#s2g2
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Today (March 13) is (unbelievably) the first birthday of Somewhere to Get To (the first chapter’s post-date, anyway), an anniversary about which I’m still (evidenced by sheer parentheticals-per-sentence rate) trying to decide how to talk (talking about it, by-the-by, because (earnestness…) it is pretty important to me, it turns out, still, one year on. Who could’ve guessed…?). Mostly I’m floored anybody reads the damned thing at all. Long. Absurd reading commitment. Amazing to me people have dedicated some of their time and attention to something I made — and unbelievable to hear on occasion that it’s emotionally connected to people, or impacted them in some way. Such an honor to be party to that sort of connection thru (fan)fiction. Thank you—really!! Wow!!!
And, speaking of connection (pretty personal, and decidedly earnest, musings on the fic/anniversary/my relationship to both under the cut, avoidable if you’d like, you’ve been warned) —
Been rereading some of S2G2, idly, sporadically, as I’ve been considering its first post-iversary. What’s coming to me repeatedly, as I read at a year’s distance, is a strong sense of autobiography—not in terms of event, but in tone, in concern, in most of all a very palpable sense of reckoning with the less-than-ideal that runs through the whole thing. There are some plot beats or details I’d do differently today, and I have a hard time continuing to like the things I make after they take on some distance from me, but (if I can say this about my own silly little fan fiction) I think the urgency of the thing, its emotional intensity and clear desire to try to grab hold of Something (hope? a foundation for belief in others? meaningful good?) remains affecting / effective, or does for me, despite my own work typically striking me poorly.
Long way to say that I’ve found, reading in March 2024, that the thing’s a pretty clear if entirely unintentional record of the things I was thinking about, trying to work into my worldview, trying in some cases to excise from my worldview, things I was looking for or giving in to, and so on, in the months leading up to March 2023. One of those points of concern (transparently) was the strain of loneliness, the value of connection. With a year’s perspective, it’s important to me to say how grateful I am to have found such a welcoming, lovely, friendly, supportive, all-around-brilliant community in the fandom. I owe so much to the kindness and enthusiasm of the wonderfully talented people I’ve met on here, and I can say confidently that a large part of the reason I can read the terrifically lonely thread running through S2G2 and sense a degree of emotional distance from it—still resonant, but not immediate, identically-felt—is because I have made so many friends I value here, who enrich and enliven my days so beautifully…! So thank you all!
And, relatedly: Another central concern of the fic is the difference between happiness and un-sadness, the value and place of each, struggling to help oneself face hard truths and sort of cosmically-ordained and unavoidable suckiness—the repeated stress on how “[t]here were some things a person could fix, and others one had to live with the best they could.”
Without wading into details (because who cares and also the What is unimportant) 2022 thru 2023 was the worst span of time I’ve ever experienced, what I retrospectively have been internally tagging the Lost Year(s)—have not before or since been so profoundly, uninterruptedly depressed. I wrote S2G2 in a frantic little burst from the bottom of a hole I sort of assumed at the time I would not get out of (dramatic!). And obviously the seductiveness of despair is a big focus in the course of the fic, but I’m struck on re-reading how ironclad the thing’s grip on hope (or hope in hopelessness) is—reassertion, continually, that experiences are worth having, that some things are worth sticking around for, and so on.
A year on, I’ve by no means solved the problem or perfected the art of balancing That Which Can Be Fixed against That Which Must Be Lived With, but I can say that the Living With is lately going comparatively so well most days it has not been the Central, All-Consuming Concern of Every Waking Moment—living with, tolerating, carrying, and so on—not even an hourly concern, or much of a conscious one, so much as something to check against, watch for, a diligent quiet awareness and work, when necessary, that has been (knock on wood) getting much easier with time, better life circumstances, and people to be around. Aware how significant that change is, on rereading what I was writing when that fixing-vs-living-with was so crushing it sort of tabula rasa’d my sense of self—meaning, mostly, that I’m unbelievably grateful to feel like somebody real again, and I owe that, too, in no small part to a fandom community that is on the whole so positive to be a part of—made it worth it to write, and try to put something into the world, and express passion for something I loved, and feel that passion reflected back to me when it was most needed.
