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#hopefully none of these are banned tags
paletragedycandy · 27 days
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1/31 ~ | Gifts for Magpies | next> rating: G | cw: none | wc: 1093 | tags: modern muggle-ish AU, god!evan, worshipper!barty, made up religion | prompt: Sinner written for @bartyevanmicrofics
I'm going to try to use each daily prompt to write a little 1k piece in this weird AU. hopefully they also add up to tell a bigger story together. we'll see how that goes 🤨
💖🧡💛💚💙💜💘🧡💛💚💙💜💖
Evan was flicking the lighter, watching the sparks catch into flame, passing his fingers through it. Putting it out with his thumb until the metal plate was too hot and made him pull back with a hiss.
“What are you doing?” Pandora asked.
“Nothing,” Evan said. Now he wanted to leave the flame going for a bit, see how hot it would get.
“You don’t even smoke,” Pandora pondered.
“It’s for candles.”
“You don’t have any candles,” Pandora reasoned. Those were her thing.
“Barty gave it to me.”
“For candles?”
Evan pushed his thumb against the plate again and dropped the entire thing. That was hot. He put his thumb into his mouth, pressing his tongue to the tender crescent of skin.
“I think he stole it,” Evan said around his thumb.
“Does he know you don’t have candles?”
Evan shrugged.
“Can I have it?”
He let her take it because what was he going to do with a lighter?
The next week it was a keychain, one of the metal ones shaped into a swirly name. The name was Carla. It was in blue with a pink heart. Shiny and new. Shop tag still on it. When Evan dangled it from the hoop it would twist and catch the light. It was only painted on the one side, the other was silver.
“Who’s Carla?” Pandora asked. There were fresh flowers in her hair.
“I don’t know,” Evan said. “Barty gave it to me.”
“You don’t have any keys,” Pandora reasoned. She smelled like the end of summer.
Evan twisted it so it caught her light. She seemed fascinated by that, too.
“Does he know your name isn’t Carla?” Pandora asked.
Evan frowned.
The next week it was gum in a foil-backed blister pack.
“You don’t chew gum,” Pandora said as Evan tested the foil with his nail, denting it without perforating. It was fragile. He’d let the wind take the colorful packaging it’d slid out of.
“I think he stole it,” Evan said.
Pandora’s mouth pursed with thought. “Is he your favorite?”
Evan moved to mirror her. “They’re terrible gifts.”
But Evan let Barty give him the next one in person.
“Oh, shit,” Barty yelped as he went to toss what looked like a protein bar onto the altar. He smiled. There was ink in his skin and metal. His smile was wide and his eyes clever. “I didn’t see you there.”
Evan held out his hand for the offering.
Eyes narrowing, Barty looked him over. “A little young to be an acolyte, aren’t you?” But he handed over the bar.
“You stole this,” Evan said.
Barty’s head tilted, his posture loose and dangerous. He smelled like a sinner. Unrepentant. Too strong to be from a weekly petty theft.
“Why would I do that?” Barty countered. “You just go around accusing people of theft, do you?”
Evan looked up. “For the last three months, you’ve been leaving petty offerings that you’ve stolen.”
Barty’s smile dropped. “What? You gonna ban me now or something?”
Stepping closer, Evan breathed in the scent. “Leave something bigger next week.”
Barty held his eyes, smile coming back. Stretching.
It was a motorbike. Lime green, metallic flake. The following week Barty left it in the night and Pandora’s candles made it sparkle.
Pandora stood with him as they watched the police retrieve it.
“Are you going to let them take it?” she asked.
“Yes,” Evan said.
She looked at him. She was a dragon that needed to lay over their horde. She was clutter and collections and treasure. Warmth, safety. Fertile soil. Evan did not touch her things. Humans did not try to take what she had been given, what she grew from it.
Pandora was wrath as much as she was renewal and growth.
Evan was her counterweight. She had come first, but couldn’t continue without him. He was the colorful shedding of unnecessary things. Pretty wasting. Bare bones meant to survive the winter. The harsh death to make way for new life. One couldn’t exist without the other.
The motorbike was stolen, driven right into the temple and left at Evan’s altar. The acolytes had reported it.
There were tire marks on the stone.
He could still smell the exhaust.
The police took it to be returned to the rightful owner. Evan let them.
He found Barty at a pub on the first strong autumn day. The floor was sticky and the voices were loud. Barty wasn’t there alone, which Evan hadn’t planned for. Sometimes he forgot how social people could be. He rarely walked among them like Pandora did.
Barty was laughing, leaning over the table, his companions grabbing their drinks to move them out of the way of his elbows and knee. He filled the space of the person across from him, but his head turned toward Evan.
Their eyes met.
Barty eased back into his seat. The smile changed. He nodded his head toward the far wall.
Looking that way, Evan saw nothing that held his interest.
But Barty stood, excusing himself from the group. He walked in the direction he’d indicated.
Evan followed.
There was a door. It led to a bright, tiled room. The toilets.
Barty leaned against the counter with the taps. The noise was less here, but it smelled of bleach and urine and open water.
“Now, what is an acolyte doing in a place like this?” Barty asked. Evan liked the sound of his voice off the hard surfaces. He pulled out words, played with tone. A little bit of a lilting song to everything.
“I’m not an acolyte,” Evan said. He moved closer, so the scent of a sinner could overpower the others. Opened his mouth to taste it on the air.
“Well,” Barty said. He did not hesitate to touch Evan. Fingers to Evan’s hip. Just the one hand. All four fingers. Not the thumb. “You might want to rethink your look and stop lurking in the temple, then.”
Barty hopped up to sit on the counter and slotted Evan between his thighs. There was a chain on his jeans that jangled and rattled as it slid along the edge.
“Was my offering better this time?” Barty asked. He looked Evan over, mostly from the mouth down. He had eyes that planned. Fingers that wandered like dead leaves. Fell soft. Played on a breeze. Teeth made for bringing blood.
Evan was close enough to taste the sin now. Wanted to taste the sinner.
A pious heathen.
Enough to tempt a god. No reason not to taste.
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imminentinertia · 5 months
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20 Questions for Fic Writers
@ghostcat3000 tagged me. Thank you!
1. How many works do you have on AO3?
26
2. What’s your total AO3 word count?
188,069
3. What fandoms do you write for?
None. Um. I've written for SKAM and back in the day HP, I have a couple of outlines for KinnPorsche, but in practice I don't actually write now...
4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?
run down till the rain delights you
I like my sugar with coffee and cream (wtf)
But the prettiest sight to see
And up to the head
Bloody fucking sodding shit
All SKAM, all Evak. I'm not counting the actual no. 5, Knuter på tråden, because that was a communal Scandi effort where I wrote 2 short ones of 38 chapters.
5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?
I do. I think it's only polite to say thank you somehow when people have made the effort to comment. I can understand that massively popular writers in enormous fandoms don't, but me puttering about, sometimes even in Norwegian? Yeah, I respond.
6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?
It's a (true) drabble. It's Evak. It's here. I'm fairly certain @champagneleftie will never forgive me.
7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?
I don't really do sad endings, at the worst they'll be a little ambiguous.
8. Do you get hate on fics?
I haven't yet!
9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?
Fuck yeah. I don't really know what to say about what kind - hopefully the hot and not embarrassing kind.
10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?
Don't write them, hardly ever read them.
11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?
Yes. Fucking Wattpad assholes. It's been a true joy to see those accounts banned after reporting the thefts.
12. Have you ever had a fic translated?
Not counting the ones I've translated myself (sometimes with lots of help from darling @mynameisnotthepoint) from Norwegian to English, who knows. I've been asked for permission several times, and I okay it and ask for a link to the finished translation, and then it's *crickets*, so probably not.
13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?
Yes, with @himmelskys (Rake veien) and @vesperthine (run down till the rain delights you and the roll of the harbour wake).
14. What’s your all-time favorite ship?
That has to be Even/Isak, although Jaeyoung/Sangwoo and Vegas/Pete own parts of my soul.
15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?
I have a supernatural being Evak hibernating on my drive, but...
16. What are your writing strengths?
I do dialogue really well, complete with interruptions and repeats and various other little ways humans talk. Also I'm pretty good at steering clear of exposition and putting effort into showing, not telling.
17. What are your writing weaknesses?
Plot. I'm completely shit at plotting something. I'm great at world-building, but that doesn't really help. I keep to snapshot scenes, mostly.
18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?
I don't. I may put something in italics and drop a word or phrase into it to show that it's in a different language than the one the characters speak, but in general dialogue (and phrases!) in another language only serves to jar the reader and I very much don't want that.
19. First fandom you wrote for?
Er, if I don't count snippets I came up with pre-LJ it was HP.
20. Favorite fic you’ve written?
Eventyr (SKAM, Evak, fairytale AU, English, by all means read if you like). I'm ridiculously pleased with how I managed to make Even not-human in it.
Do I dare to tag someone? Probably not, but if you read this and write fic I'd like to see your answers.
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lookninjas · 1 year
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So I actually have a story about how the cover art for this last issue of FUCKIT came to be. 
For those who follow me and don’t blog the FUCKIT: the zine tag (thank you for that, by the way), you’ll probably remember that when I was recruiting for submissions, the image I was using was this guy:
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Super fun, right?  Definitely suits the theme of “countering a culture.”  Hideously relevant, what with all the drag bans and everything.  I’d put a lot of time into it (the tackiest art is always the hardest), and I’d enjoyed the time I put into it and I was very attached to it and that was the direction for the issue, I was sure.
I also made that decision back in, like, October.  By February, shit had changed. 
