans—you know, the same shit hooligans always do when they're trying to make themselves look tough."
  "Sounds familiar."  She hauls herself to a sitting position, arms wrapped loosely around her knees, her back to the wall.  Her face is fully clean; she must have found some solvent to scrub off the last of the grease paint.  The green light from her Pip-boy gives her face a gaunt, somber cast.  "We all make mistakes when we're young."
  "A mistake or two, yeah.  But what I did…"  He takes a breath, lets it out slow.  "One of the older boys, he had a real mad-on about the Institute.  His mom disappeared when he was a kid—everyone figured she just took off, but his dad swore up and down the Institute must've taken her, and we all believed it.  So when we thought someone might be a synth, it just seemed right, y'know? We'd make their lives hell, and it was just.  It was fair.  The Institute took from us, so we sure as fuck were going to take back from them.  Any fucking way we could."
  From the look on her face, she already knows where this story is going to go.  But he tells her anyway: the whole sordid story, piece by excruciating piece.  She doesn't say anything when he tells her about the beatings, and doesn't say anything when the beatings graduated to a lynching, and she keeps on not saying anything when he tells her about getting out, starting over halfway across the Commonwealth.  The only time she makes a sound is when he tells her about Barbara—he hears a quick intake of breath when he says her name, so quiet he wouldn't have caught it if he hadn't been listening.  But when he looks over, she's just watching him, her face and body arranged into perfect, doll-like stillness.  Giving him nothing.
  "And that's when I got approached by a recruiter from HQ," he says, finally.  "I guess they figured I'd be sympathetic, seeing that I'd lost my wife.  And, well."  He shrugs, a short minimalist roll of his shoulders. "What I did afterwards."
  "They didn't know you used to run with the Claws?"
  It's the first time she's spoken in a while, and the familiar pitch of her sleep-roughened voice tears at his throat like a feral's teeth.  Deacon looks down at his hands, the fingers twining restlessly together.  "It'd been a few years, and I using another name. And I'd just killed everyone who could recognize me from that life.  Still.  Think I spent the first year, at least, waiting for the other shoe to drop."  Until the Institute almost wiped them out, anyway.  Then it was too late.  "Never did.  Nobody ever figured me out."
  "You are good at what you do," she says, neutrally.  She's not wearing her shades, but she might as well be, with how little he can get off her face.  "So that's how you ended up with the Railroad?"
  "Yeah.  That's me.  The best con I ever pulled, after getting Barbara to marry me.  Not like I was any more honest with her than anyone else."  He stretches his legs out in front of him, studies the toes of his boots so he doesn't look at her face.  "That's who I am, you know.  A liar.  You think I'm like this because of the job?  Hell, no.  I'm a fraud right down to the core.  Always have been, always will be."
  Out of the corner of his eye he sees her open her mouth, but keeps going before she can say anything.
  "I mean, why do I even lie anymore?  Who could possibly give a shit? But I do.  I can't stop. Everyone—Tom, Dez, even that asshole Carrington—they deserve to be in the Railroad.  You?  You're a fucking hero.  You belong here.  I don't.  I'm everything that's wrong with the whole fucking Commonwealth."
  "Deacon-"
  Her voice is shredded.  There's a shine of tears in her dark eyes, and he holds up a hand to stop her, panic scrabbling inside his ribs.  "Let me finish, okay?  I had a whole speech here."
  She opens her mouth, and then closes it again, very deliberately.  He sees her twining her hands together, as if to keep herself from reaching out, and has to look away.
  "You're my best friend, you know?  Probably, uh.  Probably the only one, since we're on honesty hour here.  You're… you're pretty much all I've got.  So."  He takes a breath, feels it rattle anxiously in his chest when he exhales.  "I know I don't deserve for you to be okay with this.  And, hell, I'm not even asking for it.  I just…"  He stops. Clears his throat.  Tries, and fails, to bring himself to look her in the eye.  "I just figured you should know."
  Whisper says nothing—and keeps on saying nothing, for so long that he eventually, inevitably, has to give in and sneak a glance back towards her.  She's still watching him, with that steady, assessing expression: the same way she studies raider dens and mutie camps and every stupid, gullible mark that wears their heart on their sleeve, like a lever just waiting to be pulled.  She's never looked at him like that before and he hopes she never fucking does it again, because right now he feels more naked than he's ever been, fully dressed and wearing his shades and still stripped to the bone by the brutal clockwork efficiency of her regard.  Whatever dusty fragments of honesty he managed to pry up for her ruthless inspection, in that moment he knows that she's observed and cataloged a dozen things more he didn't even notice.  He's taught her too well for her to do anything else.
  When he finally manages to nerve himself up to catch her gaze, however, she still doesn't say anything.  Just rolls up to her knees and shuffles down the length of the mattress, tapping the earpiece of his shades with an inquisitive expression.  Gut churning, but basically unable to tell her no to just about anything right now, he nods and slides them off, tucking them into the front pocket of his shirt.  She meets his gaze, makes sure to hold it, and then kneels up and swings one leg over his thighs.
  His hands come up automatically to to steady her, then drop away to the mattress like they've been burned.  She shakes her head and settles more firmly into his lap, clutching his sleeve for balance, and he reaches up again, tentatively, to cup around her hips.  She smiles, a little sadly, and then leans down to press a kiss very precisely to the middle of his forehead.
  Deacon closes his eyes against the stupid, inexorable prickle of tears, and she kisses each eyelid, light as a butterfly.
  "You do what you gotta do to survive, D."  Her voice is a low murmur; intimate, almost confessional.  The kindness in her dark eyes detonates in his chest like a frag mine.  "That's all there is.  You take one step, and the next, and you tell yourself whatever you have to to keep moving, because if you don't you'll fall down and you'll never get back up again.  I know.  I know."
  "Whisper-"
  "And you don't have to apologize to anybody for it," she continues, relentless and beautiful with the same steely determination that takes out raiders and muties and Kellogg and anything that gets in her way.  "Not Dez, not Carrington, not me.  Especially not to me.  Okay?"
  There's really only one thing he can say.  "Yeah, okay." It takes a moment to remember how to move, but when he does he slides his hand up under her hair to cup the back of her neck the way she likes.  "Copy that, partner.  Loud and clear."
  Relief flashes across her face like a lightning strike.  "Good. That's- yeah."  She leans into his grip, breathing a sigh he feels down into his bones, and closes her eyes.  "That's good.  That's exactly what I needed to hear."