And from that: just wanted to say, from my point of view a few tentative steps into what is beginning to feel like real and meaningful recovery—it gets better!! At the time of initial composition in late 2022/early 2023, I was trying hard to write hope for a few characters I adored, so I could maybe see it for myself, edgewise (truth thru fiction…?). I heard in the course of posting chapters from people who said that the fic resonated with them, that they related to or saw themselves in how I was writing Hawk or Beej, and drew some degree of comfort or catharsis in reading—wonderful, and I don’t think I could ask for more than to believe maybe some people who felt like I did at the time felt a little better because of something I wrote. and if there’s anything I hope people get out of thinking about S2G2 on this year-iversary it’s that uhh it gets better, and stubborn hope + whimsy + sense of humor + enjoyment of the absurd is ur most powerful tool as a human person probably, and also I’m stupid grateful for and very fond of fandom community, and the friends I’ve been so lucky to make thru this space (much love)!! Thank you for reading—fic, or this weird scrawl on my blog, or both—anyway, thanks! means a lot and always has! have a wednesday treat of some kind + treat urself nice ! who knows how to end these things. Alexa turn off earnestpost. Earnestposting end. Stop Post
#somewhere to get to#S2G2#on writing#sort of? this is so long. sorry. feeling earnest + retrospective#not quite sure if anybody cares about this sort of thing or angle on it but it felt important to me to express :)#and as always. thanks to all the lovely people ive met in here. u are all so good and make my days so much nicer :) thanks!!!!!
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It’s just like. The way that bj walks to Maine and knocks on Hawkeye’s door and it’s not the same because their lives have led in different directions. But they are still bound together by experience and love and so it turns out that no, it’s not the same, it’s better. Screaming crying throwing up
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Both sides now finale tmr morning. End my life
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For the fic ask game - 4 (for 'on the biology of time lords'), 37, 41, 44 :)
4. What detail in [insert fic] are you really proud of?
I think my favorite bit from OtBoTL is the way the Doctor talks about Adric in the Fifth Doctor chapter! I think I really nail Nyssa's characterization in that chapter as well, and she's one of the more difficult companions for me.
The other thing that I really enjoy in that one is pretty much everything in the Tenth Doctor chapter. The original aliens, the wordplay, and the genuine attempt to reconcile how the respiratory bypass system were all super fun to write.
37. Promote one of your own “deep cut” fics (an underrated one, or one that never got as much traction as you think it deserves!). What do you like about it?
Doctor Who only - I love Cricket Through the Ages and it never picked up much traction thanks to being a series of tiny little drabbles. It was really fun to spin scenarios and only have a little bit of room to work with them.
41. Link a fic that made you think, “Wow, I want to write like that.”
I've got two here, both MASH over Doctor Who, unfortunately, but these are both pieces that hugely influenced my writing style after I read them. Double Cranko for Beginners by KilroyBlues and Somewhere to Get To by AMRV_5! Double Cranko is a fascinating and wonderful piece of something that I would genuinely consider poetry and S2G2 is one of the finest longfics I've ever read in my life.
44. If you take/write prompts: do you prefer dialogue or scenario/narrative prompts?
I do occasionally take prompts but I've never gotten to do much with them - a few ideas I've had (and two that I'm actively working on) have come from spinning up ideas in my best friend the MASHoles discord server. We do a lot of what I'd consider an improv game in there where someone will suggest an idea and a few other people will post ideas for scenes - it leads to massive fic outlines that very rarely get written and I've recently started trying to use those outlines as prompts!
If I had to choose - scenario. I love writing dialogue and I think I'd get weirdly peeved off if I was trying to work in dialogue someone else wrote <3
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god i'm afraid to be succ spoiled (and i don't want to save it for tomorrow before work bc it's the release date for the final chapter of s2g2) but i'm also... so tired... do not think i can brain succ 2night
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The Smuggler And the Prince : Ch 1
Relationship: Kuroo/Daichi
Rating: Teen- It probably could be general but I’m planning action and probably bad language so just in case
Chapters: 1/?