Some of that’s just February, to be fair.  Winter is rough, and the end is the roughest part.  Melancholy is a natural element of the season.  Some of it was Terry Hall dying back in December, which got me back into a lot of music I hadn’t really listened to for a long time, which got me thinking about different things (as music always does).  All the bits and pieces of ideas I’d been rolling over to find subject matter for the zine didn’t really compel me anymore.  None of the ideas that did appeal to me really matched up with smirking John Waters on the Cross.  But letting go of the concept seemed short-sighted, and potentially self-indulgent.  What if people had been writing to the theme I’d presented, with the imagery I’d given them, and then I changed it last second?
Then I read @ximen​‘s piece for the zine.
I know no one’s had a chance to read it yet apart from me (although that’s obviously going to change for several of you in the next couple of weeks, depending on shipping times, and also you can get the zine here), but to give some kind of context:  One of the running themes of the piece is Eric Clapton’s not-nearly-as-infamous-as-it-ought-to-be, deeply racist rant at a concert in 1976.  If you’re not interested in reading it -- well, don’t blame you.  It’s unforgivably bad, and his attempts to walk it back have been not terribly great, actually.  However.  Something genuinely good came out of Clapton’s bullshit, and that was Rock Against Racism, a group of musicians and activists who put on show after show after show in the UK and the USA to fight back against the rising tide of racism, facism, and nationalism.  Over the course of five years, RAR worked to unite ordinary people to fight against groups like the National Front, and inspired people to get involved by founding their own RAR groups, hosting their own RAR concerts and festivals...
And starting bands, of course, like a little group from Coventry that started off as the Coventry Automatics, and eventually became the Specials. 
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(pictured:  Terry Hall and Neville Staple of the Specials at a RAR concert in Leeds)
I’ve always been a big fan of provocation.  I love it.  I think people need to be rattled up a bit sometimes.  But I’ve also always been a big fan of earnest, sincere, dirty-handed work, in the power of ordinary people in sufficient numbers to make a real difference, and that’s what RAR represents to me.  That’s what the Specials represent to me, and that’s what Terry Hall represented to me. 
They didn’t free the world from racism, and that’s okay.  “You are not obligated to complete the work, but neither are you free to abandon it,” and all.  But they saw the way the culture was moving, and they worked to counter it.  And, you know, Enoch Powell never got anywhere despite having Clapton on his side, so you can’t say they did nothing, either.
So I changed the cover of the zine, to give tribute to them, and to give Clapton the finger one more time.
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The theme for next month’s zine is currently the Specials-inspired, “We Sell Hope.”  What that’s going to look like, coming out in a Pride month that sees the LGBTQ+ community under attack in hundreds of ways, I can’t possibly imagine.  I might bring John on the Cross back.  I might do something else.  Hopefully, I’ll be working on some voter registration stuff at that point, although we’ll see how it goes.  However it goes, hopefully we’ll see you there.
Remember:  Make art, help people.
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restartheartvn · 2 years
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maybe its cuz im high right now but ezra doesn’t seem like a yandere at all just some quirky alt guy who comes through your window and hears about your ex through some friends. thats surprisingly normal behaviour for fictional guys in slice of life shows so hopefully hell become more yandere in the story otherwise im out
and dont label your game as yandere if none of the characters show signs of it yet otherwise your just wasting peoples time. yanderes are “yan” which means mentally sick in the head and all youve spoken about with ezra makes him seem like a completely normal person. he does nothing creepy or shows any yandere behavior aside from what? knowing things about the main character? so unless the main storyline has him go crazy whats the point of it? delete the tags until the yandere stuff happens otherwise its false advertisement and you can get banned off of itchio for that
ezra also sounds like some guy your writing to pander towards desperate people with how he behaves. you make him unnecessarily respectful of boundaries and kinks when most yanderes dont do that or even consider it. its like the cringe “written by a woman for women” experience even if you don’t identify as a woman. yanderes are violent in nature and do what they want without considering the consequences. if ezra isnt a yandere yet then your just making a romance thriller game with pandering characters and ripping off personality traits from other popular games like your boyfriend and john doe
im also turned off by him sleeping around and having a long term fuck buddy relationship with another NPC. isnt it supposed to be a romantic fantasy game? isnt that what your marketing it as? if hes already whored himself out it loses the appeal for most players since they want a love interest whos not scummy or potentially carrying diseases. other people have had him so what makes him unique? i could just ask his latest fuck what a night with him is like and save my time. im also not slut shaming because im an OF creator and im by no means a blushing virgin but isnt this supposed to be a fantasy game? its meant to be different from real life and people use it to escape reality. no one want to romance someone whos fucked everything that moves. its unnecessary backstory and doesnt contribute to the plot at all
im not trying to be mean but as someone whos been in the yandere genre for a long time it hurts seeing people try to do justice for the trope but miss all the marks. just say your making a romance thriller and move on
My game is focused around a more subtle yandere, if the characters aren't for you then they aren't for you. No need for excess hate.
I would also highly suggest deeply looking into yourself to figure out why you think virgins are "unique" or "special" because that line of thinking can be very harmful.
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maesaeart · 10 months
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!!!Blog Relaunch!!!
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⸂⸂⸜(രᴗര๑)⸝⸃⸃Hello and Welcome!⸂⸂⸜(രᴗര๑)⸝⸃⸃
I'd like to go by Mae (she/her) and don't be afraid to say hi!
if you wanna see more of my stuff - you can find me Here and Here!
This blog is intended for more mature content (so pls DNI minors with my things thanks), I don't really fully understand how tumblr handles this kinda stuff (I've tried posting my work here before) but I'm planning on making previews and cropping my work to avoid flagged posts (つω`。)
Thanks for Stopping by!
If you've been following my twitter or just seen my work in general, might've heard that I've been trying to spread my wings onto other sites (away from twitter before yknow what happens... eventually)
(ಥ﹏ಥ) I tried to relaunch a blog like this before, like it was a recycling attempt lol an old blog of mine possibly got shadow-banned during the Tumblr-purge so none of the work I posted within the last few weeks haven't showed up on the community tags (⋟﹏⋞)
Anyways ^^;; thanks for reading and hopefully my blog is fully functioning by the time you see this!
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racingliners · 9 months
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Life In The Fast Lane Chapter 9 - Tarmac and Diamonds
Rating: Teen & Up
Warnings: None apply
Pairings: Original Female Character(s)/Original Male Character(s); OFCs & OMCs
Work Tags: Re-write of a previous work; Mentions of IRL current and past F1 figures; Eventual romance; friends to lovers; found family/work family; actual family; racing drivers and their various shenanigans; how to handle pressure (and how not to); with a sprinkling of the power of friendship; tags will be updated as work progresses
Chapter 9/57
Word count: 6.7k
Summary: Sophie finds herself in the French Riviera, as F1 lands in Monaco
Wednesday 24th May – Monaco
Monte Carlo. The so called playground of the rich and famous. With its glittering marina, luxurious hotels and casinos, it was nicknamed by many the jewel of the F1 calendar.
But to James, for the past seven years, it was home.
He turned the key to his apartment door with a firm twist, locking it tight, before securing the keys in his backpack and made for the nearest stairwell.
The race weekend schedule was always unique in Monaco. Custom meant that Friday was a rest day, so free practice one and two took place on Thursday, with Wednesday being the track walk and media day. Not that James was really looking forward to either, since he knew the circuit almost like the back of his hand. And it seemed that McLaren’s early upgrades had only bared fruit in Shanghai. When the rest of the teams had brought their upgrade packages to the previous race in Valencia, McLaren found themselves back where they were, languishing between the front runners and the midfield, in a lowly 8th and 9th place.
“Morning” James’ trainer Mike greeted him at the bottom of the stairwell, brown aviators over his eyes and his auburn hair looking freshly washed. As living space was at an extreme premium in Monaco they lived at opposite ends of the same apartment complex.
“You’re sure you want to walk in today?” James asked with a small frown as he led the way out onto the street.
“We’re going cycling on Friday, remember?”
“Right, Friday” James nodded, and took his own Ray Ban sunglasses from the front pocket of his team shirt and put them on as they walked out into the warm sunshine and began the fifteen minute walk down to the marina, where the team motorhomes had already rolled into town.
Another twist of the Monaco Grand Prix’s strange charm, was that the paddock was effectively split into two. The team motorhomes and engineering trucks were down by the marina, an almost ten minute walk away from the pitlane (which was even more unusual, as the team’s pitwalls were situated above the garages, as there simply wasn’t space for them in the pitlane).
James was long used to all of Monaco’s quirks, as long as he’d be able to drive the car on Sunday and hopefully score some points, he wasn’t really fussed at how jumbled the weekend was.
The walk to the paddock was quiet at least, one of the things James did like about living in Monaco was that there were no paparazzi anywhere to be found, as they were completely forbidden from the principality. (Exceptions were made during the Grand Prix weekend for the officially licenced photographers, of course). Occasionally a few other drivers or team members would walk or cycle past, but apart from that, James and Mike were free to talk amongst themselves the whole way.
“So,” Mike’s cheery voice cut through the warm air as he clapped a heavy hand on James’ shoulder, almost forcing him to turn his head to look at his trainer. “How are you feeling?”
“About what?” James asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Anything” Mike shrugged, still keeping a hand on his driver’s shoulder. “Thoughts for the weekend, the season so far, if there’s…” He paused to take in a small, sharp breath “…any problems with you and your team mate”
“I am not having any problems with Sophie…” James scoffed, and rolled his eyes behind his sunglasses for good measure. “And I’m fine mate, really”.