  They sit together for a while after that, just the two of them in the quiet.  After a bit Whisper shifts so that she's sitting sideways in his lap, her head tucked into the curve of his shoulder but determinedly keeping her grip on his sleeve.  He wraps his arms around her, rests his chin on the top of her head, and closes his eyes, gratitude a hazy burn at the back of his throat.
  He doesn't know what the fuck he did to deserve this, but damned if he's going to look a gift horse in the mouth.
  Eventually, she stirs, nuzzling a haphazard kiss to the underside of his jaw.  "We should sleep," she murmurs into his neck, and he shivers at the hot wash of her breath against his skin.
  "Probably a good idea," he agrees, but he doesn't move until she does, lurching out of his lap with a grunt.  He subtly stretches out one leg, and then the other, trying to shake away the tingles as blood goes flooding back, and then drops next to her longways on the mattress, not bothering to take off his boots.  She immediately rolls over and fits herself against his back, wrapping one skinny arm around his middle and fitting her knees up behind his like silverware in a drawer.
  "Thank you," she says, into his shoulder.  Already half-asleep, he grunts something that might have been an interrogative, and she sighs and nuzzles against the knob of his spine.  "For coming back.  For telling me.  For being here.  Just. Thanks."
  His jaw works for a moment before he can speak.  "Anytime, partner," he manages, and then she flicks off the light on her Pip-boy, and there's nothing but silence.
~*~
    He would have thought he’d sleep for shit, given everything that went down last night, but when he wakes up the next morning he feels almost refreshed.  He's not sure exactly what time it is, their room being distinctly lacking in windows, but there's a hint of dampness to the air slipping through the leaky siding, a breath of fog the sun hasn't yet had a chance to burn off.  Still early, then.  They probably weren't out more than four, five hours at most.
  They shifted positions sometime in the night, and Deacon lies there for a while, staring up at the ceiling and enjoying the warm, heavy weight of Whisper sprawled across his front.  She's breathing quietly into his collarbone, not quite a snore, and he'd love nothing more than to let her stay there forever, but they do, after all, have somewhere to be.
  "Whisper," he murmurs, running a hand down her back.  "Whisper, hey.  Time to get up, pal."
  "Kill you," she mumbles indistinctly into his shoulder.  "To death."
  "Wow, that's rude."  He sets his chin on top of her head and hums a jaunty tune, some old pre-War ad jingle that never fails to get a rise out of her.  Right on time, she makes an annoyed grunt and digs her chin into his collarbone.  "Ouch! Here I am, trying to make sure you enjoy the fruits of your labor, and you can't even muster some basic civility."  Nothing.  "C'mon, gorgeous, it's a beautiful morning out there.  The sun is shining, the birds are singing…"
  "So shoot 'em."  She makes a spirited attempt to burrow down into his ribcage, tucking her face defensively under his collar.  "They're probably Watchers anyway."
  "You're such a pessimist," he says fondly, and tweaks one of her curls.  "I'm serious, partner, time to rise and shine. Daylight's a-wastin', and you wanted to be across the river by lunchtime."
  She finally deigns to open her eyes, tilting her head back just enough to look at him in muzzy-eyed confusion.  "I did?"
  He smiles down at her, helplessly affectionate.  "You've got to pick up Valentine for his procedure, remember?"
  "You make it sound like he's going to the vet," she says automatically, but then comprehension filters into her eyes.  "Oh.  Shit.  Already?"
  "They say time does fly when you're having fun," he agrees.  "And as much as I'd love to keep the party going, we do have an appointment to keep.  You know how much I care about punctuality."
  "I believe your exact words were 'for suckers.'"
  "Exactly!  So no one will expect us on time.  It's all about keeping 'em off their toes."
  "If you could just dial down the cheer like, at least thirty percent, that would be just great."  She hauls herself into a vaguely vertical position and then just hangs there, elbows on her knees, staring resentfully at the wall.  He nudges her in the back and she grunts. "What? I'm up, leave me alone."
  "You're lying," he says, very kindly.
  "Takes one," she grumbles back, but puts a hand on his thigh and squeezes in wordless acknowledgement.  That's when he knows: she's not going to bring it up, ever again.
  God.  He really doesn't deserve her.
  "Sticks and stones, Livvy-love," he chirps, and grins when she levels him with a death glare.  "What?  I'm just getting into character."
  "I hate that you're a morning person, just so you know," she informs him, and stumbles out of bed.  "If you don't have coffee ready by the time we leave, there are going to be consequences."
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knightofbalance-13 · 6 years
Text
https://rampantlytyping.tumblr.com/post/174581718969/for-fuck-sake
“Oh, it gets worse. Because I’ve read the archives of KOB’s reddit account. (Link here for reference, someone may wanna archive this in case KOB pulls a Delete Fucking Everything)
Never before have I seen something that would backfire so hard.
First of all, I’d recommend a look at the very first comment on that Reddit account, which was a screed about FatManFalling’s Volume 3 review. So much of modern KOB can be traced back here- has hatred of the word “the” and insistence on trying to replace it with “teh,” his long paragraphs, condescending attitude and personal attacks/insults (Also, for the record, “Fatass” is one of the worst mocking nicknames I’ve ever see on Reddit).
Actually-
https://www.reddit.com/r/RWBY/comments/5jdst1/cowardly_lion_taiyang_fanfiction/
This is. Thing is: this would HUMANIZE me. But god knows you can’t think of your opposition as human.
First is mischaractization.
Second is not a moral argument.
Third is conflating me being angry with who I am normally.
And fourth is downplayed since this whole post is nothing BUT a personal attack.
Also: Never said I was clever.
There’s also this post after Volume 4 which is basically “So the RWDE tag sucks amirite?”
No, the title is what I meant.
But a relevant comment that Caddeter and @psyga315 should see is this one. I’ll quote it directly, emphasis mine at the end:
Backfire in 3...2...1
“Now I know many of you are thinking “Why should I care?”
Well, because these people are in a dangerous mindset of ignoring everything that isn’t their opinion and warping that to justify their feelings.
I gave a comment on this journal pointing out the flaws in his work. The closest thing I said to an insult was saying that his usage of the term “man-pain” was stupid in any context. And when I admitted I wasn’t aiming towards him but his audience who weren’t sure about V3’s finale, he blocked me, deleted my comments (EDIT: he’s admitted to being wrong about teh previous two and has restored my comments. Still blocked but I have a way around it that he knows) and warped my words. Something he claimed Miles and Kerry did, minus the last part.