Prince Sawamura Daichi stood in the open hangar doors, staring out into the pure white blizzard. It was too cold to be standing there with just his insulated vest, but he couldn’t bear to step away when beyond the wall of white was Kuroo and Bokuto as they struggled to find each other. He wanted to be out there as well, but he knew his position gave him far too much responsibility to go chasing after his friends in a lethal snowstorm.
Daichi narrowed his eyes, as if focusing harder could will his friends back faster. He vaguely heard metallic footsteps shuffling toward him, but he didn’t bother looking to know he was in for an earful.
“Your Majesty?” A-3HI asked nervously. “The temperatures are dropping rapidly, you should step further in. Aren’t you cold? I’m cold, and I’m a droid! I’m sure Kuroo and Master Bokuto will be alright, though the longer they’re out there severely decreases their chances of coming back. But they’re both quite clever, they’ll turn up soon… won’t they?”
Daichi was beginning to feel his temple throb, but a metallic clang interrupted A-3HI’s consolation, and he turned to see their other droid crash into his friend with a series of angry beeps.
“I’m not a negative droid, S2G2! I’m simply being realistic!”
“Beep beep booooeeep boop!”
“Well if you’re such a good friend, why don’t you encourage him instead?”
“No, that’s fine,” Daichi interrupted, and both droids turned toward him. “I have plenty of bruises on my legs from his encouragement. Have you found anything on your scanner, S2?”
“Boop boop boooooop.”
Daichi sighed. “Well, keep trying. I know Kuroo can find him and bring them both back.”
“Your Majesty!” A voice called out to draw his attention.
“Commander, have you heard anything?”
“No, and I’m afraid the temperatures are dropping too rapidly to keep the doors open any longer. Otherwise everything inside will freeze up.”
Daichi felt his stomach clench and glanced back out into the storm. There was no sign of life beyond the whipping flurries of snow, and with a heavy heart Daichi nodded to the commander. At once the massive doors began to slide together from the sides, darkening the hanger as they squeaked on their tracks. He glanced over to wear Kenmaaca was sitting with his back against the wall. He never seemed to be paying attention, but Daichi knew he saw more than he let on. His bright amber eyes practically glowed from between his fluffy blonde and black fur, and as the doors finally shut he released a melancholic groan. Daichi couldn’t yet understand the wookie’s native tongue, but he understood the sentiment clearly. He took a deep breath and went back to work, knowing he wouldn’t sleep a wink until his friends were found the next day.
It had been months since he had become acquainted with the two men, and with the constant fight for their lives and determination to defeat the Empire they had all grown extremely close. Bokuto had seemed like such a naive teenager when they had first met, but he took to leadership quickly and had a presence that naturally inspired his allies. Daichi had come to rely on him in many situations, and there was no one who could make him laugh like the spiky-haired Jedi.
Kuroo had rubbed him the wrong way from the start. He was a money-loving smuggler who would abandon anyone to get out of a tight spot. Even that didn’t bother Daichi as much as his sly words that could easily stir up his anger. Lately though he noticed things beginning to shift between them. Kuroo had proven himself over and over that he didn’t love only money, and that he was willing to give his own life for his friends. Hell, he was proving it that very moment by chasing Bokuto out into a blizzard on Hoth. Even his teasing had begun stirring Daichi up in ways that felt more intimate and suggestive, rather than to anger him. Unfortunately, being the leader of the rebellion required his undivided attention, and he hadn’t had the opportunity to focus on what their relationship was becoming. He couldn’t afford distractions, but for now, just those few moments Daichi prayed that the force would be with his two dearest friends and bring them home.
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Tuesday, August 22.
#that's TOMORROW#chapter 1 of a sequel to#somewhere to get to#60K 4 chapters updating every other day and twice on the weekend if all goes to plan#god. not to reveal vulnerability in the tags but this was an ordeal to write for some reason#just an absolute. Just. goddamn. anyway. I hope.... you all like it.#auughhhh. augh.#s2g2#amrv-5#my fic#christ alive.#sailed calmly on
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Somewhere to Get To
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Hawkeye turned in his arms, setting his chin on his hands, his palms flat over BJ’s sternum.
Their eyes met. BJ’s breath caught, his chest warming—God, was Hawkeye lovely. BJ told him so.
“With this nose?” Hawkeye asked, crossing his eyes.