Mike hummed, but finally dropped his hand from James’ shoulder.
“Well, as your confidant slash personal trainer, I am allowed to worry about you. Especially after… you know”
After James and Petra had ended things for the second time right before Abu Dhabi last year.
Carrying on with their walk James took in a long, deep breath of now slightly salty air since they were almost at the marina, and let out an even longer exhale in the hope it would take as much of last year with it as possible.
Mechanical failures had been the main reason why neither he nor Nathan had been involved in the title fight last season. And McLaren had come through on their promise of fixing those gremlins over the winter break, though it seemed they had sacrificed a significant chunk of speed in the process.
Which meant that when the paddock entrance came into view, James rolled his shoulders back and had his best smile ready to go just in case (because some journalists really did take the look on a driver’s face alone as serious indication for what state their team was in).
As they approached the familiar turnstiles, James and Mike found themselves saying good morning to more and more paddock members. James even spotted Richard, who was stood a few metres away from the last turnstile on the left, talking with a shorter blonde woman who like almost everyone James had seen so far was wearing sunglasses over her eyes. She had a green paddock pass around her neck, and wore a peach coloured blouse with dark cotton slacks, with her curly blonde hair ever so slightly drifting in the breeze coming in from the harbour.
“Morning Rich” James smiled brightly at his colleague, who half waved back as the woman he was with checked her watch. There was something in the way her shoulders sunk with a sigh that looked somewhat familiar. So James looked at her again, and took in the gentle sweep of her nose, and somewhat sharp curve of her jawline, and the penny finally dropped in James’ head as he veered away from the turnstiles. “Good morning Mrs Knightsbridge”. His bright smile was completely genuine as he tentatively held out his right hand.
“Oh... Good morning” Her handshake was firm, but polite. “But please, call me Mary” Her accent was the same as her daughter’s. Very stereotypically English, but not posh. They even had the same hint of warmth in their voices. “It’s lovely to finally meet you James”
“Yes you too… No Sophie?” He asked with a raised eyebrow. Richard had seemingly been inseparable from his driver at every race so far this season. And from what James could gather about the Knightsbridge family, they didn’t seem like the kind that would travel to the circuit separately.
“Her and Vanessa decided to cycle in, so we walked down from the hotel. But the chain on Vanessa’s bike went so they’re running a little late” Mary explained.
“Ahh right” Mike, who had stayed a few steps behind James, quietly cleared his throat. “I uh… better head in, but don’t worry you’re in very safe hands” James gestured to Richard who gave a small smile in return as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. “We’ll see you in the motorhome” James gave a slightly awkward wave as he made for the nearest turnstile, scanned his pass, and waited for Mike on the other side.
“I am allowed to be friendly you know” He scoffed at Mike once he was happy they were out of earshot. “Heaven forbid I try to make Sophie and her family feel welcome around here”. It was true that Formula 1 had changed a lot in the past decade, both in the way it presented itself to the world, and the people that helped make it. And while there were more women and people of colour employed by teams, the FIA, or even F1 itself, there were still some people from the old status quo that weren’t exactly happy to roll out the red carpet for Sophie in Australia. In their minds, no matter what Sophie did or would ever do would be enough to earn her place in F1.
And Mike had been James’ trainer for the past five years, he knew the paddock well enough by now.
“You were turning on the charm a little too much” Mike teased as they reached the last of the engineering trucks, and made a right for the tightly packed together team motorhomes.
“Oh piss off!” James scoffed. Mike just laughed as they made their way down towards the McLaren motorhome, which thankfully for James wasn’t that far away as he was becoming increasingly tempted to chuck his friend into the sea.
“I mean I know, it’s really difficult being a very handsome very charming bastard, but don’t whip out the megawatt smile before ten o’clock in the morning!” James rolled his eyes and didn’t take off his sunglasses until he was safely inside the McLaren motorhome, and tightly hit Mike on the shoulder.
“Oh come on what was that for?” He winced as they climbed the stairs to the first floor.
“Being an idiot!”
  “Maybe we should have just walked in like everyone else… uh good morning!” Sophie winced as she wheeled her bike past a small huddle of Mercedes engineers. One or two of them said hello to Sophie as she passed, and she rushed to return the gesture before they were out of earshot.
While it wasn’t Sophie’s first visit to Monaco, having raced in Formulas 2 and 3 the past few years, the scenery of the principality always seemed to take her by surprise. From the dramatic cliffs near the French border, to the yacht filled marina, and the ribbons of road and pastel coloured buildings that were crammed in-between. As pretty as it was, Sophie wondered how anyone in Monaco had room to breathe, let alone live.
While Richard was leading the way to wherever McLaren had managed to find space for the motorhome, Sophie and Vanessa were more concerned with trying not to hit anyone – or each other – with their bikes.
“Yeah, we’re definitely walking in Saturday and Sunday” Vanessa groaned as Richard made a sudden left, with Mary quickly looking behind her to make sure their little group hadn’t gotten separated.
“You okay Mum?” Sophie asked with a slightly restrained smile. Mary just nodded as she tried to keep everyone together.
“Almost there, I promise!” Richard cheerily called out amongst the maze of team personnel, journalists, and team engineering trucks.
After what felt like an eternity of walking through the very crowded marina, the first of the team motorhomes came into view. And Sophie couldn’t help but gawk at what was very clearly Red Bull’s and Alpha Tauri’s base for the race weekend.
The regular motorhome she had seen at testing and in Valencia had been replaced by a barge that featured a smaller version of the Red Bull and Alpha Tauri shared motorhome atop what looked like the team’s own private pool deck. And if that wasn’t enough, images of all four Red Bull drivers were printed on tarpaulin that was stretched around the base of the barge. It was certainly one way to make an impression.
McLaren by comparison, had a downsized version of their motorhome for the Monaco Grand Prix. It was two stories high instead of three, and was a more solid cuboid shape. The reflective windows had been swapped for tinted ones, but the monochromatic colour scheme with hints of papaya remained as Sophie, Vanessa, Richard and Mary finally walked up the small ramp that led to the main doors. And Sophie finally let out a long exhale once she was inside.
She would never admit it publicly, but she very much considered Monaco to be her bogey track. She had the grand total of one podium finish in her three attempts at the circuit, and that was only due to the on-track winner being disqualified. Monaco was always an intense race not because of any actual racing, but because driving around the narrow streets was like threading a needle in a hurricane. It didn’t take much for a driver to accidentally or otherwise end up in the barriers. And that was before Sophie had considered the fact she would be doing the full race distance of 78 laps, as opposed to the measly 42 laps in the previous year’s F2 sprint race, where she’d finished in fifth.
“Morning Sophie!” She almost jumped out her skin as she reached the top of the stairs and saw James by the door of his driver room. “Rough time getting in?” Her team mate asked with a tilt of the head, clearly noticing he’d startled her.
“Something like that” She sighed as Vanessa entered the code to unlock the door to Sophie’s room.
“Ah well, just the journalists to worry about now” James replied with a grin as he clapped Sophie on the shoulder, and the pair looked at each other for a few seconds longer than normal. “See you later”
“See you” Sophie flashed a small smile at James before lugging her bike down the small corridor and into her driver room, and propped it against the wall next to Vanessa’s.
“You good?”
“Nope” Sophie sighed almost immediately, and flopped down onto the small sofa that sat opposite the massage table, slightly resisting the urge to bury her head in her hands. “I’m just…”
“Terrified of putting your car in the barriers tomorrow” Vanessa finished Sophie’s sentence as she sat down next to her driver, and placed a supportive hand on her shoulder. Sophie just hummed in reply and leaned back, looking up at the ceiling. “You do know that if all you think about is not crashing then-”
“I’ll end up crashing anyway… I know” Sophie huffed as she looked over at the person who was her personal trainer, friend, and emotional support all in one. “Believe me, I’m trying to let it go I just… can’t” She buried her hands in her hair as she took in a long, deep breath, and slowly exhaled. “I’ll feel better after my track walk… probably” Sophie pulled her hair out of her low ponytail as she stood up, and re-tied to so it sat on the crown of her head. “And we should probably go before my Mum drags me downstairs… assuming she hasn’t texted you already”
Vanessa hummed as she stood up and quickly checked her phone with a relieved smile as Sophie opened the door.
“She hasn’t, but there’s still time” Vanessa chuckled as she followed Sophie out the door.
  Friday 26th May
“Mon Dieu Sophie, how long does it take you to grab things you’ve had organised since last night?” Nico scoffed as he looked at his watch with an overly dramatic sigh.
“Well I’m not even close to being late so ha!” Sophie screwed up her face at her friend as she handed him her garment bag without asking. “Hi Dana”
“Hi Sophie!” She beamed and eagerly embraced Sophie in a bone-crushing hug. Dana’s work as an architect and increasingly in interior design meant that she didn’t have as much time to attend races as other driver’s partners. They had last seen each other back in April, after Nico and Dana had taken Sophie out to dinner to celebrate her podium finish.
Dana and Nico had met in 2020, when the company she worked for had been invited to the Red Bull factory in Milton Keynes to do some renovation work, on the same day that Nico in his then-duties as Red Bull test driver had been at the factory for a run in the simulator. They had started dating not long after, which meant that she had also known Sophie ever since. “It is so good to see you!” Dana said with a bright smile, squeezing her hands on Sophie’s shoulders. “And we finally have someone sensible to talk to” Dana grinned with a wink for Nico’s benefit.
“It’s about time” Sophie chuckled before looking over at Nico. “We love you really”
“Oh yes, of course you do” He jokingly rolled his eyes before going to check his watch. “But we really are going to be late at this rate”
Dana led the way out of the hotel lobby as Nico returned Sophie’s garment bag, and the trio walked out into the late afternoon sunshine for their walk over to the Grimaldi Forum.