I ask of you: Say what you think about this. And not just the journal, what you thought of Pyrrha’s death. Not what he said, not what I said. But what you want to say.
Now GO!”
Now, if I was a generous man, this in context could be KOB asking for discussion on the Reddit.
I am not a generous man. To me, it looks like KOB deliberately inciting the Reddit post-Volume 3 (when they were most protective of RWBY as it was the last season that Monty would have definitely worked on) and encouraging them to dogpile the journal author.
Yeah...
Three things:
A. The time period this was made is post Volume 4, Not 3. So that’s bullshit.
B. https://www.reddit.com/r/RWBY/comments/5khw9y/my_thoughts_on_pyrrhas_death_rwby_and_rt_by_jswf/dbo9z0v/
Oh hey look, there’s someone disagreeing witrh me and I ENCOURAGED them. So that’s also bullshit.
C. https://www.reddit.com/r/RWBY/comments/5khw9y/my_thoughts_on_pyrrhas_death_rwby_and_rt_by_jswf/dboysk7/
Okay everyone, I have to ask that no one goes to the link and comments. The author is getting too stressed out by his debate with me and I don't want him to break.
So please, keep your discussions here.
Outright contradicted. Three strikes, you’re out.
And the worst thing? He had no empathy to the situation. Quote (again, emphasis mine):
“Well, don’t fight him. He’s…not right in the head.
Like I was arguing with him and he…wanted to kill himself.
And I didn’t even try being mean.”
Remember that in the Deviantart comments, KOB said that he could be “far far far crueler.”
As evidence by this post, where I am going to turn EVERYTHING against you. https://comments.deviantart.com/1/619991269/4290345087?offset=25#comments “*Sigh* Look, I never meant for you to get this stressed out. Hell, I understand where your coming from. Thinking about killing myself is such a common occurrence now I'm not even fazed by it anymore. So putting aside my feeling towards you and your conduct, I want you to listen to what i have to say: Your life matters. No matter what you think I've said, no matter what other people have said, no matter what you say, your life matters. You have friends and family who love and care about you and if you kill yourself, all it will do is wound those around you. It's painful I know but it's true. The best thing you can do is seek help above all else. Trust me, psychiatrists maybe be expensive by by divinty' sake they are miracle workers. And I know you're sick of hearing about this anime but really, look up Tengen Toppa Gurren Lagann. That anime is a large part of why I get out of bed in the morning even thought I know there's a very good chance I'll choke to death on my breakfast, lunch or dinner or that my life probably doesn't mean anything in the grand scheme of things. It taught me to keep moving forward no matter what I lose or what I suffer because there is a light at the end of the tunnel. The journey is hard and long but it's worth it. I never intended on hurting you. Had I known you were this psychologically fragile or you were this invested in Pyrrha I would have said nothing. I understand where you are coming from and I'm sorry I did so much damage to you. I was wrong and you were right. Good day.” No empathy huh? “Also while I’m here, how about this long callout post about RWBY Analysis after she was angry at some art from Dishwasher that had Enabler undertones (complete with the classic “I used to respect you” card which you can always imagine someone saying within the context “I used to respect you when you agreed with me.”). And here’s her reaction, which should be recorded alongside the Great Fire of London as one of the greatest burns in history.”
Ah yes, a callout post...Where I didn’t call her out once...
But I guess the actual post looks pretty fucking bad for you (https://knightofbalance-13.tumblr.com/post/172361707730/httpsrwby-analysistumblrcompost172345982047) since it is short and-oh yeah-SHE WAS SLANDERING SOMEONE. Good job completely missing the point eh?
But sure Knight of Balance. Tell us all about how you never meant for any of this to escalate and how sorry you were. It’s not like your own accounts show you to be a liar who instigated a harassment campaign and showed no empathy upon hearing that it was partially successful. You can surround yourself all you want with your little cabal of white knights like Sunder the Gold and MageKnight who will go to bat for you when they can. You can claim all you want that what you do is a crusade to purify RWBY and Make The FNDM Great Again or some bullshit like that because you seem to think that if you kill RWDE, Miles will personally fly out to thank you for saving RWBY. And you can even run to other fandoms like Darling in the Franxx or FLCL where your name isn’t poison. But we all know what you are.
I didn’t mean for thing to escalate as evident by how I TRIED TO STOP IT,
No empathy when I actively tried to call him down MYSELF.
That sounds pretty fucking ironic  considering that you surround yourself in haters like Dudeblade and Cadder there who will never ever think to question you or themselves. But as for that Sunder thing.. Well I’ll get to that latter but let’s just say, it’s a show of self control how I’m not screaming my head off.
Oh and you’re any different? You probably think ‘I f I get rid of all the fanboys, M&K will HAVE TO listen to my obviously not biased criticism and I’ll Make RWBY Great Again! Then Monty Sempai will rise form the grave to thank me for saving his legacy!’
Please, I’d sit Miles down and give him a lecture on how a timeline is VERY important for a long running show and keeping time skips vague to ‘avoid plotholes’ would in fact make MORE of them. Though I’d probably force him to attend a writing class, Just because I respect the guy doesn’t mean I see him as flawless.
Yerah, doesn’t work when I did the EXACT SAME THING I did here in Franxx. I obviously do not care about my reputation worldwide.
Here’s the thing: I do not regret many things in my time on the internet. I regret not asking about internet customs so i could know things like alt accounts were a bad thing. I regret my raging outbursts at innocent people because I was an immature fuckhead. I regret interacting with RWBYcrit. ... That’s it. My fight against RWDE? My battle against shitty critics? I do not regret that one bit. I fought for what I believed was right and got to meet amazing people along the way. I think I’ve even grown as a person. So no dice bitch.
You’re a schoolyard bully with a stick and anger problems. You’re a child throwing a temper tantrum, unaware of how if Miles or Kerry saw what you’ve said and done, they’d be disgusted in you and would shame you for the world to see. You are nothing. In the grand scheme of life, this will be your legacy. You will never amount to anything significant in this lifetime, and your life peaked before you even hit your twenties. KOB, I really hope you realize how in just under two and a half years, you have made nearly the entire fandom hate your guts.
... And?