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The war ends. Life doesn’t.
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Finished work. Post-canon, BJ/Hawkeye, slowburn. Updates MWF!
#giving her a facelift for the start of part 2!#mash#mash fic#beejhawk#bj/hawkeye#S2G2#somewhere to get to
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s2g2 gang we are so close to the fun stuff. the boys are back in town…….
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Hiiii Parker, for the writing meme, from S2G2 chapter 19, because I absolutely love Hawkeye’s inner monologue in this section:
He wondered what things were like over in the USSR. What they had thought of the war, during. Had it been just as roundly ignored except for, he figured, a few nervous mothers? Angry fathers? Heartbroken widows? Was there, even now, some Soviet doctor sprawled across his lover’s lap, sinking into despair, disgusted by the actions of his nation’s military, of every military, distrustful of its government, losing hope in humanity, pulling now only for the person-to-person good that could be accomplished outside of any sort of grander organization—was its citizenry as largely ambivalent to the war as the United States’ had been? Did that, too, upset him, this imaginary healer?
So much loss and destruction, and all for a piece of land approximately the size of Nebraska.
A childish thought: why couldn’t everybody just get along, and be nice? Damn the geopolitical complexities, the social nuances, the ideological impasses. Couldn’t everybody just sit the hell down and shut up and break bread? Would it be so terribly hard to just let everybody alone—except when they needed help?
BJ shifted his weight, his hand still moving in gentle circles over Hawkeye’s torso.
Hawkeye prepared to be pushed away, sinking into mild despondency.
Something grazed his lips, and he opened his eyes.
BJ was holding a strawberry to his mouth, expression soft.
Hawkeye closed his eyes, chest aching. Who was he kidding—the bad was so unbearable precisely because there was good in the world, and beauty, and light. Because people could be very, very kind, because, at the best of times, and even, dare he believe it, most times, everybody in the world was constantly engaged in minute acts of caretaking.
He opened his mouth. The strawberry was good. Sweet, ripe, tasting of summer.
BJ’s thumb brushed the curve of his lower lip before his hand withdrew.
And before he could spend too long focusing on the mechanics by which somebody obtained fresh strawberries in February, what massive logistics were involved, the ridiculous and shameful decadence of having ripe fruit available every day of the year while people elsewhere starved, there was another strawberry at his mouth.
Aghhhhhhh LISA HELLO!!!!!!! This is one of my favorite sections of the whole damned piece I’m so thrilled you picked it out:
OKAY AHHHHH I’m still. AHHHHHH about this being picked omg. Okay this is going to get so long I’m so sorry.
Okay, so, blow-by-blow, right off the bat we’ve got an invocation of the USSR and the shadow of nuclear proliferation, the anxiety of which (not sure if this is obvious? It might be so buried in implication it’s only clear after I say it outright) creeps throughout the background of S2G2. But I also tried to flip that and here have Hawkeye framing the war as a crime of government, and law-of-large-numbers himself into empathizing with a potential doctor from the “other” side who, after all, he has far more in common with than an American general.
But the ‘crime of government’ framing turns out to be too simplistic, actually, because Hawkeye half-indicts the citizenry of each country for their perceived apathy. It’s hard to see significant suffering and realize that your society has not just ignored it but in many ways actually profited from it, and appears entirely unwilling to do anything to prevent similar future tragedies. That’s insane-making, and another recurrent S2G2 Hawk-thought—is it really insane to be devastated by devastating realities?
And from there we hit maybe my most controversial Hawkeye characterization, which is that I agree with Alan Alda when he said Hawkeye isn’t actually an extremely politically (American) liberal character. By that I mean that I primarily see Hawkeye as a proponent of autonomy, and concerned with government overreach (he was drafted, after all), rather than a capital-D Democrat. He avoids the libertarian label, though, by being pretty clearly anti-capitalist, pro-education, and also by advocating for helping others in need while disavowing his government. Does this make him, like, an anarchist? I don’t really know, I’m not a poli-sci guy. He just thinks that people should be allowed to read or watch or wear or do with their own bodies whatever they want, so long as it isn’t hurting anybody.