Over the years the powers that be on the commercial side of F1 had found ways to fill in the traditional rest day of the Grand Prix weekend. Sophie, like a handful of other drivers, had spent much of the morning doing a sponsor photoshoot, before being freed to train with Vanessa, have lunch with Nico, Dana and her Mum, before squeezing in a quick shower to get ready for her final engagement of the day – The Amber Lounge Fashion Show.
No one in the paddock could quite pinpoint the exact moment it became a traditional part of the race weekend, but as the fashion show and accompanying gala was for charity, no one really seemed to mind. Around a third of the drivers on the grid were in attendance each year, as they even had their own slot during the show. Which was why Nico and Sophie’s garment bags contained some of their more finer outfits.
“I’ll be in the crowd, and Nico will be with you the whole time” Dana said to Sophie with a gentle hand on her shoulder. She had already changed into her ankle length navy chiffon dress which paired beautifully with her deeply tanned skin, and her dark golden brown hair was curled and styled in a half-updo.
“It’s not the fashion show I’m worried about” Sophie sighed, half-lying. Her main concern was ensuring that her ankles would survive a night in heels incident free, because there wasn’t going to be anything more embarrassing than having to pull out of the race because of a shoe induced sprained ankle.
When Sophie spoke with a sadder sigh than she intended, Nico stopped in his tracks, screwed up his face, and let out a small sigh himself.
“Habibi what is it?” Dana asked, looking between her boyfriend and Sophie.
“The date” Nico frowned, before handing Dana his garment bag so he could hug Sophie round the shoulders. “I’m so sorry ma amie”. Sophie let herself rest her head on Nico’s chest as Dana eventually placed a hand on Sophie’s arm when she realised what Nico was referring to.
That had Sophie not broken up with Tom after telling his parents they’d gotten engaged, today would have been their eight year anniversary.
Not really a day she felt like getting dolled up to be presented to the masses. If the fashion show wasn’t for charity, she would have twisted Vanessa’s arm into helping her pull a sickie so she could hide in her hotel room instead.
Nico and Dana had been the second and third people after Vanessa to help take care of Sophie after the fallout of her very brief engagement. She could still remember that week in mid-December last year clear as day. Signing her McLaren contract on the Tuesday, Tom taking her out for dinner to their favourite restaurant in Northampton and proposing on the Wednesday night, telling Sophie’s family over the phone on the Thursday morning… and then Saturday happened.
Tom’s parents were on the above average side of wealthy, his mother was the head of an estate agent, and his father a property developer. They had never sent Tom to a private school despite being more than able to afford it, because they wanted him to be ‘normal’. So he ended up in the same year as Sophie when they started High School. He never laughed when Sophie told him she wanted to be a Formula 1 driver, and he even went two a couple of her karting races before they got together. He had finally asked her out when Sophie won her first single seater race.
Tom had decided that it would have been best to tell his parents face to face, so when he and Sophie arrived at the five-bedroom Berkley family home, he had hoped that his parents would be over the moon to see the gold set emerald cut Diamond on Sophie’s ring finger.
But instead his mother’s face went white with shock.
“What are you thinking? Throwing your career away to follow her here there and everywhere” Tom, like his younger sister Alice, hadn’t went into either family business, and instead worked in IT. Even while Sophie had been sat alone in the large living room, she had heard every word Tom’s mother had yelled at him from the next room. Maybe it had been intentional. “I don’t care how successful she might be…” Sophie’s breathing had become more and more ragged as she heard Tom’s mother suddenly say all manner of things about her. That she’d never approved of Sophie being a racing driver, that she’d assumed Sophie and Tom would fizzle out either due to the increased amount of travelling Sophie did, or that Tom would find someone more ‘suitable’, whatever that meant.
Sophie still remembered biting down on her bottom lip as tears began to fill her eyes, and her engagement ring started to feel heavier and heavier on her left hand. Seeing Tom’s sister walk in with two cups of tea had been the last straw, as Sophie pulled the ring off her finger and left it on the coffee table. She would never force Tom to choose between her and his family.
“I mean, what was I thinking, getting engaged at 23?!” Sophie shook her head as she sat down on the nearest bench, with Nico and Dana joining her on either side. She’d found herself thinking about the end of her relationship on the odd moment throughout the year. She had loved Tom, completely. But there were times that she wondered if she’d said yes to marrying him because it felt like ticking the next box after securing her F1 drive. They had never really, properly, discussed getting married before he got down on one knee.
“You’ll be okay Sophie” Nico said softly as he took his friend’s hand in his.
“I am okay I just…” The fact that the most she currently felt was a small ache in her chest, and that she had been able to think straight in first and second practice yesterday, was a testament to that. “I’m making peace with it all I guess”. As was starting to be the case with every time she thought about Tom, she felt more and more at ease with the fact she definitely didn’t want to get married anytime soon. “I want to move on. I don’t know if or when I want to start dating again, especially since all the people I see these days are from the paddock”
Nico and Dana both chuckled.
“I’m sure that one day, you are going to meet someone who just… makes you so happy you’ll want to dive right into the deep end. So long as he respects you for who you are of course” Nico smiled, briefly glancing over at Dana. “And if that’s something you really want, then it’ll be okay… even if they do end up being from the paddock” He added with a small smile, and squeezed Sophie’s hand before letting go. And after letting out one final exhale, Sophie and Dana got up from the bench, and the trio carried on their journey.
Once they arrived at the venue Nico and Sophie showed both their F1 accreditation passes and passports to one of the people on the reception desk, and once Dana had gotten her guest wristband, a member of staff led the two drivers to the backstage area.
Vanity mirrors and chairs took up an entire wall on the left, half of which were filled with models, make-up artists, hair stylists, and one or two drivers. The rest of the space was filled with temporary cubicles, rows upon rows of clothes rails, and small sofas and armchairs wherever there was room for them. To the right, a large black curtain separated the backstage area from what Sophie assumed was the catwalk.
“When I told my parents I wanted to be an F1 driver, I never imagined it would involve anything like this” Sophie gulped.
“Ah, I don’t think any of us did” Nico sighed as he clapped Sophie on the shoulder.
“You’re Sophie Knightsbridge, yes?” A brunette woman in her 40’s approached Sophie almost out of thin air, catching her by surprise. Sophie just nodded. “Ah, you’re right on time. Come with me” She spoke with a French accent and walked a few hurried steps away before turning around. “Are you another driver or her boyfriend?” She asked Nico, completely straight faced.
Nico tried and failed to suppress his laughter before replying. “Driver, I’m Nico Dumont from Alpha Tauri”.
“Ah, good” And the woman turned round again, marching towards a pair of free vanity tables, as Nico let out some more repressed giggles.
“Of course you’re already more famous than me Cherie” Nico shook his head and hung his garment bag off the back of the make-up chair he was directed to.
“My name’s Marie” The woman finally introduced herself, and gestured for Sophie to sit down. “I’ll be doing your hair and make-up for the show” She explained while trying to peer through the small plastic window on Sophie’s garment bag. “What style is your dress?”
“Rose pink satin, it’s strapless” Marie just hummed in reply while she examined Sophie’s hair and hands. She frowned at how short Sophie’s nails were. “I can’t wear false nails when I’m in the car” Sophie huffed somewhat defensively. She had always kept her nails short out of necessity for both practicality and comfort, filed down to just past the tips of her fingers.
“That’s okay, we wouldn’t have had the time to put them on anyway. Can we paint them at least?”
“Sure” Sophie nodded, and Marie sprinted off to get something, saying that someone would be along to work on Nico shortly. Sophie pulled her phone out of her pocket to quickly text Richard that she had made it to the event safe, sound, and crucially on time. He texted back, both wishing her luck and saying that James was meant to be arriving soon as well.
“Ohhhhh no way!” Nico exclaimed, looking at his own phone with a wide smile.
“What is it?” Sophie asked cautiously, putting her phone into her backpack before turning to look at her friend. Nico gleefully passed over his phone, which was opened on the memories page of his Facebook account, and Sophie audibly gasped at the picture.
“No, you’re kidding!” The picture was of Sophie and Nico, both aged 14, stood on the podium with another driver (Nico had won, with Sophie in second) at the first international karting race they had both competed in together. Incidentally, they had only met each other for the first time the day before, when Nico had rescued a 9 year old Will from picking a fight with another kid who wasn’t exactly keen on being out-qualified by a girl.
Nico had eventually reunited Will with the rest of the Knightsbridge family, and Mark and Mary were so relieved that they offered Nico and his family to join them for dinner, once they found out the Dumonts were staying at the same hotel. Sophie and Nico had been friends ever since. “What do you mean I’ve been enduring you and your nonsense for ten years?”
Nico threw his head back and laughed as Sophie handed back his phone with a smirk. She was joking of course. Truthfully, she had no idea where she would be if she didn’t have Nico to turn to for advice, or to fight her corner. Something which Sophie gladly paid back in return without hesitation. She remembered Nico calling her on the eve of his F1 debut last year, as he tried to shake off any remaining nerves. He’d ended up dragging his Alpha Tauri into 9th place.
“Ah,” Nico grinned, reaching out for Sophie’s hand to give it a tight squeeze. “I love you too”
Eventually, Marie returned with a toolkit of make-up brushes, and goodness knew what else in a large pouch with more pockets than Sophie could count tied round her waist. She got to work on Sophie’s nails first, painting them a shimmering gold, before putting Sophie’s hair in large rollers. Much to Nico’s delight, as he took multiple pictures and videos of the entire affair to post on Instagram later.