Oh you thought this was gonna hurt me? You think you saying I have anger issues is gonna hurt me when I’ve acknowledged that as one of my worst traits. You think telling me Miles and Kerry would be disgusted with me is gonna hurt me when I am not them, they are not me and I am fighting primarily for myself? You think you calling me worthless and saying I will never amount to anything in my lifetime when I’m a fucking existentialist AKA someone who believes that there is no inherent worth in life? Bitch, I say worse things about myself every day.
And the rest is either lies (the fandom as a whole, even on Tumblr, DOESN’T CARE ABOUT ME.) or shows you’re projecting onto me (’You’re a bully!’ says the bullies.)
Let me break this down: We all hate you on Tumblr,
God, stop projecting your ego onto me, I know the fandom as whole on Tumblr doesn’t care about me.
You haven’t shown your face on Twitter
https://twitter.com/KOB13x
Shows what you know.
and when someone cited you in a Reddit post, everyone warned them not to link to you because you’re a toxic influence.
Considering how you’ve been posting links throughout this whole post, why should I believe you if you suspiciously DON’T provide proof of this. And again: stop projecting your ego onto me.
For Christ’s sake KOB, FatManFalling can get his stuff posted on R/RWBY. It’s extensively mocked, yes, but it’s still allowed.
To the point it regularly gets kicked off reddit for having massive downvotes.
You’re so bad you haven’t even got that privilege. Let that sink in and realize what it says about you.
A. Proof
B. Not the same context.
And C. I don’t care.
Because this is coming from someone who tried throwing Sunder The Gold under the bus by saying he associates with me. DESPITE the fact that we haven;’t talked to each other in MONTHS. Why did you say this then? Oh right, Sunder is a fan of RWBY ergo he must be eliminated right? Because anyone who doesn’t conform to your fucking hivemind and treat the show AND ESPECIALLY the creators like shit is a heretic right?
That’s why I do this. Because you people are fucking AWFUL in every sense of the word. Everything you just tried to pin on me applies to YOU instead and then we can add on EVEN MORE and EVEN MORE DISGUSTING shit to that pile.I don;t like Steven Universe but I am JUST as disgusted by SU‘s fandom and it’s bullshit. This has nothing to do with RWBY anymore, this has to do with you people DESTROYING INNOCENT LIVES. That is YOUR legacy: the ruins of people’s lives and the destruction of a show people hold dear all because you decided to embody the WORST aspects of humanity.
In short: Fuck you.
Oh, PS:
https://knightofbalance-13.tumblr.com/post/162724070290/rampantlytyping-knightofbalance-13-hey
Guess you’re in the same boat as me eh?
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ghostmartyr · 6 years
Text
Fic: A Terrible Idea [9/?]
Fandom: Attack on Titan Title: A Terrible Idea Author: Immi Rating: PG-13 Summary: Ymir’s pursuit of the hot cheerleader was meant to stay strictly lustful. But it’s a high school AU with a ship tag, so you know, fuck that. Notes: This fic has a thing about three in the morning.
Segment summary: Kenny imparts life advice.
I II III IV V VI VII VIII
Maybe an actual parent would have wanted more details about what kind of party his bereft, innocent teenager was absconding away to instead of bonding with her friends and siblings in a night of passably sober revelry.
With Kenny, the conversation went something like this:
“Can I ditch homecoming to feel up a hot babe?”
“As long as no one ends up back in the house while I’m making out with my boyfriend, I physically could not care less.”
He didn’t mention the boyfriend in words during the actual conversation. He didn’t have to. The man might as well have been whistling all week long, asking them how many hours they thought they’d stay out come dance night. He’d conned Levi into being their chauffeur and everything. He got a haircut. Sometimes there really was fucking whistling.
He gave Ymir the green light to go be surrounded by people whose neckties cost more than all of her organs on the black market without so much as a suspicious question. To the untrained eye, it was negligent bullshit that Ymir was happy to exploit.
Years of living under his roof said that he already knew every single person at the Reiss party and had personally threatened at least five of them with murder. Creepy, but if it meant he wasn’t badgering her about her life choices, swell.
Too bad a certain other person couldn’t follow the example.
There was one side effect of dealing with a parental unit on this that wasn’t so great. Cowboy Dad believed, so very dearly, in cleaning up good so the rest of everyone would fuck off. He liked to call this having manners. As someone who’d had to sign paperwork to take on a more active role in not caring what teenagers did, he also thought it was his solemn duty to impart some of these manners to the spawn he could happily disown at will.
Predicted side effects of that included small talk about not pissing off the people who had invited her into their home. Since Historia had been the only one at all interested in her presence there, that wasn’t the worst promise she could think about keeping, so fine, whatever, can I go now and so on.
Unfair fucking blindsides included the suggestion (suggestion, like every other thing Kenny suggested didn’t carry promises of life getting very unpleasant if the suggestion didn’t see some follow-through) to go out and fetch some flowers to present to Historia’s parents when she showed up at the party.
“She doesn’t like her parents,” Ymir had said. That was a large part of the point.
Kenny had looked at her, unimpressed in the face of logic. “Sunshine,” he’d said, “where in the hell do you get the thought in your head that manners are for people you like?”
An hour later Ymir was hanging out in a flower shop, stretching the boundaries of her artistic sensibilities to figure out just how ugly a bouquet they were capable of. Kenny had stopped just short of making her pay for the damn things, so she had room to work, but there was only so much she could do. The worst combinations she had so far said, “Your daughter has let someone with zero taste into your house, but the good news is they’re desperate for you to think they’re trying.”
When what she wanted was closer to, “Fuck you for thinking I care about your approval before fucking your daughter, also fuck you in general,” preferably in freshly-picked pastels.
Ymir had never been a flower connoisseur, and turning the notch on her style of aggression back to passive definitely wasn’t her speed, but she knew passive aggressive went best with pastels. From what she knew of the Reiss family, their entire mansion would be covered with the things. Kenny would approve of her commitment to speaking her hosts’ language, but she’d have to work extra hard to keep from complementing their color theme.
Her only entertainment for the day was watching Porco freak over how to handle being at a dance in Pieck’s proximity. She had time.
She was also an efficient multitasker.
Porco’s sneakers tapped loudly against the linoleum floor. “She liked the roses last year,” he said, nowhere near the rose section. He was looking at peonies.
“She’ll like whatever you get her, and they’ll be dead in a few days. Stop angsting and pick something,” Ymir said, even less interested in his problems than usual. Pieck had sent an innocuous text earlier to remind her that she liked tulips. Hint hint. Somehow they were all still pretending that it wouldn’t melt her overly devious, mushy heart to be getting flowers from Pock at all.