Anyway, as readers know he’s been on a long, complex, and largely silent spiral this chapter. It’s a lot of heady stuff, reflecting on reflections of his despair, very internal work, and this is the final car of an exhausting freight train of thought.
Which is why we’ve got BJ to draw Hawkeye out of his head and back to the physical. He’s a grounding presence here, holding Hawkeye in his lap, touching him gently, literally feeding him.
At which point Hawkeye gets a reflection on the central catch of his despair, and why he can’t make himself entirely give up on humanity, even when it would be easier to do so: People can be so good.
The phrasing of his realization, by the way, is a big-time homage to the Ross Gay essayette “The sanctity of trains” from The Book of Delights, which basically changed my life via radio (I might write about this someday, or not, it’s not very interesting) and which anyway everybody should go read instantly:
“...I suppose I could spend time theorizing how it is that people are not bad to each other, but that's really not the point. The point is that in almost every instance of our lives — our social lives — we are, if we pay attention, in the midst of an almost constant, if subtle, caretaking. Holding doors open, offering elbows at crosswalks, letting someone else go first, helping with the heavy bags, reaching what's too high or what's been dropped, pulling someone back to their feet, stopping at the car wreck, at the struck dog, the alternating merge, also known as the zipper — this caretaking is our default mode, and it's always a lie that convinces us to act or believe otherwise — always.”
The rest of this is Hawkeye noticing the caretaking, letting himself accept it, allowing himself to just focus on feeling physically okay, the pleasure of being held and having something nice to eat. These are pretty obviously central themes in a lot of my work—the continuing unsolvedness of the big questions, the lingering suspicion of the validity of despair, and then tentatively finding contentment in just being an embodied animal. Not apathy, not naivety, but intentionally allowing oneself to find moments of peace because it is necessary for survival.
+Bonus my clear affection for food/feeding as love, because I’m incapable of keeping that from infiltrating everything I write yaaay. It's just so shatteringly romantic to me. Ugh. Anyway. THANK YOU SORRY THIS IS SO LONG
#SORRY THIS IS SO LONG#I GOT REALLY EXCITED#My S2G2 thoughts are way more insane than for any of my other fics I’m sorry
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5, 12, 14 for ask post :))))
HELLO LIVV!!! I’m DONE WITH WORK sorry for the late answer!!! These were fun!!!! And also. my god retrospective apology for the length of this I got really excited about my Symbolic Worldview Statement About Windchimes In Somewhere to Get To / Sailed Calmly On for a . lot of paragraphs.
5. What do you wish someone would ask you about [insert fic]? Answer it now!
AH well!!!!! Exciting. I’m about to sound so insane for paragraphs and paragraphs. I’ve got metaphors and symbolic imagery operating in very silly places. Here goes:
What’s up with Daniel’s windchimes in Somewhere to Get To and Sailed Calmly On?
And the answer: As with so much in this little fic verse, it comes back indirectly to [loud buzzer noise indicating incoming Parker Being Annoying About A Poem He Loves content] dear old Auden’s “Musée des Beaux Arts.” Sorry to anybody who has heard me be soooo annoying about this poem in relation to these fics in the past. At least it’s a new angle on it (after a restatement of the Poem’s Relation To Blah Blah Etc. So Sorry Hurrying Through It Now).
Anyway, the poem focuses partially on Breughel’s painting “Landscape with the Fall of Icarus” (see it, and the poem, reproduced at the prior link). As per its title, the painting represents the fall of Icarus, but embedded in a landscape. Icarus is a minute little ocean-splash in the lower right corner of the canvas, a pale pair of legs about to be dragged under the water. Looking at the canvas from a distance, it’s hard to notice him at all. The focus is more on the foreground, where ploughmen go about their work, and on the lovely ship moving through the water. Like us on first viewing, none of the figures in the painting notice, or at least care to act, on the fact Icarus is drowning. This enormous, mythic moment is reduced to a petty background splash—lasting an instant, and then fading away, nobody paying it much mind.