“Have you ever been in a fashion show before?” Marie asked as she finished Sophie’s make-up with a few coats of mascara.
“It’s not something racing drivers normally do” Sophie sighed and pressed her lips together (though not too hard as to smudge her lipstick).
“Ah well,” Marie paused, taking a step back to look over her work. “You are certainly beautiful enough for it. Charlotte!” A younger woman, much closer to Sophie’s age, with strawberry blonde hair tied in a high ponytail shot up from one of the small sofas, and made a beeline for Marie and Sophie. “This is Charlotte, she’ll be your dresser”
“Oh, I’m done?” Sophie asked hesitantly, slowly reaching down for her backpack.
“Yes, all done” Marie smiled and handed Sophie’s garment bag over to Charlotte. Nico had left a few minutes ago, since he had less hair to style into place. Sophie politely thanked Marie for taking care of her and followed Charlotte’s hurried footsteps to one of the cubicles. The show was still a couple of hours away from starting, but the drivers were required to walk the red carpet first.
“It’s so nice to meet you” Charlotte smiled at Sophie brightly as she held open the curtain to one of the cubicles. “I had no idea women could be racing drivers until this year, I know you haven’t won a race yet, but I think what you’re doing is amazing”
“Well…” Sophie blushed, not really knowing what to say. Charlotte was far from being the first woman Sophie had met this year to be wowed by her presence. “I’m not the first, not in F1 anyway”
“Yes, you’re number six!” Charlotte replied excitedly as she closed the curtain and unzipped the garment bag, revealing Sophie’s strapless, calf length satin dress. "Oh what a beautiful dress! What label is it?"
"H&M" Sophie blushed as she toed out of her espadrilles. If Charlotte thought any less of it, she didn't show it as she slid to dress off the hanger while Sophie quickly undressed. "I didn't know being a professional dresser was a thing"
"Yes! Fashion shows are always so busy" Charlotte replied as Sophie stepped into the dress, and held it up as Charlotte zipped up the back. "Ah, perfect fit. Though I'll use some tape, just in case" Charlotte produced a roll of body tape from a bag at her hips. "Don't worry, it won’t damage the dress" She smiled reassuringly as she attached two pieces to the top of the dress, and gently pressed them down. "Any jewellery?"
"Uh yeah, in my bag" Sophie walked over to her backpack, and pulled out a shoebox, and a much smaller black velvet box. And as Charlotte took out Sophie's shoes, she audibly reacted when Sophie opened the small jewellery box, revealing a pair of small teardrop pearl and diamond earrings. "They were my grandmother's, on my Dad's side"
"They're very pretty, let me get your necklace" Both pieces were set in gold, and the necklace featured five small rice pearls scattered along the chain. Charlotte fastened it so it sat just on Sophie’s collarbone. "All done, you look beautiful" Sophie had avoided looking at the full length mirror in front of her out of fear at what she'd see back. It turned out that in all the time since breaking up with Tom to now, she'd forgotten how pretty she was.
Rose gold eyeshadow enhanced the swirls of brown in Sophie’s eyes, her cheekbones had been accented just enough to bring them out and add a small bit of definition to her face, and her lips had been painted a rosy nude shade that complimented her skin perfectly. Her look had been finished off with a blush of soft pink on her cheeks, and her hair that had been styled into large loose curls framed her face perfectly.
"What's wrong? Do you not like it?" Charlotte asked suddenly as Sophie’s eyes dropped to the floor. She wasn't sure how to reply.
"No, no I just... it's been a while since I..." Sophie glanced into the mirror again, noting that the rose satin dress gave her figure more of an hourglass shape than what she naturally had. "I don't get to dress up that often" She blushed, stepping into her suede nude heels. Charlotte had seemingly read between the lines, as she gave Sophie a knowing look.
"Well, you should. Oh, one more thing. Can you hold your hair back?" Sophie did as she was told, and felt a small dab of something wet on the back of her neck. "Eyelash glue, it will hold your necklace in place when you walk down the runway" Sophie felt the necklace clasp being pressed against her skin. "There, now you're ready" Charlotte said with a triumphant smile. "Your things will be put in a locker, just come and find me once everything's wrapped up" Already she had pulled back the cubicle curtain, and Sophie found herself rooted in place. "Own it" Charlotte said, tilting her head towards the backstage area. “No one has the right to make you feel uncomfortable in your own skin”
And after taking in a deep breath, Sophie stepped out of the cubicle, realising that Charlotte and Marie had put too much effort into Sophie for her to just hide in a corner. So she walked over towards where the drivers were supposed to wait, in the hope Nico would be waiting for her as promised.
  James couldn’t remember the last time he’d been at Amber Lounge, it might even have been as far back as when he was still driving for Aston Martin, but he wasn’t sure. Normally it was an event saved for the rookies and younger drivers. But the team had convinced James into going by saying how great it would be for their most recent world champion and most recent podium finisher to be seen together at the same event. Especially since McLaren were starting to think about gearing up for their 60th anniversary celebrations.
Plus, it was either the fashion show or a yacht party, and James hated yacht parties. At least this way he’d be with some of his fellow drivers, as he found himself catching up with Aaron Jones.
The dress code for the fashion show was formal, but not black tie, so the male drivers had a small bit of leeway in what kind of suits they could wear. James had opted for a three-piece charcoal and navy check suit, with a white shirt and burgundy tie – formal, but not completely bland.
“Is that Sophie?” Aaron asked out of the blue as he looked over his shoulder. James turned his head to look in the same direction and did indeed find himself looking at his team mate. He’d found himself noticing her a lot more than usual so far this weekend. But not in a ‘she was always the first person he saw’ kind of way. No, Sophie was the person he’d spot as he glanced round the room, then he couldn’t take his eyes off her.
“Oh wow” James said without realising. “Look at you!” He said louder, in a more affectionately teasing way, as Sophie walked over towards them. She blushed as she clasped her hands behind her back. “You look great Soph”
“Thanks… you haven’t seen Nico have you?”
“I think he went out to make a phone call” Aaron interjected before pulling his own phone out of his pocket, and asked to take a selfie with the two McLaren drivers. Sophie’s face lit up with relief when Nico arrived, in his pale blue suit, white shirt and black tie, and the two friends teased each other about how well they scrubbed up. James happily obliged when Sophie asked him to take their picture, and he couldn’t help but notice his team mate’s first genuine smile of the evening.
A few minutes later the drivers were eventually shooed off to the red carpet, which passed by in a blur of flashes and slightly forced smiles, and they found themselves seated on the front row so that when the time came for the driver’s slot they wouldn’t get in anyone’s way as they left. And for publicity purposes, of course.
As James sat down he smoothed down his tie, and as he inhaled he smelt the faint whiff of something sweet and floral. He took in what he thought was a subtle deeper breath, but it caused Sophie to quietly grown.
“I knew I put on too much perfume” She muttered, rapidly tapping her fingers against her leg. She was sat in-between James and Nico, who was chatting away to Marc Pavard in French.
“Oh no it’s fine really, I just wanted to know what it was. That’s all”
“You’re just saying that so I won’t get embarrassed” Sophie scoffed and looked down at the floor. “Orange blossom, for what it’s worth” She said quietly as the lights dimmed and the opening segment of the fashion show got underway.
After about half an hour or so, the drivers were quietly led backstage, and filed into order by one of the directors. It didn’t seem like the drivers were in a particular order – until James and Sophie were left until last, arguably being the most high profile of those present.
“You alright team mate?” James half-turned to look behind him, and saw Sophie looking blankly into the distance. “Hey” He reached out to gently place a hand on her forearm, and it worked in getting her attention without startling her. “Just… take a deep breath in and pretend you’re walking over to me to say hello”
“Uh huh…” Sophie hummed, pressing her lips together.
“Or, think about how happy your Gran would be to know her jewellery was getting shown off in Monaco of all places” He remembered Nico saying something about Sophie’s necklace and earrings when they left for the red carpet, and that netted Sophie’s second proper smile of the night.
“Thanks, don’t break a leg” She replied back.
“I’ll try” James chuckled, and turned round right as a group of models rushed backstage to change into their next outfits. There was a brief pause before the drivers segment was introduced to feverish applause, and a slick guitar riff started playing over the speakers, followed by a steady beat as Nico made his way onto the catwalk.
When it came to James’ turn he flashed a bright smile for the crowd as he walked down to the end of the catwalk, paused for a few seconds, then turned around. Only to be frozen in place. Sophie wasn’t just smiling as she walked out, but beaming – making her look absolutely beautiful.
And that terrified James beyond all belief.
Maybe all the long days at the track were starting to pile up, maybe it was because they genuinely got on with each other, or maybe it was because Sophie was exactly James’ type: friendly, smart and gorgeous, that he realised he maybe didn’t just like her as a team mate.
Shit, he’d told himself that wasn’t going to happen.
Working on automatic pilot, with his smile still fixed into place, James walked back to the top of the catwalk to stand in formation with the other drivers. And as she walked past Sophie, the pair briefly smiled at each other, the way good team mates did. Eventually when Sophie re-joined her colleagues as the music ended to more than polite applause, James put a hand on her shoulder and smiled for the cameras. And all he could smell was orange blossom.
He could start burying his feelings in a panic, but maybe with so many races to go until the summer break that wouldn’t be the best idea. Maybe if he just acknowledged it for what it was, a fleeting attraction at seeing her glamorously dressed up for the first time. After all, they’d known each other for four months now. Surely, if James really was attracted to Sophie, he would have felt something long before now. And maybe tonight was just a blip, a lock up on an out lap. Maybe if James registered what he felt, it would go away just as quickly.