Except for Porco. He really was that clueless, so cue the hours of fretting over which collection of stems would brighten Pieck’s desk best before their inevitable deaths. Accompanied by Ymir for reasons beyond a good laugh and pity, all thanks to their weird non-parent’s sense of propriety. Bringing a girl’s parents flowers wasn’t good manners, it was something out of Victorian era courtship advice bulletins. Near the end, after the two weeks of knowing each other had passed and it was time to ask the patriarch for his daughter’s hand.
Ymir thought she had a good idea of how that proposal would go. Awed by her acute flower arranging skills and misled by her tailored garb, she’d receive the father’s blessing and it would be rendered immediately moot because Historia would never forgive her for involving him in their love life.
“It doesn’t bother you that she’s using you to piss off her parents?” Porco had asked oh, maybe seven times when Ymir broke the news about how she was spending her Saturday night.
“Not anywhere near as much as it seems to bother you,” was the only answer to that, and it still took three more tries before he gave up in disgust and stopped blocking the middle of the hallway so she could go to bed.
Porco had weird ideas about family. Namely, that they were supposed to like each other. His blood parents were dead, automatically promoting them and everyone remotely like them to sainthood. His brother was so fervently adored that any first year psych student would gleefully attach a complex to it. He seemed to find it personally offensive that Historia couldn’t stand the people who hired her a personal driver.
Ymir would have loved not to care. She’d spent most of the previous night happily not caring. She’d spent most of their friendly afternoon jaunt to the neighborhood flower shop not caring. Pock had responded by making it his life mission to do enough caring for both of them. If he didn’t have the stress of not asking Pieck to dance to look forward to, he’d still be ranting her ears off.
“You don’t even want to date her!”
Way to state the obvious. That hadn’t been worth any response at all.
Ymir looked around at the colorful displays surrounding them. All perfectly designed to suit Porco’s purposes of failing to ask a girl out, none of them meant to check off a politeness box that had been summoned out of thin air to make her life more difficult.
Garish wasn’t going to play. No matter how badly the bright colors clashed, all the flowers were too healthy and friendly to get away with being used as a fuck you collage. She needed something with contrast to bring out that deliberate eye-gouging quality. Some of the lighter carnations could work. Classy and decorative in a clump, but put them next to something with some flair…
“Ymir?”
Ymir tilted her head Porco’s way and walked over to a selection of painfully sunny sunflowers. “What now?”
The follow-up didn’t follow through. His shoes squeaked and his jacket rustled while Ymir carefully mapped out her success of floral offense. Signs pointed to a talk happening.
“I—never mind,” Porco muttered.
One of those talks, then. Ymir rolled her eyes and searched out the heliotropes. Past experience dictated no gathering of custom bouquets herself, because the cashier would cry, and that would hold them up, but the second she said she was done and they fetched Pieck her tulips, Porco would be back to questioning everyone else’s life choices instead of his own.
“It’s too late to be her real date,” Ymir said, stopping to smell the roses. “You should have said something earlier if that’s what you wanted.”
Porco crossed his arms and scowled at the hydrangeas. Somehow they failed to burst into flames. Maybe because he looked closer to bursting into tears.
Ymir took magnanimous pity on her baby brother. “Just do what you always do: Wait for her to ask you to dance, and instead of mumbling and letting her drag you away, tell her you don’t want it to be a friend dance. She smiles, your heart melts, you live happily ever after, and I owe Marcel ten bucks.”
“Marcel wouldn’t bet on this,” Porco said, showing off the kind of deep misunderstanding only idolatry could foster. “He likes me.”
“That’s why he bet on you growing a pair,” Ymir said. “Don’t go letting your big brother down, now.”
Porco sulked. He had a way of doing it audibly.
They were through the purchase of Ymir’s custom monstrosity and Pieck’s much lovelier tulips before he brought it up again. A true sign of growth; last year he’d started the conversation once and then sworn her to absolute secrecy.
“You think she’d want to? If I asked?”
A flash of Historia’s wide eyes under the snack shack lights came to mind. A glimmer of a smile that matched the glitter on her cheek, all of her face lit up by Ymir.
“Sure,” Ymir said distantly, “girls like it when you show some initiative.”
----
“You keep tugging at your sleeves and I’m gonna feel insulted.”
Ymir dropped her hand from her suit jacket. “Dressing up three times a year isn’t enough to get used to formalwear. Perfect fit or not.”
Kenny didn’t bother dignifying her with a look. He was driving, and whatever Parenting 101 class he had crashed oh so many years ago had drilled not taking his eyes off the road with children present into his head better than a construction crew. He simply took the next turn, and drawled, “Funny, and here I thought it had something to do with your nerves making a fuss over this girl.”
Did no one ever stop to consider that if she wanted their thoughts about this, she’d ask for it? “Could also be that your shortcut landed us in the middle of nowhere and there’s nothing else to do but pluck threads.”
“Ymir, if you’d caught a single thread out of place, you’d be crowing about it ‘till the end of next month.” He took another turn. Second-to-last one, if Ymir was counting. “Find a better excuse or rub two brain cells together and work out how to stop lying.”
Ymir rolled her eyes and continued looking out the window. The winding road they were heading down was pure black-and-white movie horror. All they needed was some lightning. If the Reisses hadn’t already splurged on it, they ought to invest in a drawbridge and a moat. Great for parties.
Cowboy Dad had volunteered to drive her, and keeping up with his creepy way of knowing too much about everything, had told her they were taking a shortcut he knew before she had a chance to hand over the address. She’d told him she needed to be dropped off at the guest house, which was a fucking thing, so maybe his idea of how to get there could use some help, and got a shrug.
With the look he’d given her bouquet when she presented it, she’d call it a punishment, but passive wasn’t his brand of aggression either. Punishments were delivered with a highlighted anvil.
She pulled at her tie. Kenny sighed loudly.
One last turn, and they came back to civilization. Or some over-glammed approximation of it. A large stretch of road away, a gate shrouded in floodgates heralded their destination, and if it had a giant R in the middle of it, Ymir would have a great start to her bingo card for the night’s festivities. Historia had written the security code for it down on her hand the night before.
The car slowed halfway down the street, going at the speed society could agree belonged to stalkers or people who didn’t know how  to read maps.
“You got everything?” Kenny asked for the third time that hour.
‘Everything’ in this case meant Ymir, the invited one, her phone, the toy she’d brought along for another tally in her win column with Historia, and the gate crashing flowers. “Yeah,” Ymir said.