That’s the topic of Auden’s poem (swear to God we’re getting to the windchimes), which (in excerpt) notes:
About suffering they were never wrong,
The old Masters: how well they understood
Its human position: how it takes place
While someone else is eating or opening a window or just walking dully along;
(…)
In Breughel's Icarus, for instance: how everything turns away
Quite leisurely from the disaster; the ploughman may
Have heard the splash, the forsaken cry,
But for him it was not an important failure; the sun shone
As it had to on the white legs disappearing into the green
Water, and the expensive delicate ship that must have seen
Something amazing, a boy falling out of the sky,
Had somewhere to get to and sailed calmly on.
So that’s the painting, and the poem, which both deal with the sort of tragicomic mundanity of suffering. Somewhere to Get To and Sailed Calmly On are clearly ripped, title-wise, from the last line of the Auden, and that’s because it was a theme I was playing with very consciously through each—there are a lot of characters drowning, in their own ways, and the world spins on.
OKAY sorry for restating all of that if it’s been read or said before.
In re: the wind chimes: to me, they’re meant to stand—I don’t want to say in opposition to, because both images stem from the same sort of philosophy—but as a partial response to the Icarus-Drowns-Unnoticed theme at play in the fics. Windchimes force a person to acknowledge the existence of the unseen. To me they’re like… symbolic of being a sentinel of joy or care. Happiness (your own) or suffering (of others) is very easy to let slip by unnoticed or at least not consciously registered or responded to (gentle breeze one does not make intentional note of). Treating happiness / joy as a practice instead of a transient, at-random feeling, and being intentional in wanting to perceive others/the world as it stands, helps (I think) Icarus (us, in despair) swim a little stronger, and helps (us, preoccupied) notice drowning strangers when they need it. All of this, translated to fic-verse and imagery, is the ridiculous number of windchimes around the Pierce household, tracking every unseen, unfelt shift of air in a way that is impossible to ignore. They’re doctors, and they’re also, as we learn (to my characterization) people who work actively against an innate despair with the conscious, repeated choice to care, and care widely, and actively look for joy.
And, then, why Hawkeye finds himself so devastated after the war, and so doubly hurt by his inability to get help: all of that attentiveness to the world, other’s pain, active search for joy against an interior tendency towards the water, has been burnt through by witnessing mass-scale violence he was largely powerless to stop. He’s distressed because he’s put so much of himself into the world, at an unsustainable pace, and nearly none of it comes back to him. Or at least not right away. He brushes a windchime when he comes home, listens to it sound, and then does the same with the same windchime in reverse as he leaves the house and flees to the city. And then, by the end of S2G2, a neighbor’s windchime sounds as BJ brings him a clementine and enjoys a warm day, and as Hawk wakes up to look out into the morning fog. Healing, hope, joy and rejection of despair, caring for one another with intentionality, etc. Sorry if this is sooooo silly but I love the windchimes and I'm so glad I got to talk about them LMAO <3
12. Are there any tropes you used to dislike but have grown on you?
Ouuughhhhh. Hmm. Barring a few specific exceptions, I’m usually down to read just about anything trope-wise; usually it’s more a question of Author Trust or Is It Well-Written In My Opinion, etc. I’d say, though, there are certain Tropes / Themes / Fic Concepts that are hard Nopes for me in most contexts but are for Hawkeye totally fine because, well, he’s a bit of a special bird.
14. Are there any tropes you would only read if written by a trusted friend or writer?
Major character death. ESPECIALLY in MASH, if we’re not talking a character who’s already… etc. I can think of 2-4 authors who I would MAYBE. MAYBE read a major character death from. Breaks my heart tooooooo much <3
THANK YOU FOR THE QUESTIONS and I’m sorry about the. length. LMAO got excited about my windchimes
#my fucking god#so sorry livv again the. length of this but THANK YOU i had so much fun#anyway#meta#I guess?#deep read of the. s2g2 windchimes. for anyone interested in my marginal symbolic insanity#ask game
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tomorrow!!!!!! tomorrow!!!!!
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FOLLOW UP QUESTIONS:
1) do you have headcanons for when Hawkeye and BJ’s birthdays are
2) what about their anniversary in S2G2 universe
auuuughghghhhhhhhh beautiful question that is menlting my brain I love it I love it uh huh. yeah. uh huh. okay. below cut for s2g2 spoilers in case anybody wants to dodge that LOL
I HC BJ as having a February birthday, and Hawk in either July or November. this is entirely based on vibes and absolutely nothing else becaue I know nothing at all about horoscopes etc. This is tricky because it does mean I missed BJ's birthday in-fic (I agonized over this behind the scenes because I wanted to write a birthday so bad but it didn't feel like it fit given February was still very much a Recovery Month for Hawk). Hawk strikes me as July because I like the American Independence Day connection and November because he also strikes me as a bit of a melancholy autumn baby (also sad because it means he ran away and spent his . But he's as always a little tricky to pin down.