Because he really, really, didn’t want to think about the consequences of the alternative.
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youcouldstartacult · 9 months
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dk if this helps since i follow you and i'm not up on the ins and outs of shadow bans but i can see your poll in the 'niall horan' tag but none of the posts after that, but i don't think you tagged them with it so hopefully it's fine?!?! dk why you'd be shadow banned, you're great
thank you!
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lindsaywesker · 2 years
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Good morning! I hope you slept well and feel rested? Currently sitting at my desk, in my study, attired only in my blue towelling robe, enjoying my first cuppa of the day.
It’s amazing how certain headlines just quietly disappear from the front pages. Nobody’s talking about the Covid-19 death rate anymore. A colleague of mine has just contracted it and I’ve been asked to cover his classes until the end of term! As you know, there are lots of health experts that attended the You Tube School Of Medicine, and they sure would be shocked to know that 332 more people died from Covid between Tuesday, May 31 and Tuesday, June 7. Me, personally, I still wear my mask on public transport and in all supermarkets, shops, garages etc. People look at me like I’m a bit mad, but I suspect many of them got their honorary online medical degree from some conspiracy theorist on WhatsApp. Me and The Trouble are clean as a whistle (because I have a stockpile of Rapid Antigen Tests). I can’t speak for anyone else. I guess people will do what they want to do? And then, all of a sudden, they’ll catch the virus and go, “Wow! I didn’t think you could still catch this!” And then, all of a sudden, they’re a corpse on a slab. Oh, well. Global death total: 6.3 million. Good thing it’s just another kind of flu!
Another headline that’s disappeared from the front page is the £37 billion of taxpayer money given to Baroness Dido Harding for a ‘test and trace’ scheme that didn’t work! Where did the money go, love? Still, nobody knows!
Nobody mentions Partygate anymore either! While we were stuck indoors, observing the law, the PM, government ministers and the PM’s staff were having countless parties and drinking so much alcohol that people were sick up the wall! Yeah, the police came down hard on them, issuing paltry fines that were paid by – guess who? – you and me! In fact, guess who’s being prosecuted for holding a public gathering during lockdown? Six of the women at the Sarah Everard vigil. You couldn’t make it up. Policeman Wayne Couzens raped and murdered Sarah, and now the police want to prosecute six of the women at her vigil for breaking lockdown rules. Wow! Stick the knife in, twist it, take it out, plunge it back in again! That story’s not on the front page either!
Yes, the fifth horseman of the apocalypse is definitely Misinformation! As John Lennon sang back in 1971, “I've had enough of reading things by neurotic, psychotic, pig-headed politicians, all I want is the truth, just give me some truth.” Sometimes you can’t even get any truth from your relatives or your circle of friends. People start acting weird, you ask them, “What’s up?” They say, “Nothing!” And you’re none the wiser! Suddenly, a situation or a dynamic will change for no reason and it’s impossible to find out why! Have you ever had that? Thankfully, I’m too busy to dwell on shit like this for too long.
For art, photography, architecture and thought-provoking memes, Tumblr cannot be beat. I really enjoy it. When the adult content was banned, it lost literally millions of subscribers, so now we’re just left with culture junkies and sardonic commentators like me. The most interesting thing I read on there yesterday was, “If men wore price tags, how would you feel?” and there was an illustration of three ordinary white guys with a price tag around their neck. So, single people, how would you feel if men had price tags around their neck? I guess, signifying their value? Would it help you choose better partners? And, attached people, how would you feel if your man had a price tag around his neck, so everyone could see what he was actually worth? That made me think! How much would I be worth? Less than I think I’m worth or more?
Have a throbbing and thrusting Thursday (with hopefully a few thrills through your thoroughfare?) I love you all.
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thefloatingstone · 2 years
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btw here’s part 1 of the NHK Hayao Miyazaki documentary I mentioned. Since for some reason it’s tricky to find on NHK’s website. It’s free until 2026
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so, i wanted to write a fic inspired by the new spider-man movie, and somehow. i ended up with this? it's like if someone said "apple" and suddenly i wrote a song about oranges
so, sort of spoilers? maybe? tbh idk but the movie is good, go watch it y'all
anyway amphibia angst here we goooooooo
There was a flash of green light.
An agonized screech tore itself out of Marcy’s lungs as her body convulsed with bright orange electricity, her limbs spasming as her eyes turned wild with unbearable pain.
Then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, the orange electricity flickered out and Marcy groaned, her soft brown eyes flashing a bright green before rolling back in her head, the small black-haired girl collapsing limply to the ground.
“Marcy!” Anne shrieked.
Her legs cried in protest as she raced through the rubble to her fallen friend(?), but she wouldn’t, couldn’t stop – Marcy wasn’t moving, and as Anne got closer, she realized the other girl was lying in a growing pool of her own blood, wheezing.
“Marcy!” Anne cried again, pulling the injured girl into her lap. “Hey, hey, you’re okay, you’re okay. I’ve got you, I got you.”
“Anne...?” Marcy whimpered weakly, her eyes fluttering open.
“Hey, hey, you’re okay,” Anne whispered, struggling to keep her voice even as Marcy fell into a violent coughing fit, the small girl’s chest heaving with obvious effort. She tried to ignore the blood spraying past Marcy’s lips and splattering onto the rubble-strewn floor. “I’ve got you, you’re okay, I promise you’re okay. I’m not letting you go again.”
“Annie,” Marcy rasped, eyes dull.
“You’re okay,” the brown-haired girl sobbed, pulling her maybe-friend closer, voice trembling. “You’re okay, you’re okay, I promise you, you’re okay.”
“Anne.”
“You’re okay.” Maybe if she said it enough, it would come true. “You’re gonna’ – you’re gonna’ be okay.”
“Anne, listen to me.”
“No, Mar-Mar, please-”
“Anne.” Marcy’s skin was unnaturally cold as she rested a calloused hand on her cheek. “I’m not-” Marcy coughed. “... I’m not going to be okay.”
“Nonononono, don’t say that,” Anne protested, tears painful tears stinging her eyes. “I’m going to take you home, okay? We’re all going home together, you, Sasha, and I. We’re going home, I’m bringing us all home.”
“Anne, thank you... for making sure I don’t hurt anybody else.” Marcy’s eyes closed. “I’m just... so sorry, for everything.”
“No, nononono, Marcy no,” Anne begged, trembling. “D-don’t – don’t s-say that. P-please.”
She didn’t respond.
“Anne, Marcy!”
Anne’s head snapped around as a familiar blond-haired girl stumbled into the room. Sasha froze as her eyes landed on the bloody scene in front of her – one of her best friends was wailing in despair while the other was dying not moving.
“... Marcy...?” Sasha breathed, tears springing to her eyes. “Marcy...? Marcy? Marcy!”
A horrified wail escaped her throat as she dropped to her knees beside her two best friends. Trembling, she brushed a loch of rouge oily black hair resting over Marcy’s eyes to behind her ear, trying not to sob as she held the injured girl close to her chest.
“Sash...y...?” Marcy slurred. “I’m glad... that I got to see you again... one last time...”
“Marshmallow, nonononono,” Sasha stammered. “No, I can’t lose you, n-not again, I-I-” She hiccupped. “Please, d-don’t leave me, I can’t... I c-can’t l-lose you again...”
“I love you girls, so much.”
“Marcy...? Marcy? Marcy!”
She didn’t respond.
Her blood stained the stone beneath her.
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rrainingart · 2 years
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for someone who rraines art, i really don’t post much of it on here. Have some Shadownath for a story I still want to write. It’s....number 17 on the WIP list sobs
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shima-draws · 4 years
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LMAOOOO I GOT SHADOWBANNED
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Hi everyone! Just putting the word out that my best girl @demonfamilytherapist has been shadow-banned by this broken website.
She’s in the process of trying to get it repealed but until it is none of her comments or reblogs are showing up in notifications, and her (amazing, wonderful, heartbreaking) fics and other posts are hidden from general tag searches. I’m just here to help her spread the word as her own post about it likely won’t show up unless you’re on her blog.
Please go and show her some love in the meantime 💛 hopefully this will be fixed quickly!
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fuzzy-melonlord · 2 years
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Alrightie, as the one with the most votes we've got Babe on deck! Fun fact, their chapter and Angel's chapters were the ones that gave me the most trouble when I was plotting lol. And if you have someone you wanna see next let me know! I’ve still got Darlin, Angel, and Sweetheart left! I hope you enjoy! (I didn’t tag babe tho since IOS has banned the word T^T) 
Pairing: mentions of Asher/Babe  WC: 1.7K TW: Anxiety Genre: Bodyswap au! Chapter 1
This was wrong.
Sure, sleepwalking wasn’t something that had ever happened to Babe before but there is always a first time for everything. The bigger concern was the fact that APPARENTLY they had decided that sleep cooking was a good idea too. Which was extremely dangerous, they could have burned the damn house down and they wouldn’t have known
What was really confusing them was, Asher usually woke up if they left the bed. He was an extremely light sleeper and would whine if they tried to leave him before it was time for work. It was an almost daily struggle to leave if they were ever scheduled before him. Of course he never actually made them late, he just liked putting on the clingy act and Babe thought it was cute so they had never really fought against it. So…where was he? If they had gotten up to cook in their sleep there would be no way that their mate wouldn’t have either woken them up or supervised them in the form of recording them and laughing. 
It all felt wrong.