Heading up the slight hill to the cliché gate, Kenny dotted in the code smoothly, and open the spiked monstrosity went. Step one of the night accomplished. Historia hadn’t explicitly said that she wanted Ymir to avoid talking to anyone on the property until they laid eyes or other parts on each other, but Ymir could read between the lines. Her invite said to show up an hour early and head over to where the staff wasn’t preparing for the party. Until the curtain rose, Ymir was invisible and waiting in the wings.
They drove by the house, also known as an affront to taste so brightly lit that Ymir had to blink several times to confirm that it hadn’t been decked in four stories of cheap Christmas lights, and hit the side road that would lead to the guest house.
Ymir had never had much money, but she had trouble imagining a world where she’d look at her grand mansion with its sixty bathrooms and forty bedrooms, and decide that what it really needed was a smaller house next to it. Just to remind the first house how much better it was than everything around it.
Kenny rolled the car to a stop in front of the whipping house, and in a move that said she wasn’t the only one feeling the horror vibes tonight, killed the engine. He turned to her with his parent face on.
“A few ground rules before you go in there,” he said.
“Was there some reason you couldn’t do this at home, or—”
“No drinking.”
Ymir unbuckled her seatbelt to slouch more effectively in her seat. “Kuchel was just giving Marcel and Pock this lecture,” she said. “If you wanted me to hear it, we could have left five minutes later.”
“Sunshine,” Kenny said, “you’ve never partied with rich people before. All you know about these folks is that a girl you like can’t stand them, and each one’ll have a lawyer on speed dial so they don’t catch consequences when they show off for their fancy friends. That’s not company you want to lose your wits around. No drinking.”
“Great. Next up?”
“No having sex with this girl until you see a clean lab report.”
Ymir was too fucking young and too removed from the blood pressure problems Porco had to worry about a heart attack at her age, but for a second her cardiovascular system, built up by all the recent running, submitted to blind horror and slammed her chest with a sledgehammer.
“What.”
Parent of the Year, showing his usual concern for his offspring, propped his elbow against the steering wheel. Not a sign of remorse or pity in his eyes, he said, “You want to go about devirgining yourself, you do it safely. No letting your hormones go so wild you need a medical consult.”
Ymir took a second to pave over her new mental scars. “Right, I’ll just send her off for one instead,” she said. That’s what all the appealing sexual partners did these days. ‘I really want to jump your bones, won’t you pee in this cup for me?’ With a dash of ‘my dad wants confirmation that you are as much of a touch-starved virgin as everything you do says you are.’ The absolute pinnacle of game.
Kenny was the sort of guy who had probably met sympathy once in a bar and shot it. “You want your bits to fall off, or you want a fun time?”
The bad answer to that was that Ymir just wanted Historia. In a lot of ways and positions, all perfectly lewd. Only when the thought popped up, all she could think of was the marker against her cheek.
“Asking her for clerical proof of how diseased she is sounds like a real riot,” Ymir said instead.
“You can’t work your way around that, you’re too young to be having sex,” Kenny said. “Falling head over heels down a flight of stairs is how you get concussions, and I have enough of that to worry about with your brother.”
This conversation was a better case for not skipping the homecoming dance than anything the school had ever come up with, and it was unfair to the nth degree that she’d still rather be sitting outside the reject house. Unquestionably, which meant, put together with Kenny’s magic sleuthing powers, Ymir was now promised one more fun conversation with Historia in her future, putting to graphic verbal life all the things she thought about doing to her and couldn’t, because they didn’t have the right paperwork. Historia would definitely be on board with that. Things to look fucking forward to in the middle of looking forward to fucking.
Cowboy Dad was committed to his parenting course. He could write his dissertation on this feat of manipulation and emotional trauma. Jackass.
“Fine, great, anything else you want to ruin?”
Kenny unbuckled his seatbelt and opened his side of the car. “Your tie needs sorting. Out you get.”
Ymir rolled her eyes and stepped out into the night under the shadow of the guest house. Since it wasn’t drowned in lights, it was actually capable of casting a shadow. Kenny rounded the car and began his deliberately pointed adjustment of her suit, undoing all of the casual muss Ymir had fidgeted her way into. He saved the tie for last, securing it much tighter than her style called for.
“Anything goes wrong, or you need pickup early, you call. Got that?” he asked.
“Are you trying to make up for not knowing me when I was five?”
His large hands held her head. “Got it, kid?”
Way, way too committed to the parenting thing. Ymir made a show of sighing, and saluted him with the ugly bouquet of flowers he’d coerced her into buying. “Got it, cowboy.”
He pecked the top of her head. “Then you’re all set. Have fun, keep the stupid to the minimum, and don’t be afraid to use a fake name if someone’s too interested.” He set her free and clapped her on the back. “Knock ‘em dead.”
Umbilical cord officially cut for the evening, Ymir sauntered off to the doorstep, respectfully resolving to fix her tie once she was inside.
With Historia.
So much better than homecoming.
Next
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CaptainSwan One Shots Rec p.9
Hello Beautiful Fandom 😊 , this week’s list has some old some new One-shots, all of them wonderful and worth reading! There are so many tropes in this list that I am sure you will found one to love! Also, I am thinking about what my next list should be about, got any ideas? Come and share! As always I try to tag the authors by their tumblr name if you know one I didn’t tag let me know! Hope you enjoy!
If you are intrested you can find my other lists here.
Farmer’s Market Hot, @startswithhope
It’s been a few months, so forgive me if this is rusty. Here’s 3000 words of Farmer’s Market flirty fun and farmhouse sexy times.
Subtle and Nuanced, @phiralovesloki
Killian Jones has an unusual relationship with a neighbor in which they exchange notes via cat. He’s also slowly falling for his flower shop’s newest customer. Surely these two things are unrelated.
The Werewolf of London, @initiala
Emma hates mating season. But it does lead her to a chance encounter with a stranger named Killian Jones...
Unexpected @hookedonapirate
Captain Swan Modern AU based on the prompt "I don't know how to say this, love, but I think you're pregnant."
Captured, @pocket-anon
Killian Jones is a promising student who enters law school with no family left and a hunger for vengeance. But three years under the guidance of the right mentors helps him find hope and a new purpose in more ways than one. (Captain Swan, Outlaw Queen, photographer AU, lawyer AU. Romance/Fluff. Rated G.)