2. Okay alsooooo so tricky. I think that they end up picking their first kiss (late february), while acknowledging that it's sort of an arbitrary date, because, like, they were basically kind of always together and loved each other, and taking that first romantic step didn't necessarily change the depth or meaning of their bond because they literally loved each other so much and so deeply already. Of course BJ gets ridiculously sappy about commemorating all their milestones anyway <3
#lisaaaaaaa#I CARE THEM#s2g2.... i neeeeeed to finish the sequel i need to#THANK YOU FOR THE ASKKKKKKKK
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20 Questions for Fic Authors
HELLO DELLA @fieryphrazes and thank you for the tag, this was fun!!!
1. How many works do you have on AO3?
30! quite a number of anonymous 🤨
2. What is your AO3 wordcount?
689,182.
3. What fandoms do you write for?
MASH! experiencing a beejhawk lockdown. for life
4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?
If I am being fully honest?
- A Be More Chill fic I wrote at age 16 and don’t want to link (<3)
- Somewhere to Get To
- Anonymous Fic
- Anonymous Fic
- Aspirin or Sorrow. But for fics in my fandom with my name on ‘em:
- Somewhere to Get To
- Aspirin or Sorrow
- Crosswalks, Crossroads
- Nothing is Real
- Moved on Memory
5. Do you respond to comments?
I try to!! I was better about it prior to getting back into classes—not had a lot of time to respond thoughtfully lately but know that I DO see comments and love and appreciate everyone who took the time to read a fic of mine!!
6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?
Probably Aspirin or Sorrow, depending on your definition of angst. I think that one’s a happy ending, kind of, but I can also see how it’s not.
7. What is the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?
Sailed Calmly On, I think. It’s more explicitly bright than Somewhere to Get To’s end, and (I hope) sort of affirming.
8. Do you get hate on fics?
A few vagueposts. Only maybe twice to my (digital) face! People are usually on the whole pretty nice :)
9. Do you write smut? If so, which kind?
Which kind… not quite sure how to Categorize Them? Anyway the answer is: Yes, absolutely! I guess I’d say the throughline of “kind” is a focus on mutuality, decadence of experience (indulging in a fantasy, in sensation, warmth / luxury / soft treatment), and togetherness heightening relaxation and comfort. Or maybe I have a brand of smut I’m not aware of. I’ll take genre feedback, pls chime in.
10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest crossover you’ve ever written?
Nope!
11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?
Also no.
12. Have you ever had a fic translated?
No.
13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?
Before? No. But…👀 watch this space 🤨
14. What’s your all-time favorite ship?
Newt/Hermann pacific rim close to my heart but I think BeejHawk is my forever ship now.
15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?
Golden age of radio beejhawk AU…
16. What are your writing strengths?
Maybe drawing out thematic or symbolic resonances? Otherwise I’d say I’m pretty comfortable with thoughts/internal narration (navel gazing?).
17. What are your writing weaknesses?
Concision.
18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?
Not good enough yet at another language to feel confident in it myself unless a character’s quoting a text or a few simple phrases I know well, but think it’s great when others do!
19. First fandom you wrote for?
RWBY kind of. Middle school friends would trade notebooks in the lunchroom and write fic of each other’s show OCs.
20. Favorite fic you’ve written?
Hard to pick. The S2G2 ‘verse is very special to me, and seems the obvious choice, but for one-and-done fav fic? I might go with End of All Octobers, which I’m still pretty happy with over five months later, and find occasionally comforting.
I’m tagging @machihunnicutt @catgrub @catgirladjacent @persianflaw @draftdodgerag @kejfeblintz (if you want!! no pressure :) ) and anybody who sees this and wants to!!!
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if I podded a fic over break what would people be most interested in hearing attempted
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