So quickly they went to turn off the burner, deciding that whatever they were cooking wasn’t worth it. Yet when they went to reach for the burner it was in the wrong place. The oven in their apartment was located at the back of the oven but this one, the knobs were on the front right above the oven door. One more strike on how confusing tonight was becoming. 
Leaving the pot on the burner, they turned on their heel to return to their bedroom only to find a completely unfamiliar kitchen before them. None of the layout was correct, the fridge was on the wrong side of the room and the sink had no dishes left over in it, and the room itself seemed smaller and more confining. Or maybe that was just the concern and confusion making them feel like they were being trapped. They couldn’t be too sure. 
Hesitantly they took steps outside of the room, examining the other rooms that belonged in this apartment. It was smaller than the one they shared with Asher, one bedroom and one bathroom, but it was a lot tidier than their home. Did they accidentally break into someone else’s home? If they had then they were…an amazing lock picker because there was no one here besides them. 
Entering the living room, they noticed the only mess they had seen in the entire apartment. Books, and from the looks of it they were college textbooks. So Babe decided to continue snooping around this stranger’s home. Silently they lifted one of the heavy tomes to read the cover. 
‘Energetic: Electro - An Anthology’ 
Energetic? Like the games Asher and the Pack would be watching over soon? So…this person was an Energetic? Well that was certainly concerning, especially if they found out that Babe had been snooping around their house after breaking in and trying to cook something in their sleep. At that, Babe decided it would be best to leave and attempt to find their way home.
Quietly they paced over to the front door, fully prepared on escaping and leaving this place behind. All while hopefully not getting charged with trespassing, since most apartment buildings have cameras of some sort. Only to stop theirself in front of a stray mirror.
The face staring back at them…unfamiliar. They had never seen this person before and yet the image in the mirror moved as they did. A strange feeling sunk into their gut, a fear they hadn’t really felt since being trapped in that Elevator the first time they met Asher. Anxiety pulling at their gut like a tiger locked in a cage, waiting for them to let the panic loose. 
Then the front door opened and it felt like a thread snapped inside of them, followed by the sound of electricity and shattering glass. In surprise they let out a scream.
“Lovely? Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay.” The voice of a stranger filtered into their ears, as the sound of footsteps brought him closer to them. They didn’t fight back when this man’s hand gripped their shoulder, gently turning them to face him as he muttered soft words of comfort at them. His hand a gentle caress on their cheek, his lips pressing a soft kiss to their forehead. His comfort brought them back to a relative state of calm, though how calm they could be with so many unknown variables wasn’t all that good. 
“So, Little One, did something happen? Did you want to talk about it?” The man said, a soft smile still on his face as he watched them. Babe couldn’t stop the confused look that plastered itself onto their face as they looked at this man. He was so comforting, and he obviously knew them…or well, whoever they were at the moment. It made them question everything.
Was this some sort of magic thing that they just didn’t understand? Did they have amnesia of some sort and just…forgot this man despite obviously being with him? And if that was the case…what happened to Asher. Their heart ached at the thought of breaking up with him, the thought had never even crossed their mind. Hell, they had never told him because they thought the concept itself was silly but they thought he was their soulmate. They honestly couldn’t see a future for theirself if Asher wasn’t in it.
And if this was their future then they didn’t want it. 
“We don’t have to if you’re not up for it,” The man continued, cutting off the trail of thoughts circling inside of Babe’s mind. “We can just head to bed and cuddle until you fall asleep. If that would be easier for you, but…it has been helping when you talk about these things instead of bottling them up.” 
“I don’t know…who I am. Or…who you are.” The words slipped from their lips before they could stop them. This person, the face of a stranger that they had seen staring back at them. This wasn’t them was it? They knew what they looked like, what they sounded like and this wasn’t it. Right? 
The words seemed to spark a concern in the male before them, they could practically see the cogs of his brain turning as he processed their confession. After a moment he nodded, a solemn look on his face as he mentioned taking them to the living room to sit down so they could talk. 
Sitting on an unfamiliar sofa, they realized they didn’t like it. It wasn’t as comfortable as the one they had bought with Asher for their own living room. But maybe that was just their anxiety talking, their longing to be back with their mate.
“Okay, let’s start small. My name is Vincent. Can you tell me what you do know right now? We’ll work through this together okay? I’m not going to leave you, I promise.” Once again this man was showing them nothing but comfort and concern, almost as if he had dealt with this before…or at least a similar situation. His patience seemed to be unending.  
Babe nodded, telling him the name that they were sure was their own but the longer they stayed here the more uncertain they became. They told him about Asher, and how much they missed him and wanted to be with him right then (no offense to him). But they left out things about the magical world. They didn’t know if this man was a part of it, or if he was an informed unempowered like they were. Sure they could assume that he was at least that since the magical textbooks had just been left about on the coffee table, but they didn’t want to take any chances. Especially knowing the trouble Asher had gotten in for not going through the proper channels before telling them about the pack. 
The more they spoke, the more confusion seemed to be evident on the man’s face. The look of recognition he once had slowly slipped away until it seemed like he was staring at a complete stranger. Which wasn’t too far from the truth. A stranger wearing his lover’s skin. 
“Well…it looks like you have a pretty good grasp on who you are, but you’re definitely in the wrong place.” He muttered, keeping his hands to himself as he tried to bring back a small smile. They could see the concern still in his eyes, though they knew now that it wasn’t directed at them, “I’m not sure what could have happened, but like I said before we can figure this out together. Now, you said the last thing you remembered was falling asleep with…Asher? And then you woke up in the kitchen here?” 
Babe nodded, their leg bouncing as they tried to contain their anxiety at the whole situation. Vincent let out a sigh, his hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck as he scavenged his brain for anything that could possibly explain the situation. 
“I’m about to be breaking a lot of rules here if you’re unempowered but, I might have someone who might know something. But i’ll need you to trust me, okay? It would be easier if I took you to him and had you explain what happened, less to be lost in translation.” He began to explain, his eyes locked onto them as if searching in their own eyes for the one he wanted to speak to, “His name is William, he’s been alive for a really really long time and he might have heard of a situation like this.”
“How can I know you’re not going to lead me into someplace dangerous?” They questioned, eyes watching him as if they would be able to tell if he were lying. They didn’t want to believe he would, not with how kind he had been to them so far, but there was always the chance.
Vincent smiled, placing a hand on the top of their head and giving a small reassuring pat.
“Because you’re in my Lovely’s body, and while you seem nice, if there is any way I can get them back then I’m going to do it. Besides, I’m sure your Asher is missing you just as much as I’m missing Lovely.”
A silence fell between them, Babe knew he was right. They wanted to trust him and so they would, it was their only real option right now. They could only hope that Asher was okay.
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lovedinapastlife · 3 years
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Hey. It’s me. Sunlit Garden on AO3. If you would like to find a bughead fic, beta, be long-term groomed with positive feedback and helpfulness, then have your self-confidence chipped away, be isolated from other support systems, be negged, insulted, and emotionally harassed/toyed with to output to her idea of perfection -- or find someone who did this to others and will most likely weasel their way into doing it again -- I recommend none other than jandjsalmon, the gal who runs theblueandgoldoffice - a handy fic-finding website.
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I made a prior post about my personal experience but apparently not everyone knew it was her because I didn’t name her specifically. Hopefully, this is the last post I’ll ever make about her. A lot of wonderful people reached out with similar experiences or sympathy but I’ve also seen some continue to interact with her or rec her as someone to follow. Now, I’m putting it in the tags. Her name is out there. If I see her on rec lists, at least I know the info is out there that she abused me and others and whoever posted didn’t want to deal with having to deal with her bullshit of her harassing them or they think I’m a liar. I have nothing to lose in this fandom or to gain by outing her. I’m doing it because I don’t want her to be introduced to new waves of authors/readers/people will trust her without protecting themselves or doing something to protect others. Unfortunately, me and the victims I talked to did not feel comfortable sharing how much she hurt us with each other until she’d done a fair amount of damage, and we were all trying to make it work with her until we hit a breaking point.
As a reminder... this is just a potential scenario based on past experience.
If you do become mutuals, and she thinks you have an ounce of fandom fame or MIGHT post things she likes if she bugs you enough, she might make you aesthetics, reblog, comment, buddy up to your friends to get closer to you, find out and exploit your insecurities or mental illness, notably withdraw support to prove a point if you like something she doesn’t or even show love for another person who doesn’t love her, keep records of your convos, show them to other people, vague post about you (sometimes even going so far as to message you without you even asking to make sure you know ‘oh it wasn’t about you’ to rub salt in that wound), let her husband talk shit about and to you even when on good terms with her, and try to get involved in your personal life to be your (only) best friend and support system... only to tell you you are nothing without her, people rely on her for recs and she can turn the tides on fandom favorites, you should not write original works because original romance is “disgusting” YA is “immature” and no one likes your work and your mind is too fucked up to be productive without her. No one will love you or have time for you like her.
She will insist you include scenes even if you don’t want them there, then try to claim she helped write your fic in the comments of it when all she did was tell you to add something you already wrote and deleted back in, though she did comment on the doc and talk through your million ideas and pick her favorite OF YOUR OWN IDEAS and help with grammar. She will also tell you at least one of your fics is disgusting and berate you to the point of not wanting to post it, especially if it shows Betty even slightly interested in someone besides Jughead at some point in her life, claiming “that’s not her!” but OOC or Jughead with past/current partners is no problem... and she will be very apologetic to have to tell you and make you feel bad, but brag in DMs of her friends that she “made you change your mind” and “taught you how to think” if you eventually cave and adjust something. Conversations become drags where you agree with what she says just to avoid confrontations and meltdowns sometimes.