Watch That Blonde Hair Swing, @captainstudmuffin
A woman who cuts her hair is about to change her life. Or so Emma’s heard before. 
Some Nameless Need, @allrightfine
No, David thinks nature will be good for all of them, help them reconnect with their roots (and here David laughed for a full two minutes at his own pun), and reconnect with each other.
And because where David goes, so goes Mary Margaret (legally, even) there's a whole theme to their weekend in the woods: Storybrooke High, Class of 2001, back to high school.
It's a carefully choreographed thing that saw Killian tearing apart his apartment for his letter jacket, Emma tearing apart her apartment for her jean jacket, and Ruby tearing apart the aisles of CVS in search of white eyeliner. (a high school friends go camping as adults AU!)
The Premiere, @sotheylived
U-Celebrity Troupe: Accidental Marriage.
A Royal Flush, freedomatsea
Killian Jones is an infamous gambler con-artist and Detective Emma was assigned to catch him.
Upon the Perigean Tide, @mahstatins
Perigree:
Vis: the point at which the moon is closest to the earth.
(Or, Emma Swan and the importance of faith)
I want it all,  @shoedonym
a little baby fic. If you catch my drift. 
Deal, @anythingandyetnothing
Killian borrows Emma’s car when his breaks down. Feelings quickly follow.
a wish your heart makes, @elevenjaneives 
Emma looks back at the dancers behind her. Neither of them noticed Emma letting a stranger step into her personal space to woo her in the most peculiar way.
Emergency Contact, @effulgentcolors
I hit you with my car and was the only one to visit you in the hospital.
Deliberate, @distant-rose
Emma Swan's sons were both unplanned and now she's deliberately trying for a third child. It feels weird. (Tumblr prompt for Wes's origins.)
Slowly, and Then All at Once, @captain-k-jones
Killian and Emma have been best friends since they met in college almost ten years ago. The only problem is that Emma has been harboring a secret crush on Killian for the entirety of their friendship. When Killian shows up at her apartment supporting an invite to his ex girlfriend wedding, Emma volunteers to go as his date. The events that follow are something that neither expected. 
Can't Strip It Away, @hollyethecurious
Modern CS AU where Emma works at a beauty salon, Killian comes in to get his chest waxed for the first time at the urging of some friends.
Once again, @losttalongthewayy
cs + Daddy Charming + baby numero two. 
Maybe I Won't Die Alone, @shireness-says
Emma just comes in for a drink, but ends up creating the foundation for something much better.
Rude,  Ayecaptnswan
'I'm on the verge of tears because of a rude customer and you swooped in and saved the day' au with a little twist.
Among Other Foolish Things, @blessed-but-distressed
"i have a crush on you and i'm too chicken to confess and you're going for a 3 month trip to paris so i'm sure you'll return with a sophisticated girlfriend while i'm a mess (optional sabotaging the trip)".
And Nothing Less,  flawless-captain-swan
Emma Swan was done. She was pissed, drunk and so totally, completely fucking done with her idiot of a (ex?) boyfriend. CS Modern AU
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blueraith · 7 years
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The way fandom characterizes certain characters...
Bothers me. I usually don’t speak out much against this stuff, preferring to ‘rectify’ these kinds of issues with fics of my own, and my own take on these certain characters. Characters that the fandom, for whatever reason, has decided that they don’t like and will portray them as terribly as possible.
Now, most of the time, this is done by warring ships. Those, I don’t particularly care about. Shipping wars have lasted forever, and I will easily write a fic or two about this kind of thing to fix my inner disquiet.
Parents, on the other hand, are the other. And this makes it so much harder for me to personally fix. I don’t know if it’s because fanfiction is written by a large number of young people, or what, but it’s clear that some of these authors can’t seem to recognize that problematic parental figures are not always abusive pieces of garbage with no redeeming qualities.
I have mommy issues the size of Texas. I know this. It’s typically the reason why, in my original work, the mother figures in my works are never the problem parent. It hits too close to home. I write what I wish I could have had. Which is probably depressing and a little pathetic, but it is how I’ve coped for a very long time.
I read an embarrassing amount of fanfiction. Typically because I am super Gay(TM) and have to depend on either dead ships (fucking bury your gays trope can go light itself on fire in a fucking dumpster) or crack ships. Either way, I’ve gotten ridiculously good at perusing and finding virtually anything I could possibly imagine by learning the most common ways people tag, summarize, or title their works. Usually, I will go into a specific fandom, read through the most recently updated stuff first, then get into the most kudos’d/favorited stuff next, then go into character tags, and then finally start searching additional tags or search terms for things that didn’t quite cure my itch for certain topics. This typically takes me a period of two weeks or so. After I’ve exhausted everything I could imagine, was interested in, or what was available, I leave for about four to six months, and then come back to start the process all over again.
Like I said, I read a shit ton of fanfiction. And I learn how the fandom thinks in broad strokes. There are fandom versions of certain characters. They are, for the most part, in character, but there’s this odd ‘fandom’ spin that writers of fanfiction have either created themselves or have latched onto and that thing will permeate throughout the entire section of the fandom. Be it a quote, behavior, or personality. One example would be Maggie, in a shit ton of fics, will find some way to mention that she’s a “detective, Danvers. I detect.” Like it’s her motto rather than a witty one-liner she said one episode and never mentioned again.
But that’s the most minor example of this issue. The most extreme would be the way the fandom characterizes Eliza Danvers. Now, I know her past. I know that she was hard on Alex. It was a plot arc that hit uncomfortably close to home for me. A mother who is far too hard on her eldest child and charges said child to take care of their younger sibling(s) to the detriment of their own well-being. It is a form of emotional abuse. One that I have, unfortunately, lived myself. Also the sheer, crippling fear of failure or of being a disappointment to said mother that Alex feels is another plot point that hits too close to the mark for me. The fact that Eliza acted as she did is not the issue I have with her role in fanfiction.
No, I have a huge problem with how most writers completely ignore her character arc and her continuing development with Alex and act as though she is still as awful as she had ever been at her worst. A low point that we only get the barest of glimpses of on screen in season 1. It’s maddening. Why? Because if my mother ever looked me in the eye and told me that she was proud of me and made a mistake in how she’s been treating me for the past several years, and then took steps to fix the problem, I’d fucking.... Shit, I don’t even know, guys. I’d be fucking ecstatic, to say the least. Because Eliza Danvers has been working on easing up on Alex. You can see it in what little we get of her in season 2.
(I may have also searched high and low for Alex and Eliza scenes on YouTube in order to find out if their relationship did indeed get any better. It did, btw.)
We can see the start of this in season 1, first of all, when Eliza breaks Myriad’s control over Alex by telling her how proud she and Jeremiah are of her. Without framing that pride around Kara. She specifically spoke only about Alex in that scene.
Season 2 Thanksgiving is rather telling in that Alex is still stressed out by her mom. And I don’t think that is because of any particular ugliness Eliza has shown her recently. Mostly because of her continuing actions in this season, but one also has to consider that, perhaps, Alex only got drunk in order to come out to her mom because she was emotionally scarred. This kind of trauma just doesn’t evaporate overnight. For god’s sake, Alex is like 27-28 and she still has a crippling fear of disappointing her mother. That’s not healthy, and it’s not something that will fix itself over a short period of time. I do not think Alex acted as she did because Eliza is still trying to be as hard on her as she used to be. (Not that I think she immediately turned perfect either, but that she has likely been working on being better.) But that’s not going to make a difference on the kind of emotional toll it has taken on Alex over the past 14 years.
And this suspicion of mine is further supported by just how freaking great Eliza was when Alex did actually come out to her. Eliza made some very specific word choices in that conversation. Alex has forever had an inferiority complex as far as her mother is concerned, but also as a more general flaw in her character. Eliza specifically calls her exceptional for a reason. I think she’s perfectly aware of how terrified Alex was to come out to her. For one thing, if she missed that Alex was really fucked up on Thanksgiving, then she’s super fucking blind because an infant could have spotted how hammered Alex was. And I think she did, because Eliza says that she knew Alex had been trying to tell her something. Not us. Not everyone at Thanksgiving. Her. Then there is the fact that Alex was moved to tears over her coming out, and that she had to choke out her fears that Eliza wouldn’t accept her. I mean, you can’t be any more clear than that in giving your parent the message that ‘you’ve made me really fucking terrified over whether or not you even love me.’ Eliza has proven to be very observant over these past two seasons. I don’t think she missed that firework display of insecurity that Alex set off there.
Then there’s the Danvers Family Reunion dinner in 2x14. First, we have Eliza giving Maggie a hug right off the bat, didn’t even blink an eye. I have no doubt that the only reason Alex went through with her extremely quick, yet hesitant, kiss on Maggie’s cheek right before that was because both Kara and Eliza supported her. She was stressed about Jeremiah in that scene, not Eliza, and I think that speaks for how their relationship has improved since her coming out. In that same episode, after Mon-el acts like an ass and accuses Jeremiah a few minutes later, Maggie is the first to bring Alex down from her anger, but if you watch Alex throughout the whole background of that scene, specifically as Jeremiah is walking Mon-el out, Alex is being comforted by Eliza. Again, more support that things are better between them. Alex could have easily stuck with Maggie in this scene. TV rarely does anything by accident. Eliza and Alex in the background together in this scene was done deliberately and it was developing their relationship further through body language. Specifically, I believe Eliza and Alex were facing each other, and Eliza was rubbing Alex’s arm in comfort. Doesn’t get much more clearer than that.
(Also, who the fuck accuses somebody of suspicious activity at their fucking family reunion? I know I’m behind in Supergirl, I’ve honestly not watched a ton of Mon-el simply because he is not a lesbian nor a sister of someone on this show. I am not about to unilaterally label him as a terrible person or anything because I know next to nothing about him. But for real. This scene gave me a bad taste in my mouth for him. Time and place, dude. Presumably, you at least have J’onn’s phone number. Call him up after dinner and share your concerns. Privately. Away from Jeremiah’s celebrating family. Jesus Christ.)
Anyway, the next thing I’m aware of, as far as Eliza scenes are concerned, is when Jeremiah goes through with the betrayal. She rushes into the DEO, and goes to Alex to comfort her. Kara is conspicuously absent in their conversation. She’s having her own conversation, but Alex was just in that same conversation with Kara. She was called away by Eliza by name. Eliza didn’t call out for both Kara and Alex. Just Alex. Because she probably knew that Alex would take Jeremiah’s betrayal much harder than Kara would.
I don’t know. I see this a lot. The 1OO have fanfic writers shitting on Abby. Vampire Academy has folks dumping on Janine. It seems parents are a sore spot for most folks. Trust me, I get it, but personally? I prefer to see these relationships improve, as they do in actual canon. (At least as far as Supergirl and VA are concerned. I have no idea about Abby and Clarke’s relationship because I didn’t get far enough in to find out.) Because it gives me a bit of catharsis that, even if it’s fiction, at least somebody is improving their relationships with their mothers. Because God only knows how much I want that for myself.
Whether its stories that repeatedly have Eliza holding Alex to ridiculous standards, standards she’s seemed to have abandoned for the most part in canon, or if it’s a high-school AU and they make Eliza really fucking homophobic (???? Like, that didn’t even happen in the show? Where does that come from????), there’s a lot of hate out there for her. And it bothers me. Because it’s extremely unlikely that I will be able to write something of my own over this subject in Alex’s voice. That’s the only way I’d be able to do it (because it would be Alex’s POV that I’m the most familiar with on this subject), and if I tried to go through with it, it would bring up a shit load of emotions that I am currently not able to deal with at the moment. This is a rare occurrence for me. I’m not used to having this kind of idea in my head and not being able to actually sit down and write it. I’ve compartmentalized a lot of shit I feel about my own mom, and even writing this rant has got me thinking too much about our relationship and the disappointment I know she will feel towards me very soon.
Okay, end of that paragraph. Can’t get into that. I don’t know. I don’t expect this to change anything. People will write what they will. I guess I’m wondering if I’m the only one who even thinks about this. I’ve been on a fic binge, I’ve seen this phenomenon a lot recently and it’s hit close to home and I’m feeling a bit fatigued over it. I harp on my less than perfect relationship with my mom enough in real life. I guess it feels more like a punch in the gut when I’m reading fanfic, have gotten like six chapters in, and suddenly “LOOK! LOOK HOW TERRIBLE THIS CHARACTER’S PARENT IS! aREN’T THEY THE WORST????” Like, yeah, I guess.... Because these scenes are almost always over the top. There’s no nuance. No one sticks up for anyone. It’s typically a scene of the parents just shitting on the kid, and geez.  As if I don’t already live that. I suppose this is how some people vent, but ohhh. It’s definitely not how I do it.
Maybe I’m just a tad more sensitive about this than usual.
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