If you talk to her and try to rebuild your friendship or set boundaries, she will either lash out or apologize and be good for a few days until she can find a reason to turn on you again. When you distance yourself for protection or make new friends, she will harass you in DMs asking why you unfollowed (even if it’s a tumblr glitch) or followed so and so, why you did or didn’t like something, tell you how awful everyone except her is, and try to get you to talk shit about your own friends when you know she’s talking shit about you, too.
Oh and if you compliment her on something you’re considered good at that she’s insecure about (prompted or unprompted), be prepared to be called a fake liar and a judgmental bitch in general for having an opinion -- yes, even if it’s positive, so imagine how fun it was to disagree on something neither of us even made.
She is not a neutral party when it comes to abuse and harassments either. Despite being very anti-cheating, she stoutly defends the Sprouse brothers despite multiple women and outlets coming forward claiming they cheated on or abused their partners, claiming the sources are “crazy” or “jealous” or “unprofessional.” I have some pretty ironic in retrospect screenshots someone sent me of some of her rants but I won’t post them publicly here. What Jandy told me of her former victims was that they blocked her for no reason. She was nothing but supportive of them and they got too big for their britches and had other friends and abandoned her. I’m sure she says similar if not worse things about me for calling her out and cutting her off.
So yeah, it will be uncomfortable to unfollow, ghost, and/or block her. It might even be inconvenient because of the service she provides to this fandom. But please keep in mind that even the slight fear/dread of her shadow-banning or harassing you is a sign that she’s affected you, too.
If you really miss that one extra comment per chapter, hit me up. I’ve got a lot going on but I’ll make an exception for people who need that extra support as long as I can. For additional support, please see local and online organizations to talk to a professional or volunteer trained to help with emotional abuse, toxicity, depressive, or anxious thoughts like therealdepressionproject. Good luck and have a wonderful day.
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maliciouslycreative · 3 years
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How I played damage control to an anti in a small anime fandom and may have led to her ultimate downfall
I know I had a really nice write up of this at one point but oh well. I’ll spill more of the tea in this one because honestly the tea was so hot.
There are a few things that I have to give context to first. Gaia online was like THE mega forum of the 2000s, you made a little avatar and through posting and doing other activities on the forum you made money to buy clothes for your avatar. There were forums for everything but the fannish portions were really what drew in most of the people. The anime I was into was Beyblade. It was a shonen anime about fighting with tops that were possessed by the spirits of magical creatures. The story was honestly pretty average but the characters were fantastic and the fandom is to this day still one of my favourites. The series had a primarily male cast and didn’t even have a female lead until the second season. This led to the fanfic for the English fandom being about 70% canon/OC, 10 % canon m/f, and 20% slash. The most popular character in the English fandom was by far Kai Hiwatari, the loner badboy of the team.
Also before we get started I would like to add that one of my best friends was neck deep in this and the two of us were more or less fandom married. This is the same friend that I fake dated, had feelings for, and she nearly got me into kpop in 2011 so like if you haven’t read that story please read it too because it will give you a good idea of how stupid I am and how much of a fanfic I have truly lived. 
To set the stage I was 16, soon to be 17 when I joined the fandom and it was 2004. In September of that year I wrote a humour longfic that became an absolute smash hit and I found myself somehow fandom famous. It was around this time that I joined Gaia online. I made my little avatar and immediately went looking for the beyblade thread so that I could make new friends. I found the main thread, made my little introduction and at the end of it mentioned that I was a slash writer but I supported all ships. This is where I met C. She had declared herself the authority on Beyblade in these parts and I had just committed the crime of mentioning slash which was very obviously not canon and we did not discuss in this thread because we only discussed canon things. I was like well that’s a bit severe but like sure whatever I just want to hang out and have fun. 
Oh boy did I have no idea what I was in for. 
C was a year older than me and unfortunately that made her older than the majority of the fans at the time. Her favourite character was Kai, and she was not shy about talking about this fact. She stanned Kai above all other characters, and often at their expense. She was also a fanfic writer of a popular canon/OC series. Actually, she was so full of herself that she didn’t even call herself a fanfic writer, no her stories were in fact novels and were apparently very good. I never read them. But more on that later. 
Eventually the slash fans got tired of her being rude to us in the general thread so we made a Beyblade slash thread. There was a core of like 8 or so of us and we honestly had sooo much fun. When C would be too unbearable in the main thread the people from there used to come over to our thread and we’d chat with them about non slash stuff because we were honestly all multishippers and just wanted to have fun. We’d get comments like “wow, I’ve had more pleasant canon het ship discussions in the slash thread than the regular thread”. We never worried about C coming over and getting upset about comments like this because she refused to be associated with anything related with slash lmao. 
I tried my best to keep the peace between C, myself, and the rest of the fandom because ultimately I hate being in fandom drama. I just want everyone to have a good time. I’m a people pleaser. Unfortunately my newfound fame put me in the awkward position of being the most fandom popular person in our small community aside from C. Virtually every fan that read fanfics that came into our thread knew one of us or the other by reputation and C HATED this. Especially because people would come in to the thread, recognise me and go “oh my goodness I love your fanfics!” and I’d be super sweet with them and it’d lead into “I can’t believe how nice you are, I love you” which would lead to us crying at each other. This was not the kind of fan interaction that C got, no her fans were more kind that were there to praise her and worship her like a deity that had blessed them with some gift. Rarely did they tell her how kind she was. 
Back in the mid 2000s there were really commonly those commercials (usually by Christian organisations) asking people to sponsor say children in Africa or to help build schools or provide drinking water. You all probably know the ones; know the language that they used in those commercials. My fandom wife, who I suppose I shall call wifey because yes we were THAT couple back then, once said that C described her fics like those people described donating money to save the lives of Children in Africa. So we used to joke that her fics were so good they’d save lives in Africa. Looking back at it all, she almost had a very fundamentalist Christian approach to bringing people into her fanfics. She of course tried to get all the slash people into reading it. None of us read canon/oc fic mostly due to our poor treatment at the hands of their fans and creators. Getting fed up I one day told her that if she would read any one of my fanfics that I would read the entirety of her novels. Yes, I was willing to commit to read a couple 100k of canon/oc fanfic that I’d never touch normally if she would even read one of my 1k 1 shots. Heck, I had a fic even that shipped 2 minor characters so she didn’t even have to sully herself reading about one of the main characters. It was honestly a good deal in her favour. I kept this up until the day we all left the fandom. Sometimes I do wonder if her fics were even ¼ as good as she claimed, but I will never know because she refused to read my fics. 
She wasn’t all bad and a tyrant all the time. As long as people kept the conversations on track and didn’t come in to the thread saying things like “KAI IS SO HOT ND T3H BEST N I AM GUN 2 MARRY HIM” she stayed mostly civil. It was always hilarious watching InuYahsa or Naruto fans try to come in and bad mouth Beyblade because they’d unleash the dragon and C was great at chasing off undesirables in the thread. 
The real apex of goings on though on Gaia was the guild drama. So guilds were like exclusive themed mini forums within Gaia. Anyone could buy one and run it however they want, as long as it still adhered to Gaia’s ToS. C of course was the owner of the only Beyblade guild. The fandom wasn’t really big enough to support 2 guilds so we just kind of let it go. Technically she allowed people to post slash fanfics but like everything had to be explicitly tagged and there was absolutely no slash RP. Wifey and I controlled a handful of minor characters together in the forum RP and definitely used to try to push the boundaries a little bit. Some ambiguous flirting here, a stray comment there. It was such a fragile balance though because C was heavy on the ban button. The active portion of the guild was just people that were in the cult of C and worshipped her writing. 
Understandably the other slash fans and myself were getting disheartened by this. So we pooled our funds together and decided that we’d open a second guild that though it was run by slash fans we would welcome anyone into our ranks. We just wanted to have a fun place for everyone to hang out, and to hopefully run a few events out of. In hindsight, we should have seen what would happen. When we opened the guild, with me as the guild leader, it was like somebody blew up the whole dam protecting the delicate ecosystem we had cultivated. Every single person in the Gaia fandom that was not a zealous follower of C applied to be in our guild and left her guild. We of course figured that we’d attract some of the gen population but we did not expect to accidentally poach all of it. All of the moderators were getting messages from people thanking us for giving them a place where they could say whatever they wanted without fear of getting their faces ripped off or banned. 
C lost her shit. She was so mad that we went behind her back to ruin her guild. We literally had to show her posts in the very public slash thread that we had been planning this in public and that it was not to ruin her life. We just wanted a place where we could freely post slash. The two of us had some spicy comments back and forth and then she dropped an absolute bombshell on me. Since Gaia’s mail system is terrible I unfortunately no longer have exactly what she said but it was something along the lines of “Ok, you win. I’m going to close my guild.”. Us slash fans had never been doing this to win anything. We had never been competing. We just wanted a safe space to be ourselves. 
C never joined our guild. The fandom slowly faded out within the next year anyway. We weren’t getting new content so naturally people just drifted into other fandoms. C kept up with the main Beyblade thread for a lot longer than most of us but eventually that eventually faded into obscurity too. 
I learned a lot about fandom bullies from those days. But honestly the thing that stuck with me the most out of everything was that if you provide a positive safe space for people they will flock to it. It may seem like there are so many hostile people out there, but there really aren't. They're the minority but they just make sure that their voice is the loudest. The best way is to ignore them and just do your own thing. The bullies just want attention and if you don’t give it to them and prove to them that their opinion doesn’t matter to you then they’ll move in and find something else to yell at. 
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